Breakfast over, Ichabod busied himself in getting his nets and other fishing paraphernalia straightened out, for in his hurry to put them out of harm's way as the big blow came on, he had got them pretty badly tangled. It was mid-forenoon before he considered that things about the shack and door yard were about as they should be at the place of a first-class fisherman. Occasionally as he worked, he would glance toward the oyster rocks, where lay the remains of _The Isabel_, and he would wonder once again what could have been the occasion of the curious crime that had resulted in the death of the man chained to the engine. But all his musings brought only increased perplexity, until his wits were totally befuddled. He dare be sure only that the yachtsman he had rescued was either a villain or a maniac. It was a custom in the Sound Country for the natives at frequent intervals to favor their preacher, their doctor and the editor of the gossipy local newspaper with a gift of something attractive, either grown in their vegetable gardens, or taken from the waters round about. In this respect, Ichabod was not different from his neighbors of the other islands and the mainland. Many a time and oft, after he had made a particularly good catch of the delicious stone crabs or scallops, he had set sail to carry an offering of the delicacies to friends in the town. To-day, after he had finally established order in his house and among his accoutrements, he shouldered his clam fork, and, carrying a large bucket to hold the catch, strode out on the point. The tide was extremely low, and Ichabod was aware that now was the time to reach the place where round clams grew in great abundance. The old man was an expert at locating these shell-fish. The keyhole sign made by them in the sand was so familiar to him that he could walk along at a smart pace, while peering alertly here and there in search of it. When his eyes caught the mark, he would strike quickly with his fork into the yielding sand, and so bring to the surface one of the luscious bivalves. On this occasion, Ichabod filled his bucket well within the hour, and then, content, returned to the shack for a midday meal. When he was done eating, the fisherman washed the clams carefully and wrapped them in a neat bundle. He then took them on board the skiff, and made sail for Beaufort Town, to pay his promised visit to Doctor Hudson, and to present him with the morning's catch, which was of particularly good quality. In addition, he was prompted to the trip by anxiety to learn if anything had been heard in the town as to the identity of the yacht _Isabel_, or of those who voyaged in her.