intercept a five which was floating under the stern of a near-by skiff. 

 Sam sat on the deck and panted. He played on the boards like a public fountain. At the back of his mind there was a flickering thought that he wanted to do something, a vague feeling that he had some sort of an appointment which he must keep; but he was unable to think what it was. Meanwhile, he conducted tentative experiments with his breath. It was so long since he had last breathed that he had lost the knack of it. 

 “Well, aincher wet?” said a voice. 

 The skipper’s daughter was standing beside him, looking down commiseratingly. Of the rest of the family all he could see was the broad blue seats of their trousers as they leaned hopefully over the side in the quest for wealth. 

 “Yes, sir! You sure are wet! Gee! I never seen anyone so wet! I seen wet guys but I never seen anyone so wet as you. Yessir, you’re certainly wet!” 

 “I am wet,” admitted Sam. 

 “Yessir, you’re wet! Wet’s the word all right. Good and wet, that’s what you are!” 

 “It’s the water,” said Sam. His brain was still clouded; he wished he could remember what that appointment was. “That’s what has made me wet.” 

 “It’s sure made you wet all right,” agreed the girl. She looked at him interestedly. “Wotcha do it for?” she asked. 

 “Do it for?” 

 “Yes, wotcha do it for? Wotcha do a Brodie for off’n that ship? I didn’t see it myself, but pa says you come walloping down off’n the deck like a sack of potatoes.” 

 Sam uttered a sharp cry. He had remembered. 

 “Where is she?” 

 “Where’s who?” 

 “The liner.” 

 “She’s off down the river, I guess. She was swinging round, the last I seen of her.” 

 “She’s not gone!” 

 Prev. P 25/190 next