| “Storm along, John; | John, storm along; | Ain't I glad my day's work's done!” Also, he glanced at his watch every few minutes and then went to consult the chronometer to make sure of the time. Captain Jerry went up to the schoolhouse and gave its vacant rooms a thorough sweeping for no particular reason except to be doing something. His appetite was poor, and he actually forgot to feed Lorenzo, a hitherto unheard-of slight, and one that brought down upon him a long lecture from Captain Eri, who vowed that loss of memory was a sure sign of lovesickness. They started for the railway station immediately after supper. As they passed John Baxter's house they noticed a light in an upper chamber, and wondered if the old man was ill. Captain Eri would have stopped to find out, but Captain Perez insisted that it could be done just as well when they came back, and expressed a fear that they might miss the train. Captain Jerry hadn't spoken since they left home, and walked gloomily ahead with his hands in his pockets. Mr. “Web” Saunders, fat and in his pink-striped shirtsleeves, sat upon the steps of his saloon as they went by. He wished them an unctuous good-evening. The oily smoothness of Mr. Saunders' voice cannot be described with plain pen and ink; it gurgled with sweetness, like molasses poured from a jug. This was not a special tone put on for the occasion; no one except his wife ever heard him speak otherwise. The response from the three captains was not enthusiastic, but Mr. Saunders continued to talk of the weather, the fishing, and the cranberry crop until a customer came and gave them a chance to get away. “Slick! slick! slick!” commented Captain Eri, as they hurried along. “Blessed if he don't pretty nigh purr. I like a cat fust-rate, but I'm always suspicious of a cat-man. You know he's got claws, but you can't tell where he's goin' to use 'em. When a feller like that comes slidin' around and rubbin' his head against my shin, I always feel like keepin' t'other foot ready for a kick. You're pretty sartin to need it one time or another.” The train was nearly an hour late this evening, owing to a hot box, and the “ex-seafaring man” and his two friends peered anxiously out at it from around the corner of the station. The one coach stopped directly under the lights, and they could see the passengers as they came down the steps. Two or three got out, but these were men. Then came an apparition that caused Captain Jerry to gasp and clutch at Perez for support. Down the steps of the car came a tall, coal-black negress, and in her hand was a canvas extension case, on the side of which was blazoned in two-inch letters the fateful name, “M. B. Snow, Nantucket.” Captain Eri gazed at this astounding spectacle for a full thirty seconds. Then he woke up. “Godfrey domino!” he ejaculated. “BLACK! BLACK! Run! Run for your lives, 'fore she sees us!”