“Launch that rodney,”[1] Wull directed, “an’ put me on shore. An’ lively, man,” he complained. “I’ll be cotchin’ cold out here.” With the help of Timothy Yule, who chanced to be gossiping in the kitchen, Jehoshaphat Rudd got the rodney in the open water by the stage-head. What with paddling and much hearty hauling and pushing, they had the little craft across the barrier of ice in the narrows before the wind had blown old John Wull a generous rod out to sea. “Timothy, lad,” Jehoshaphat whispered, “I ’low you better stay here.” Timothy kept to the ice. “You been wonderful slow,” growled Wull. “Come ’round t’ the lee side, you dunderhead! Think I wants t’ get my feet wet?” “No, sir,” Jehoshaphat protested. “Oh no; I wouldn’t have you do that an I could _help_ it.” The harbor folk were congregating on Haul-Away Head and Daddy Tool’s Point. ’Twas an agreeable excitement to see John Wull in a mess—in a ludicrous predicament, which made him helpless before their eyes. They whispered, they smiled behind their hands, they chuckled inwardly. Jehoshaphat pulled to the lee side of the pan. “Come ’longside,” said Wull. Jehoshaphat dawdled. “Come ’longside, you fool!” Wull roared. “Think I can leap three fathom?” “No, sir; oh no; no, indeed.” “Then come ’longside.” Jehoshaphat sighed. “Come in here, you crazy pauper!” Wull screamed, stamping his rage. “Come in here an’ put me ashore!” “Mister Wull!” Wull eyed the man in amazement. “Labor,” said Jehoshaphat, gently, “is gone up.” Timothy Yule laughed, but on Haul-Away Head and Daddy Tool’s Point the folk kept silent; nor did old John Wull, on the departing pan, utter a sound. “Sky high,” Jehoshaphat concluded. The sun was broadly, warmly shining, the sky was blue; but the wind was rising smartly, and far off over the hills of Satan’s Trap, beyond the wilderness that was known, it was turning gray and tumultuous. Old John Wull scowled, wheeled, and looked away to sea; he did not see the ominous color and writhing in the west. “We don’t want no law, Mister Wull,” Jehoshaphat continued, “at Satan’s Trap.” Wull would not attend. “Not law,” Jehoshaphat repeated; “for we knows well enough at Satan’s Trap,” said he, “what’s fair as atween men. You jus’ leave the law stay t’ St. John’s, sir, where he’s t’ home. He isn’t fair, by no means; an’ we don’t want un here t’ make trouble.” The trader’s back was still turned.