The first week slipped along, and everything was serene. Bulletins from
Ebenezer more encouraging every day, and no squalls in sight. But 'twas
almost too slick. I was afraid the calm was a weather breeder, and sure
enough, the hurricane struck us the day after that fishing trip.

Peter had gone driving with Maudina and her dad, and me and Cap'n
Jonadab was smoking on the front piazza. I was pulling at a pipe, but
the cap'n had the home end of one of Stumpton's cigars harpooned on the
little blade of his jackknife, and was busy pumping the last drop of
comfort out of it. I never see a man who wanted to get his money's wuth
more'n Jonadab, I give you my word, I expected to see him swaller that
cigar remnant every minute.

And all to once he gives a gurgle in his throat.

"Take a drink of water," says I, scared like.

"Well, by time!" says he, pointing.

A feller had just turned the corner of the house and was heading up in
our direction. He was a thin, lengthy craft, with more'n the average
amount of wrists sticking out of his sleeves, and with long black hair
trimmed aft behind his ears and curling on the back of his neck. He
had high cheek bones and kind of sunk-in black eyes, and altogether he
looked like "Dr. Macgoozleum, the Celebrated Blackfoot Medicine Man."
If he'd hollered: "Sagwa Bitters, only one dollar a bottle!" I wouldn't
have been surprised.

But his clothes--don't say a word! His coat was long and buttoned up
tight, so's you couldn't tell whether he had a vest on or not--though