"There must be some road back up on the island," he thought, "that will lead me near the cove where the 'Gypsy' is," and still retaining the cushions, he started to find it. But he was a stranger to Southport Island and the farther away from the sea he got, the thicker grew the tangle of scrub spruce and briers. It was too thick to see anywhere, and after a half hour of desperate scrambling, the afternoon sun began to seem about due east! He had long since dropped the cushions, and finally, in sheer exhaustion, sat down on a rock to collect himself. "It looks as though I'm billed to stay here all night," he thought, as he noted the lowering sun, "and nobody knows how much longer! There must be a road somewhere, though, and I'm going to find it if the light lasts long enough." He started once more and had not gone ten rods ere he came to one, and then he breathed easier. His clothes were torn, his hands and face scratched by briers, and to save himself he couldn't make it seem but that the sun was setting in the east! He sat down to think. All sound of the ocean was gone and a stillness that seemed to crawl out of the thicket was around him. He rested a few moments more, and then suddenly heard the sound of wheels and presently saw, coming around the curve, an old-fashioned carryall, worn and muddy, and, driving the horse at a jog trot, a man as dilapidated-looking as the vehicle. Gladdened at the sight, he arose, and holding up his hand as a signal, halted the team. "Excuse me, sir," he said to the man, who eyed him curiously, "but will you tell me where I am?" "Wal," was the answer in a slow drawl, "ye'r' on Southport Island, and 'bout four miles from the jumpin' off place. Whar might ye be goin'? Ye look bushed." "I am," answered Page, "and badly bushed too. I lost my boat over back here on the shore, and have had a cheerful time among the Mohawk briers. I belong to a yacht that is anchored in a cove of this island, I can't tell where, and if you will take me to her I'll pay you well." The man in the wagon laughed. "Say, stranger," he observed with a chuckle, "you 'mind me o' the feller that got full and wandered round for a spell till he fetched up to a house, an' sed to the man that cum to the door, 'If you will tell me who I am, or whar I am, or whar I want ter go, I'll give ye a dollar!'" Page had to laugh in spite of his plight, for the humorous twinkle in the old man's eyes as he uttered his joke was infectious. "I'd like ter 'commodate ye," he added, "but as I'm carryin' Uncle Sam's mail, an' must git home an' tend the light, and as ye don't know whar ye want ter go, ye best jump in an' go down to Saint's Rest, whar I live, an' in the mornin' we'll try an' hunt up yer boat." It seemed the only thing to do, and Albert availed himself of the chance. "Can you tell the spot where you found me?" he said to the man as they started on. "I'd like to go back there to-morrow and find my cushions."