There, stretching themselves out on the hot sands before the blaze, they waited for their clothing to dry on them. They were much liked by the boys and girls of the village, and were at once a part of a jolly group, each of which party had a separate detail to recount in the capsizing of the canoe as they had seen it. All at once the picnickers were startled by a howl of rage from Colonel Witham. All eyes were turned upon him. He was executing the most extraordinary contortions and dance-steps that could be imagined. An Indian chief, excelling all his tribe at a war-dance, could not have outdone the grotesque movements of the colonel. “What ails the man?” cried Captain Sam. “He must have gone clean crazy.” And he started for the colonel on the run. But before he could reach him another accident happened. In his dancing about, the colonel trod most unexpectedly on a small log of wood, his heels flew out from under him, and down he came with a mighty splash in a little pool of sea-water that had been left in a hollow of rock by the last receding tide. There the colonel lay, like an enormous turtle, helpless for a moment with rage and astonishment, and all the while sputtering fiercely and crying out. “What on earth ails you, colonel?” asked Captain Sam, hurrying to his assistance. “You haven’t gone crazy, have you?” And he helped the colonel to his feet with a great effort. “Pepper!” roared the purple-faced colonel. “Pepper!” “Pepper!” cried Captain Sam. “What about pepper?” “Everything about it!” sputtered the colonel. “It’s in the chowder! Taste it and see.” “What’s that?” cried Captain Sam. “If those young scamps have peppered the chowder I’ll thrash every one of them myself. Here, let me see,” and, picking up the ladle which the colonel had dropped, he cautiously tasted the chowder. “Why, there’s no pepper in it,” he said. “It’s just right. I don’t taste any pepper.” As, indeed, he did not, the colonel having got it all. “You must have a strong imagination, colonel,” he said. “Imagination!” bellowed the colonel. “Imagination! I just wish your tongue was stuck full of a million red-hot needles and your mouth was filled with hornets, that’s all I wish. Where’s the boy that put that pepper into that spoon? Where is he? Show him to me and I’ll make an example of him right here. I’ll put him head first into the chowder by the heels.” As no one had put the pepper into the ladle, no culprit could be found to show to the colonel; and as the colonel could not select a victim out of a score or more of boys who were present, he could only vent his rage to no purpose, while the villagers, who had laughed themselves nearly sick over the colonel’s antics, gave him what sympathy they could feign. It ended in the colonel’s taking himself off in a great fury, declaring that any one who pleased could make the chowder, and he hoped it would choke them all, and that fish-bones innumerable would stick in the throats of whoever ate it.