She did not see Captain Littlefield; but from the front porch Carolyn heard the _step, clump! step, clump!_ of a man with a wooden leg. She thought it must be her friend walking up and down the "for'ard deck" in the morning sunshine. Prince evidently thought it was the friendly captain, too. He dashed around the corner of the house, and the next moment there was a vocal explosion that might have shocked more sophisticated ears than those of Carolyn May. "What the Dancin' Doolittles is this here?" bawled a shrill and unmelodious voice. "Get out, you brute! Scat, I say!" Carolyn hastened to the rescue. She knew it could never be Captain Littlefield. And she was right. Her friend was not in sight. Instead, gyrating about in a clumsy circle on the front porch was a tall man with a very red face, a great white moustache, and a topknot of white hair that made him look like an angry cockatoo. This old man, whose fiery eyes and great beak added to his birdlike appearance, was dancing about on one slippered foot, while his other leg, finished with a wooden limb much like that of Captain Littlefield's, was thrust out in a mad attempt to keep Prince at a distance. "Get out, you brute!" he bawled, almost overturning himself in another attempt to kick the dog. His white linen suit flapped about his lean body like dishcloths hangin' on a pole in a strong breeze. Prince, much excited and enraged by the attack made upon him by the old man, dashed in just as Carolyn appeared and fastened his teeth upon the part of the "peg-leg" that would have been the ankle had the limb been of actual flesh and bone. "Whoo! Scat!" shouted the red-faced man, continuing to hop about on his sound foot. "Prince!" shrieked Carolyn May. But Prince hung right on to the wooden leg, and as the old fellow swung around he fairly lifted the dog from the porch and swung him in a circle, too. The hullabaloo aroused everybody on the lower floor of the hotel, and maids, waiters, and kitchen help, as well as the early risen guests, came running to the front porch. Lastly appeared Captain Ozias Littlefield, who had been shaving and had one side of his face masked with lather, while he flourished his razor in his hand. "Belay all!" cried he, clumping forward. "What's afoul the ship hawse now?" "Take this dog off'n me, Ozy Littlefield!" shouted the red-faced man. "Gimme that razor and I'll near 'bout chop his head off!" At that terrible threat Carolyn shrieked again. Prince held his firm grip on the leg, and the red-faced man kicked out more strenuously than before. He actually kicked himself over backward and landed with a crash on the porch floor. The straps holding the wooden leg to the stump of his real leg broke, and the dog flew off at a tangent, still gripping the timber in his jaws. "What th' Dancing Doolittles!" yelled the old fellow, lying there on his back. "Now see what that dog's done."