trusted to him to explain matters to Maudina and her dad. We knew that
explaining was Peter's main holt.

The poet was pretty chipper for a spell. He set on the thwart and
bragged about what he'd do when he got back to "Petey" again. He said we
couldn't git rid of him so easy. Then he spun yarns about what him and
Brown did when they was out West together. They was interesting yarns,
but we could see why Peter wa'n't anxious to introduce Cousin Henry to
Belle. Then the Patience M. got out where 'twas pretty rugged, and she
rolled consider'ble and after that we didn't hear much more from friend
Booth--he was too busy to talk.

That night me and Jonadab took watch and watch. In the morning it
thickened up and looked squally. I got kind of worried. By nine o'clock
there was every sign of a no'theaster, and we see we'd have to put in
somewheres and ride it out. So we headed for a place we'll call Baytown,
though that wa'n't the name of it. It's a queer, old-fashioned town, and
it's on an island; maybe you can guess it from that.

Well, we run into the harbor and let go anchor. Jonadab crawled into
the cabin to get some terbacker, and I was for'ard coiling the throat
halyard. All at once I heard oars rattling, and I turned my head; what I
see made me let out a yell like a siren whistle.

There was that everlasting poet in the skiff--you remember we'd
been towing it astern--and he was jest cutting the painter with his
jackknife. Next minute he'd picked up the oars and was heading for the
wharf, doubling up and stretching out like a frog swimming, and with his
curls streaming in the wind like a rooster's tail in a hurricane. He
had a long start 'fore Jonadab and me woke up enough to think of chasing