"Blind's a bat! Poor little critter!" he would murmur. "All the sunshine does is to warm him; he can't see it no more. Out-o'-doors ain't nothin' to him now." Nor would he allow anybody but himself to attend to the needs of poor little Jerry. He had promised Abe, he said. He kept that promise faithfully. Diddimus, the cat, was entirely another problem. At first, whenever he saw Cap'n Amazon approach, he howled and fled. Then, gradually, an unholy curiosity seemed to enthrall the big tortoise-shell. He would peer around corners at Cap'n Amazon, stare at him with wide yellow eyes through open doorways, leap upon the window sill and glower at the substitute storekeeper--in every way showing his overweening interest in the man. But he absolutely would not go within arm's reach of him. "I always did say a cat's a plumb fool," declared Cap'n Amazon. "They'll desert ship as soon as wink. Treacherous critters, the hull tribe. Why, when I was up country in Cuba once, I stopped at a man's hacienda and he had a tame wildcat--had had it from a kitten. Brought it up on a bottle himself. "He thought a heap of that critter, and when he laid in his hammock under the trees--an' that was most of the time, for them Caribs are as lazy as the feller under the tree that wished for the cherries to fall in his mouth!--Yes, sir! when he laid in his hammock that yaller-eyed demon would lay in it, too, and purr like an ordinary cat. "But a day come when the man fell asleep and had a nightmare or something, and kicked out, cracking that cat on the snout with his heel. Next breath the cat had a chunk out o' his calf and if I hadn't been there with a gun he'd pretty near have eat the feller!" The personal touch always entered into Cap'n Amazon's stories. He had always been on me spot when the thing in point happened--and usually he was the heroic and central figure. No foolish modesty stayed his tongue when it came to recounting adventures. He had all his wits, as well as all his wit, about him, had Cap'n Amazon. This was shown by an occurrence that very Saturday afternoon. Milt Baker, like the other neighbors, was becoming familiar, if not friendly, with the substitute storekeeper and, leaning on the showcase. Milt said: "Leave me have a piece of Brown Mule, Cap'n Am'zon. I'm all out o' chewin'. Put it on the book and Mandy'll pay for it." "Avast there!" Cap'n Amazon returned. "Seems to me I got something in the bill o' ladin' 'bout that," and he drew forth the long memorandum Cap'n Abe had made to guide his substitute's treatment of certain customers. "No," the substitute storekeeper said, shaking his head negatively. "Can't do it." "Why not, I want to know?" blustered Milt. "I guess my credit's good." He already had the Brown Mule in his hand.