"He's constable. He caught the burglars, y'know, right in the face
'n eyes of two policemen from Lanesport. An' when they got away,
Eb pretty near bust his biler. He got his possy together again,
an' he says he'll have 'em back if it takes a leg, an' when he
gets 'em he'll set over 'em night an' day, with a shot-gun. Gee!"

He hit the horse another slap with the reins, and then turned to
grin at me through a gap where four front teeth were missing. He
was a jolly looking boy, with a round, red face like the rising
moon.

"I wouldn't like to be them burglars, when Eb ketches hold of 'em
again," he continued. "No, sir. Why, Eb arrested two fellers last
summer for haulin' Levi Sanborn's lobster-pots,--he took an' tied
'em back to back an' carried 'em over to Lanesport in his boat,
an' turned 'em over to the police. One feller got six months in
the House of C'rrection. Gee! You're goin' to Bailey's, aint yer?"

"No, I'm going to Rogers's Island."

"You be? Why, the excursion aint till tomorrow!"

I said "What excursion?" before I thought.

"Why, the Comp'ny. Aint you heard 'bout the Comp'ny? Gran'father's
goin'. Everbody's goin'. Don't you live in Lanesport?"

"No, I don't know anything about it. What is it,--a picnic? How
many people live there,--on Rogers's Island?"