"It's sad enough," said Captain Bannister, "it's sad enough, all right. Once or twice I thought I'd bust right out cryin'." And the Captain chuckled a little, choked, and wheezed. "What beats me," he went on, "is where you picked up a yarn like that,--for you haint follered the sea very much, I take it?" "Not very much," said Mr. Daddles. "Not that yer troubles with that there canoe proves anything," returned the skipper, "for foolisher things was never invented. I wouldn't git into one of 'em not if you was to give me a thousand dollars. No, sir." "Oh, my experience of a sailor's life has been limited," said the new passenger. "To tell the truth, I've never been as far East as this but once before. I was here for a few days, summer before last. My uncle lives at Bailey's Harbor, on Little Duck Island." "Does he?" asked Jimmy Toppan,--"What's his name?" "Alfred Peabody." "Is HE your uncle?" exclaimed the Captain. "I know his house,--up there on the hill, aint it?" "Yes, but he isn't there now. My aunt was there for a while, but she went away, about two weeks ago. The house is closed, I suppose." Jimmy, who had been looking toward the shore, turned to the Captain. "This is Pingree's, isn't it, Captain?" "Yessir; this is Pingree's Beach. Two of yer better go ashore an' see old man Haskell. That's his shanty,--the one with the red door. Ask him to let yer have a basket of clams. Tell him I sent yer." Pingree's Beach was a short strip of sand, bordered with eel- grass. There were two small cottages, set above high-water mark, three dories drawn up on the shore, and a heap of lobster-pots and nets. Mr. Haskell could be seen moving in and out of his shanty. Jimmy Toppan and Mr. Daddles went for the clams, after the latter had changed his bathing-suit for a shirt, and a pair of duck trousers. Captain Bannister sailed the "Hoppergrass" quarter of a mile below the beach, put about, and came back in time to pick them up when they returned in the tender. Mr. Daddles was interested in the idea of a clam-chowder. He had already noticed the funny little noise which the clams made, as their shells opened and shut. "It seems rather hard-hearted to make them into a soup," he observed, "when they sing all the time like that." The Captain was not troubled by the song of the clams, however. "Here, Jimmy," he said, "you take the wheel while I shuck them clams." "Do what to 'em?" asked Mr. Daddles. "Shuck 'em," the Captain replied. Mr. Daddles still looked puzzled. "Take 'em out of the shells," explained Jimmy.