THE COCKATOO MAN IN TROUBLE

The knowledge that the Double O's (Captain Ozias Littlefield and his cousin, Oliver) were near by, excited again Carolyn May's curiosity regarding the artificial limbs worn by the two old men. She easily interested Edna in the mystery, for Edna possessed her full share of inquisitiveness. They determined to make a combined raid upon the "Portugoosy" cabin by Dorris Cove and attempt to extort the longed-for confidences from the Cousins Littlefield.

Mrs. Cameron would not allow the little girls to walk along the beach as far as Beppo's hut; but after many careful directions from Molly Ball and admonitions from Carolyn's mother, they started for that attractive point by way of the patrol path above the beach.

There were several houses to pass in this direction, and the little girls had to go over or through many stiles. At most of the houses Carolyn was acquainted, for the neighbourhood women had learned to appreciate the quaint little "off" girl.

Aunt Ardelia Dodge never saw Carolyn near her house but that she made offering of the contents of her doughnut crock to tempt the little girl to "stop awhile." To Aunt Ardelia's mind a child's stomach was as an aching void, only to be appeased by continual "stuffing."

"You an' your little friend set right down on the doorstun an' I'll pop a hot doughnut into each o' your laps in a minute," declared the generous old woman. "Lucky you come along just as you did. This is Thursday and I always fry doughnuts on Thursday. Jest like I bake beans an' steam loaf on Sat'day.

"Smith, he never kin see why I have reg'lar days for cookin' sartain things. But if a body don't have some method in doin' things, where'll they be? That's what I say. Man's work is always helter-skelter, an' ketch-as-ketch-can. They air always waitin' on the weather, or on the tide, or on the moon, or some sech foolishness. Men's work is never systematic—nor judgmatic, neither."

"Oh, but my papa goes very regular to his work," objected Carolyn May. "He goes downtown at just a certain time, and gets back home at a certain time. Don't he, Edna? And your papa, too."

Edna nodded vigorously; but her mouth was too full of hot doughnut at the moment to agree audibly.

"Wal, I wish't I'd married an off man, then," said Aunt Ardelia. "For Smith never did 'preciate reg'larity, not even in cookin'. Why!" chuckled the voluble woman, "there was one time Smith Dodge took it inter his head he didn't want beans on a Sat'day night. Puffictly foolish idee. Everybody has baked beans for Sat'day night supper. But men will git them fits. It's the way the good Lord made 'em, I cal'late.

"'Ardely,' says he to me, 'I'm plumb sick o' smellin' beans ev'ry time I come nigh the house on Sat'day afternoon. Can't we have suthin' else for Sat'day supper for once't—fried sounds, or pollock an' potaters, or even fishcakes or chowder? This here reg'larity is a-drivin' of me wild.'

"I jest laughed at him. No use gettin' mad with a man. If ye do, ye can scratch yerself and get glad again. So I baked beans jest like I always do on Sat'days.

"An' when Smith, he come up from the shore where he'd been stackin' seaweed an' smelt the beans, he never says nothin', but he washes up, an' shaves, an' puts on his Sunday-go-to-meetin' clo'es, and says he:

"'I'm goin' over to Lucy Ann Mott's for supper, Ardely. An' I'll prob'bly stop the night.'

"So he went off. I knowed what he went for. He cal'lated he'd 'scape eatin' beans one Sat'day night. Lucy Ann's his niece. She thinks a heap o' Smith Dodge, an' Smith thinks a heap o' her. They was all glad to see him. When he come up into the yard Lucy Ann run to put another plate on the table, and says she:

"'You'm more than welcome, Uncle Smith. I'm jest a-goin' to take a pot o' beans out o' the oven. I hope they air as good as A'nt Ardely's?'

"Wal," chuckled the old woman, "ain't nothin' cramped about Uncle Smith's brains, if he has got tar on his breeches. He spoke right up quick-like, an' says he:

"'Lucy Ann, I can't stop along o' you folks to supper, though I'm just as obleeged. I was on my way to Peke Rose's, an' I got to see Peke about somethin' afore dark. Jest stopped here to pass the time o' day.'

"So he goes on to Peke's. Peke's wife," continued Aunt Ardelia, "is a might' good cook. Smith cal'lated he'd struck on good when he reached Peke's jest as they was settin' down to supper.

"'Set right up with us, Uncle Smith,' says Peke, givin' him a cheer. They all hailed him like he was a sight for sore eyes, and he got seated an' Peke axed Smith to ax a blessin'.

"An' when he opened his eyes after axin' that blessin', what d'ye s'pose he seen on the table right in front of him? A big, fat, brown beanpot!" chuckled Aunt Ardelia.

"Oh!" Carolyn's mouth was as round as the hole in the fresh doughnut the old woman dropped into her napkin-covered lap.

"But Smith Dodge," continued the narrator of this tale, "he warn't to be overdone that-a-way. He'd set out to find somethin' b'sides beans, and after supper he went on to Mrs. John-Ed Allen's. John-Ed is Smith's nevvy. They was all for havin' Uncle Smith stop all night an' they would take him to church, come Sunday mornin', in their surrey. So he stopped.

"Come Sunday mornin' he was up airly same as common," pursued Aunt Ardelia, "an' whad he see but Mrs. John-Ed puttin' the beanpot into the oven to warm up for breakfast! Smith, he was so mad, he never said a word but hiked right out cross-lots, intendin' to come home. But he come by Peter Littlefield's, an' Peter hailed him and he couldn't get away, and they sot him down to a big breakfast of pork an' beans!" and Aunt Ardelia went off into such a gale of chuckles that she could scarcely fork the brown doughnuts out of the smoking fat.

"He sez to me, Smith did, after he come home, 'No use, Ardely. Nobody can't say I don't know beans! I'm full an' plenty acquainted with 'em. They say "variety is the spice o' life." There ain't no spice left in life on this island. I cal'late ev'ry woman from Sands P'int to the heel of the Killies has her mind sot on baked beans for Sat'day night an' Sunday.'"

The little girls listened to the story of Uncle Smith's revolt with less appreciation, perhaps, than more mature persons might; but they appreciated Aunt Ardelia's doughnuts to the full.

Carolyn with her friend and Prince went on toward the cove and the cabin where the Double O's were staying. The shack stood at the foot of one slope of the great, barren sand hill which shut out the view of Dorris Cove from the south. The children and the dog followed the patrol path, which here dipped to the shore, and skirted the hill and soon came to the fisherman's shack.

It was empty. The door stood open and they could see all the interior. There were the two berths in which the cousins slept, both neatly made up with the cornhusk pillows plumped at the heads. The floor was swept and the little round pot-stove was well polished. The Double O's were as neat housekeepers as one could wish.

But there were some things which had not been changed since the departure of the original owner of the shack. Several religious pictures were tacked to the walls and there was a harpoon hung in beckets over the fireplace, for Beppo had been a famous boat-steerer in the old whaling days and that harpoon had "struck on" to many a deep sea monster.

Beside the mantel was a tiny altar and a figure of the Virgin hanging on the wall before which Beppo had burned a candle now and then in gratitude for favours received or expected. These oddities of furnishings were why Captain Ozias Littlefield had called the hut "Portugoosy."

"But I guess we can't go in," said Carolyn to her friend, "for Mr. Cap'n Littlefield isn't here."

"And can't we find out about his wooden leg?"

"Doesn't seem so," admitted the equally disappointed Carolyn.

"What'll we do, then?" asked Edna. "I wanted to see both their wooden legs. Are they just alike, Car'lyn?"

"Why, no," confessed her friend. "Their wooden legs aren't just alike. You see, one's a lefthand leg and the other's a righthand leg."

"Goodness! What's the difference?"

"Why, I don't suppose they can swap them, do you?" Carolyn replied, using an expression she had picked up from her longshore friends. "A right leg wouldn't fit on a left stump, would it?"

"Why not?" demanded Edna, inclined to argue the point.

Just then Prince, who had run around a spur of the hill, began to bark. A high-pitched, explosive voice was raised, warning the dog off:

"Don't you come a-nigh me, you pesky critter you! Git out!"

"Oh, dear me!" gasped Carolyn. "There's Mr. Oly Littlefield now—and he's mad. Prince!" she shrieked, and set off for the hidden spot where the cockatoo man and the mongrel had clashed. The path led up behind the fisherman's shanty and around the spur of the sand hill. In half a minute the two little girls were in sight of the wrangle.

Prince was bounding about the angry, red-faced old fellow, and barking. The cockatoo man was endeavouring to reach the dog with his cane.

Suddenly he over-reached himself in trying to hit Prince, and to save his balance, dropped the basket of groceries with which he had evidently walked from the Center, where the nearest store was.

The basket turned over and spilled out every package in it; and some of the packages burst. A hail of beans went hopping down the slant of the hill. Ground coffee, sugar, flour and what looked like hominy-grits mixed with the sand for yards around. Four lemons bounded down the hill, and Prince gave chase, perhaps thinking they were yellow rats.

"Prince! Prince, you behave!" cried Carolyn May.

"Dancin' Doolittles!" yelled Mr. Oly Littlefield. "Will ye look at that now? Ev'rything broke loose an' cast adrift. I vow! if they could, I wish't them lemons would p'ison that dratted dog. What'll Ozy say to this mess?"

Again he made a rush at Prince, who had returned at his mistress' call. Carolyn cried out again, for the heavy cane came near to hitting the dog. But disaster rode fast upon the old fellow's incautious attack. His wooden leg sank into the sand beside the path, and Mr. Littlefield was all but pitched headlong down the hill.

To save himself he threw his body sideways and wrenched the leg free. But that was only a momentary help. He could not regain his balance, and the force with which he dragged the wooden leg from the sand threw him too far in the other direction.

"Dancin' Doolittles!" he blared, striving to recover himself. "Hi! Drat that dog!"

His wooden leg kicked straight out. He pawed at the empty air with both hands, dropping his cane, which followed the basket and the groceries, hippity-hop, down the hill.

For an old man, and a wooden-legged man, Mr. Oliver Littlefield proved to be very agile. He made a wild leap, and landed in the soft sand. His wooden leg sank in this until he was more than knee deep in the shifting comminuted rock on that side, while his right leg was bent under him.

And in this position the catastrophe caught him. In his dancing around and stabbing the shifting sand with his wooden leg he started an avalanche. Carolyn May was the first to see the slide coming and she screamed:

"Oh! Come away, Princey, quick! You'll be drownd-ed in the sand!"

Several tons of the hill started slowly, and then with a swish like the sound of the surf, spread out and surrounded the struggling cockatoo man. It buried him to his waist.

Prince was fairly barking his head off. The little girls, quite out of the line of the avalanche, could only dance up and down and squeal. At this tragic juncture even the explosive ejaculation of "Dancing Doolittles!" failed to relieve the feelings of Mr. Oly Littlefield.