"Who came to the door?"

"Lady."

"What lady?"

"Dunno."

"Was it his wife?"

"Dunno as 'twas his wife."

His exasperated fare, afterwards tracking down her parent in Boston, made use of this incident for the slander of her stepmother.

"A nice impression she makes, to be sure! Even that numskull of a driver doubted whether she was your wife or not."

Giant Bluff came back that evening breathing out threats of slaughter.

Before midnight it was noised all about our village that he had sworn to shoot Uncle Abram on sight. The old driver was warned by a group of excited boys who found him serenely smoking over a game of checkers and were quite unable to interest him in their tidings. But the next day, when the station platform was well filled with our business men waiting for the eight o'clock into town, Uncle Abram drove up to the depot and reined in Daniel Webster just against the spot where Giant Bluff was standing, a little aloof for the reason that n.o.body cared to stand with him.

Taken by surprise as Uncle Abram coolly looked him over, Giant Bluff, unexpectedly to himself, said:

"Good morning."

"Ez good a mornin' ez G.o.d ever made."

Giant Bluff, who prided himself on his atheism, began to swagger.

"That's stuff and nonsense. Only babies and fools believe such rubbish nowadays."

"Thet so? Ain't no G.o.d, eh, and he never made no mornin's? Wal! Maybe ye'll put me in the way of findin' out about quite a few little things like that. I've hearn tell thet ye're goin' to shoot me, an' my rheumatiz is so bad this summer thet I'd be obleeged if ye'd shoot me right now an' hev it over."

"You--you insulted my wife," gasped Giant Bluff.

"Not a nary," protested Uncle Abram, with a touch of indignant color in his weather-beaten cheeks. "I said I didn't know whether the lady thet come to the door was your wife or not, an' no more I didn't. I hedn't never seen her afore. But even s'posin' thet your morals didn't hurt you none, do ye think I'd let it out to a stranger? No, siree; I'd a kep my mouth shet, for the credit o' the town. An' now thet I've had my say on thet little misunderstandin', ye kin shoot me ez soon ez ye like."

The crowded platform roared for joy, the opportune train came in, and Giant Bluff, the first to swing aboard, was not seen in the village again for a fortnight. So it came to pa.s.s that he was but newly acquainted with Emilius.

As I was aimlessly poking about with my twig in the last of those mysterious holes which Emilius had been so desperately resolved on digging, a number of small, round, white objects came to view.

"Why, what are those?" was my imbecile exclamation, stooping to see them better in the half light. Forthwith Giant Bluff was stooping at my shoulder.

"_Eggs._ Didn't you ever see turtles' eggs before? It beats me what you learned ladies don't know."

I went abruptly in to Joy-of-Life, and there we sat in the dusk, overwhelmed with contrition. Poor, dear, misunderstood, ill-treated Emilius! All he wanted was a chance to get away from the water and lay her eggs in some warm, deep chamber, where he could lie hidden for days, and they for weeks, in comfort and security. And how we had worried her with our continual upjerkings and immersions, how we had kept him digging one forbidden nursery after another, how arrogantly we had set ourselves against the unpersuadable urge of instinct!

Before breakfast the next morning we hurried out together to set Emilius free. There was no Emilius. The tub stood empty, from the tree dangled a bit of cut cord, the loose earth that marked the holes had been neatly raked over, there were no small, white, round objects to be found. Had Emilius gone for good and taken his eggs with her?

As we searched the ground in vain, Giant Bluff sauntered out of his back door, smiling an inscrutable smile.

"Saw that snapper of yours walking off an hour since. It went under the back fence out into the woods. Reckon you can't catch it, though it was traveling rather slow; couldn't hurry much, for it had a dozen little turtles trotting along on each side. Quite a handsome family!"

Joy-of-Life and I, turning our backs on that stupendous liar, stared at each other with horror dawning in our eyes.

Had he----? Would he----? Could he----?

_Emilius!_

HUDSON'S CAT

"This night our cat ranne crying from one side of the ship to the other, looking overboord, which made us to wonder; but we saw nothing."

--_Juet's Journal._

What did you see, O p.u.s.s.y-cat-mew, Pet of the _Half-Moon's_ turbulent crew?

Who taught them mew-tiny? Wasn't it you?

Juet kept journal of storm and fog And the mermaid that set them all agog, But what has become of the cat-a-log?

Henry Hudson, the master sage, Writ large his name on history's page, But you, you too, were a purr-sonage.

Shall the tale slight you, whose tail was a-quiver As you and Hudson sailed up the river Made only his by Time the giver?

Why did you take to adventuring, Puss-illanimous fireside thing?

What was the cargo you hoped to bring?

Did you dream of mult.i.tudinous mice Running about the Isles of Spice In a paradoxical Paradise?

Were you not homesick where monsters swam, Dolorous dolphin and clamorous clam, For your sunny stoop in Amsterdam?

Months at sea, while the billows roared, And the Milky Way not a cupful poured; No wonder Tabby looked over-bored.

You had your feelin's, as felines go, Poor little puss. What scared you so?

O stupid sailors that didn't know!

Was it a dogfish struck the spark From your sea-green eyes with the quaint remark That you were sailing upon a bark?

Millions of happy p.u.s.s.ies fall Into oblivion; still you call From the top of your ancient cater-wall,

Call on the centuries to concur In praise of Tabby the Mariner, Who discovered the Catskills, named for her.

CATASTROPHES