"That may be an advantage; at any rate let us hope so."
Sawyer Island, possibly a tenth as large as Barter, had been in sight for some time, and the steamer speedily drew up beside the rather rickety landing. It happened that no passengers and only a few boxes of freight were taken aboard. Only three persons left the boat—the two youths and the gentleman in a gray suit, who seemed to spend most of his time in reading the Lewiston Journal. This fact led Alvin and Chester to look at him with some interest. He carried a small handbag, and appeared to be confused after stepping ashore. He looked about for a minute or two and then addressed the agent, an elderly man with a yellow tuft of whiskers on his chin, no coat or waistcoat, a pair of trousers whose tops were tucked in his boots, and a single suspender which made the garments hang lopsided in a seemingly uncomfortable manner.
"I beg your pardon, friend, but isn't this the Isle of Springs?"
"Not much," replied the agent, with a grin that displayed two rows of big yellow teeth. "This is Sawyer Island."
"My gracious! you don't say so!" exclaimed the new arrival in no little astonishment. "How is that?"
"It's 'cause it happens to be so; can't you read?"
"What do you mean by such a question?"
"There are the words painted on the front of that shanty in big enough letters to read as fur as you can see 'em."
The man glared at them.
"Was there ever such stupidity? If I signalled the steamer do you think she would come back and take me up?"