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“It’s too dreadful,” she said. “I had something of the utmost importance to tell Billy, something that I wanted him to do for me down-town. And I overslept.”

“Well,” said I, “let me tell you what a good fellow Billy is. He hasn’t gone yet.”

“Good Heavens!” she cried, “not gone yet? Why, what time is it? Why, he won’t get down-town in time for the opening!”

“Probably not,” I said. “He was just going, when suddenly he said, ‘I know there’s something my wife wants to say to me.’ I said, ‘Wake her up and find out what it is.’ He said, ‘No, she’s getting so she can’t do without her beauty sleep; I’ll just wait around till she wakes of herself.'”

“Sam,” said Mrs. Randall, “what has happened to my husband?”

“Nothing much,” I said. “He’s in the same boat with many others–only it isn’t a boat. Don’t be alarmed.”

“Where is my husband?” said she.

“If you are equal to a short, muddy walk,” I said, “I will show him to you–Morning, little Miss Tombs–want to see brother and young Fitch? They said they wouldn’t go to town till you’d seen them–Morning, Mrs. Giddings–morning, Miss Marshall–I’m not much on breaking bad news, but there’s been an accident to all your husbands and brothers and fiances. They’re all alive still, so far as I know–but they ought not to last more than five or six days.”

“It’s proposed,” said Sally, “that we all go and see what can be done for them.”

We refused to answer any questions. We led the way to the pier and pointed out the float, and the men on it. “There,” said Sally, “you can see them quite plainly from here.”

“Yes,” said I, “and the more plainly you see them, the plainer they are.”

“Will you kindly tell me,” said Mrs. Randall, “what my husband is doing out there on that float?”

“He is doing nothing,” I said. “You can see for yourself. And it isn’t a float any more.”

“Better tell them what has happened,” said Sally.

“No, Sally,” I said, “no.”

“Yes, Sam,” she said.

“Oh, all right,” I said, “if you really think it’s best. The fact is, ladies, the whole thing is a piece of drunken folly. You know how men are when they get drinking and arguing, and quarrelling. To make a long story short, it came to Billoo’s insulting Randall; Randall challenges him; duelling is against the law; they take pistols and witnesses out on the water beyond the jurisdiction of the United States; and they were going to murder each other. But it’s all right now–don’t be frightened.”

Sally had turned her face away, and I’m sure I was serious as a judge. I patted Mrs. Randall on the shoulder.

“Even if your husband isn’t brave,” I said, “he’s clever, clever and deep.”

“My husband not brave!” she cried. “I like that; he’s the bravest man I ever saw.”

“Well, that may be,” I said doubtfully, “but, considering that on the way out to the duelling ground, or water, when nobody was looking but Sally and me, he kicked the box of cartridges overboard. But, perhaps they’ll agree to use pocket-knives–“

“Sam,” said little Miss Tombs, “I’ll give you a kiss good-morning if you’ll be serious.”

“Wait till Fitch is looking,” I said.

Then Sally explained what had happened, and edged herself so politely between little Miss Tombs and me that the others laughed.

“They’ll float at high tide, won’t they?” asked Mrs. Giddings.

“No,” I said. “It was high tide when they ran aground. It will take a tugboat to get them off.”

The words weren’t out of my mouth when a tugboat appeared round the corner of the island, making up the channel. The men on the float began to scream and yell, and jump up and down, and wave their arms. But the tugboat paid no attention. It thought they were drunk. It passed within three hundred yards of them, whistled a couple of times, and became small in the distance.