"I'm looking for a boat," I said, trying again to snatch away my
hand.

"A boat?" he queried, in mild surprise, "and what is your name,--
my little man?"

I started to tell him, and then it struck me, that we had given
our real names to the constable at Bailey's Harbor, and that I
might get into trouble if I told mine again, here. I tried to
think of another name to give, but as I hadn't made up one in
advance, it seemed to stick. Of course, I had often read of
various kinds of criminals and desperadoes who went under false
names, and also of people who were no more criminals than we, who
had to give names other than their own. There were spies in war-
time, for instance. These people in books all seemed to do it
easily enough, and so I could have done, if I had had one ready.
As it was I stammered over it.

"Sam-er-er-Jim-er-James B-B-Brown," I said at last.

"Sam Jim James Brown!" he said, in his buttery tones, "well, Sam
Jim James Brown, what is it you want here?"

I told him again about the boat, and how they told us at Lanesport
that Captain Bannister was coming to Rogers's Island to look for
her.

"What kind of a boat is it?" said the other man. I had succeeded
at last in getting the tall man to let go of my hand, and I backed
a little away from him. I described the "Hoppergrass" as well as I