“Well, now, they wasn’t no prayer-meetin’ held t’ keep Archibald Shott t’ Jump Harbor. The lads o’ the place an’ the crew o’ the _Give an’ Take_ turned to an’ jerked that house across the bay t’ Deep Cove like a gale o’ wind. They wasn’t nothin’ left o’ Archibald Shott at Jump Harbor but the bare spot on the rocks where the house used t’ be. When ’twas all over with, Arch come back t’ say good-bye; an’ he took Slow Jim Tool t’ the hills, an’, ‘Jim,’ says he, ‘you knows where my house used t’ be? Hist!’ says he, ‘I wants t’ tell you: is you able t’ hold a secret? Well,’ says he, ‘I wouldn’t go pokin’ ’round in the dirt there. You leave that place be. They isn’t nothin’ there that you’d like t’ have. Understand? _Don’t go pokin’ ’round in the dirt where my ol’ house was._ But if you does,’ says he, ‘an’ if you finds anything you wants, why, you can keep it, and not be obliged t’ me.’ So Jim begun pokin’ ’round; being human, he jus’ couldn’t help it. He poked an’ poked, till they wasn’t no sense in pokin’ no more; an’ then he ’lowed he’d give ’Lizabeth a wonderful s’prise in the spring, no matter what it cost. ‘Archibald Shott,’ says he, ‘is a kind man. You jus’ wait, ’Lizabeth, an’ _see_.’ And in the spring, sure enough, off he sot for Chain Tickle, where ol’ Jonas Williams have a shop an’ a store, t’ fetch ’Lizabeth a pink ostrich feather she’d seed in Jonas’s trader two year afore. She ’lowed that ’twas a wonderful sight o’ money t’ lay out on a feather, when he got back; but he says: ‘Oh no, ’Lizabeth; the money wasn’t no trouble t’ get.’ “‘No trouble?’ says she. “‘Why, no,’ says he; ‘no trouble t’ speak of. I jus’ sort o’ poked around an’ picked it up.’ “About a week after ’Lizabeth All had first wore that pink feather t’ meetin’ a constable come ashore from the mail-boat an’ tapped Slow Jim Tool on the shoulder. “‘What you do that for?’ says Jim. “‘In the Queen’s name!’ says the constable. “‘My God!’ says Jim. ‘What is I been doin’?’ “‘Counterfeitin’,’ says the constable. “‘Counter-fittin’!’ says Jim. ‘What’s that?’ “They says,” Tumm sighed, “that poor Jim Tool was wonderful s’prised t’ be give two year in chokee t’ St. John’s for passin’ lead shillin’s; for look you! Jim didn’t _know_ they was lead.” “And Elizabeth?” I ventured. “Up an’ died,” he drawled.... * * * * *