floatin' up over the randt, an' I keep the moss there wet when I have to go without water to drink in the drought. You ain't laughing?" "No, Abe, no. One of these wretched flies has got into my eye." "I made a boat for the little chap, 'gainst he came again, and a fishin' line, and a reed pipe. We could 'a played many games together, him and me, but he only came onct." Abe turned his face to the sea and stared wistfully. He was not yarning now, and I wondered at him. "Yes," he said; "I could a showed him many a bird's nest if he'd a come, but maybe the white woman has kep' him away. She's bin here off an' on for maybe six years. She came outer the sea, too, footin' her way through the air--comin' like a cloud or one o' these big sea-birds that sails on the wind without a flap of his long, narrer wings. White, my sonny!--I never seed anythin' so white, not even the sails o' a ship with the sun on, or the inside o' one o' them shells folk use for tooth powder. She comes on me all o' a sudden, and all I see is the gleam o' her eyes--then she's gone, leavin' me here with my heart beatin'. Maybe she looks after the little ones, for when she comes there's a queer noise in the waves over yonder 's if a heap o' girls were at play. Oh, yes; many things come outer the sea besides fish an' otter an' sich like--many things, sonny; an' when I'm buildin' this yer shed I stop workin' to look for their comin'. Of late I bin expectin' somethin' mor'n ord'nary, but it ain't come. Yes, I bin waitin' for that little chap to take me by the hand. Got any tabak?" I handed over the pouch, and saw that Abe had come out of the spell that had been on him. "That water bar'l o' mine's all broken up." "How was that?"