It is sunrise. The door of the hut swings on its heavy hinges. A sturdy-looking old fellow with grizzled beard and flowing locks steps out of the shack, and, as has been his wont for years, he scans the horizon for a sail or perchance for other more modern craft of the sea. In his arms, he is tenderly carrying a large Dominick rooster, which, judging from his length of spurs, and scaly legs, has lingered many summers. Satisfying himself that there is no boat in sight, to break the monotony of the view, Captain Ichabod places his only living companion--as he expresses it, his poultry alarm clock--upon the ground, and from a pocket produces a handful of corn, which the old cock greedily devours. These two have been companions for a long time. Captain Ichabod found him one morning perched upon the top of a floating crate, washed from the deck of a schooner that had gone upon the beach in a booming southeaster. The Captain had proved a life-saver indeed to the proud old bird. Ichabod, when he first spied Shrimp, as he afterward named this bit of flotsam, was wildly anxious to save the creature so it might have a life on shore suited to its nature and desires. Then it flashed upon him that his antiquated and well-worn alarm clock had ceased to work. It occurred to him that the rooster's crowing would suffice to advise him of the hour, and that there would be no need to buy another clock. The Captain was a woman-hater. This fact accounted for his choosing to live as a hermit on the bit of sand, which he had grown to love. But that loneliness was a trial to Shrimp, who naturally desired a harem of his own. Many times, when the wind was from the mainland, Captain Ichabod had heard the far-away crow of a barnyard fowl, and had gravely and criticizingly listened as Shrimp returned the salute in lusty manner. He had seen the bird swell in rage, and his comb turn red in jealous envy of the other rooster on the mainland. Captain Ichabod had now come to busying himself with fishing by hook and line for blue fish and sheepshead. In addition he set a line of gill nets in the cove for mullet or any other fish that might become entangled within their meshes. On all his excursions Shrimp accompanied his master. He would perch himself proudly upon the center-board box. More than once, before becoming a seasoned sailor, he had failed to dodge the boom to which the little leg o' mutton sail was attached, and had been knocked from his perch when Uncle Ichabod for a joke let the boat jibe in a flaw of the wind. But Shrimp learned. He learned to dodge the boom. He became, under stress of circumstances, an expert sailor--and was never seasick. When Shrimp had finished his meal, Ichabod addressed the mangy-looking bird very gravely: