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“But I wasn’t interested in eyes jest then. All I could look at was teeth. There they was, a lovely set of ’em, in the mouth of the ugliest specimen of a bow-legged bulldog that ever tried to hang itself at the end of a chain. Allie was holding t’other end of the chain with both hands, and they were full, at that. The dog stood up on his hind legs and pawed the air with his front ones, and his tongue hung out and dripped. You could see he was yearning, just dying, to taste of a middle-aged longshoreman by the name of Obed Nickerson. I stared at the dog, and he stared at me. I don’t know which of us was the most interested.

“‘Here, you!’ says Allie again. ‘What are you crossing this field for?’

“I heard him, but I was too busy counting teeth to pay much attention. ‘You ought to feed that dog,’ I says, absent-minded like. ‘He’s hungry.’

“‘Humph!’ says he. ‘Well, maybe he’ll be fed in a minute. Did you see those signs?’

“‘Yes,’ says I; ‘I saw ’em. They’re real neat and pretty.’

“‘Pretty!’ He fairly choked, he was so mad. ‘Why, you cheeky, long-legged jay,’ he says, ‘I’ll– What are you crossing this field for?’

“‘So’s to get to t’other side of it, I guess,’ says I. I was riling up a bit myself. You see, when a feller’s been mate of a schooner, like I’ve been in my day, it don’t come easy to be called names. It looked for a minute as if Allie was going to have a fit, but he choked it down.

“‘Look here!’ he says. ‘I know who you are. Just because the gov’ner has been soft enough to let you countrymen walk all over him, it don’t foller that I’m going to be. I’m boss here for this summer. My name’s–‘ He told me his name, and how his dad had turned the place over to him for the season, and a lot more. ‘I put those signs up,’ he says, ‘to keep just such fellers as you are off my property. They mean that you ain’t to cross the field. Understand?’

“I understood. I was mad clean through, but I’m law-abiding, generally speaking. ‘All right,’ I says, picking up my dreeners and starting for the farther fence; ‘I won’t cross it again.’

“‘You won’t cross it now,’ says he. ‘Go back where you come from.’

“That was a grain too much. I told him a few things. He didn’t wait for the benediction. ‘Take him, Prince!’ he says, dropping the chain.

“Prince was willing. He fetched a kind of combination hurrah and growl and let out for me full-tilt. I don’t feed good fresh clams to dogs as a usual thing, but that mouth HAD to be filled. I waited till he was almost on me, and then I let drive with one of the dreeners. Prince and a couple of pecks of clams went up in the air like a busted bomb-shell, and I broke for the fence I’d started for. I hung on to the other dreener, though, just out of principle.

“But I had to let go of it, after all. The dog come out of the collision looking like a plate of scrambled eggs, and took after me harder’n ever, shedding shells and clam juice something scandalous. When he was right at my heels I turned and fired the second dreener. And, by Judas, I missed him!

“Well, principle’s all right, but there’s times when even the best of us has to hedge. I simply couldn’t reach the farther fence, so I made a quick jibe and put for the one behind me. And I couldn’t make that, either. Prince was taking mouthfuls of my overalls for appetizers. There was a little pine-tree in the lot, and I give one jump and landed in the middle of it. I went up the rest of the way like I’d forgot something, and then I clung onto the top of that tree and panted and swung round in circles, while the dog hopped up and down on his hind legs and fairly sobbed with disapp’intment.