The Depot Master - Joseph Crosby Lincoln

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break down. I looked after that. My motto is to look out for number one every time, and it's a mighty good motto. At any rate, it's made my money for me.'

      “He went on, preachin' about business shrewdness and how it paid, and how mean and tricky in little deals we Rubes was, and yet we didn't appreciate how to manage big things, till I got kind of sick of it.

      “'Look here, Mr. Williams,' says I, 'you know how I make my money—what little I do make—or you say you do. Now, if it ain't a sassy question, how did you make yours?'

      “Well, he made his by bein' shrewd and careful and always lookin' out for number one. 'Number one' was his hobby. I gathered that the heft of his spare change had come from dickers in stocks and bonds.

      “'Humph!' says I. 'Well, speakin' of tricks and meanness, I've allers heard tell that there was some of them things hitched to the tail of the stock market. What makes the stock market price of—well, of wheat, we'll say?'

      “That was regulated, so he said, by the law of supply and demand. If a feller had all the wheat there was and another chap had to have some or starve, why, the first one had a right to gouge t'other chap's last cent away from him afore he let it go.

      “'That's legitimate,' he says. 'That's cornerin' the market. Law of supply and demand exemplified.'

      “''Cordin' to that law,' says I, 'when you was so set on fishin' to-day and hunted me up to run your boat here—'cause I was about the only chap who could run it and wa'n't otherwise busy—I'd ought to have charged you twenty dollars instead of ten.'

      “'Sure you had,' he says, grinnin'. 'But you weren't shrewd enough to grasp the situation and do it. Now the deal's closed and it's too late.'

      “He went on talkin' about 'pools' and deals' and such. How prices of this stock and that was shoved up a-purpose till a lot of folks had put their money in it and then was smashed flat so's all hands but the 'poolers' would be what he called 'squeezed out,' and the gang would get their cash. That was legitimate, too—'high finance,' he said.

      “'But how about the poor folks that had their savin's in them stocks,' I asks, 'and don't know high financin'? Where's the law of supply and demand come in for them?'

      “He laughed. 'They supply the suckers and the demand for money,' says he.

      “By eleven we was well out toward the fishin' grounds. 'Twas the bad season now; the big fish had struck off still further and there wa'n't another boat in sight. The land was just a yeller and green smooch along the sky line and the waves was runnin' bigger. The Shootin' Star was seaworthy, though, and I wa'n't worried about her. The only thing that troubled me was the fog, and that was pilin' up to wind'ard. I'd called Fatty's attention to it when we fust started, but he said he didn't care a red for fog. Well, I didn't much care nuther, for we had a compass aboard and the engine was runnin' fine. What wind there was was blowin' offshore.

      “And then, all to once, the engine STOPPED runnin'. I give the wheel a whirl, but she only coughed, consumptive-like, and quit again. I went for'ard to inspect, and, if you'll believe it, there wa'n't a drop of gasoline left in the tank. The spare cans had ought to have been full, and they was—but 'twas water they was filled with.

      “'Is THIS the way you have your boat ready for me?' I remarks, sarcastic.

      “'That—that man of mine told me he had everything filled,' he stammers, lookin' scart.

      “'Yes,' says I, 'and I heard him hint likewise that he was goin' to make you sorry. I guess he's done it.'

      “Well, sir! the brimstone names that Fatty called that man was somethin' surprisin' to hear. When he'd used up all he had in stock he invented new ones. When the praise service was over he turns to me and says: 'But what are we goin' to do?'

      “'Do?' says I. 'That's easy. We're goin' to drift.'

      “And that's what we done. I tried to anchor, but we wa'n't over the ledge and the iron wouldn't reach bottom by a mile, more or less. I rigged up a sail out of the oar and the canvas spray shield, but there wa'n't wind enough to give us steerageway. So we drifted and drifted, out to sea. And by and by the fog come down and shut us in, and that fixed what little hope I had of bein' seen by the life patrol on shore.

      “The breeze died out flat about three o'clock. In one way this was a good thing. In another it wa'n't, because we was well out in deep water, and when the wind did come it was likely to come harder'n we needed. However, there wa'n't nothin' to do but wait and hope for the best, as the feller said when his wife's mother was sick.

      “It was gettin' pretty well along toward the edge of the evenin' when I smelt the wind a-comin'. It came in puffs at fust, and every puff was healthier than the one previous. Inside of ten minutes it was blowin' hard, and the seas were beginnin' to kick up. I got up my jury rig—the oar and the spray shield—and took the helm. There wa'n't nothin' to do but run afore it, and the land knows where we would fetch up. At any rate, if the compass was right, we was drivin' back into the bay again, for the wind had hauled clear around.

      “The Shootin' Star jumped and sloshed. Fatty had on all the ileskins and sweaters, but he was shakin' like a custard pie.

      “'Oh, oh, heavens!' he chatters. 'What will we do? Will we drown?'

      “'Don't know,' says I, tuggin' at the wheel and tryin' to sight the compass. 'You've got the best chance of the two of us, if it's true that fat floats.'

      “I thought that might cheer him up some, but it didn't. A big wave heeled us over then and a keg or two of salt water poured over the gunwale. He give a yell and jumped up.

      “'My Lord!' he screams. 'We're sinkin'. Help! help!'

      “'Set down!' I roared. 'Thought you knew how to act in a boat. Set down! d'you hear me? SET DOWN AND SET STILL!'

      “He set. Likewise he shivered and groaned. It got darker all the time and the wind freshened every minute. I expected to see that jury mast go by the board at any time. Lucky for us it held.

      “No use tellin' about the next couple of hours. 'Cordin' to my reckonin' they was years and we'd ought to have sailed plumb through the broadside of the Cape, and be makin' a quick run for Africy. But at last we got into smoother water, and then, right acrost our bows, showed up a white strip. The fog had pretty well blowed clear and I could see it.

      “'Land, ho!' I yells. 'Stand by! WE'RE goin' to bump.'”

      Captain Sol stopped short and listened. Mr. Phinney grasped his arm.

      “For the dear land sakes, Sol,” he exclaimed, “don't leave me hangin' in them breakers no longer'n you can help! Heave ahead! DID you bump?”

      The depot master chuckled.

      “DID we?” he repeated. “Well, I'll tell you that by and by. Here comes the train and I better take charge of the ship. Anything so responsible as seein' the cars come in without me to help would give Issy the jumpin' heart disease.”

      He sprang from the truck and hastened toward the door of the station. Phinney, rising to follow him, saw, over the dark green of the swamp cedars at the head of the track, an advancing column of smoke. A whistle sounded. The train was coming in.

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      And now life in East Harniss became temporarily fevered. Issy McKay dashed out of the station and rushed importantly up and down the platform. Ed Crocker and Cornelius Rowe emerged and draped themselves in statuesque attitudes against the side of the building.

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