“SECOND time? Had you met him afore that?”
“Don't get ahead of the yarn, Sim. It happened this way: You see, I was comin' along the road between East Wellmouth and the Center when I run afoul of him. He was fat and shiny, and drivin' a skittish horse hitched to a fancy buggy. When he sighted me he hove to and hailed.
“'Here you!' says he, in a voice as fat as the rest of him. 'Your name's Berry, ain't it.'
“'Yup,' says I.
“'Methusalum Berry or Jehoshaphat Berry or Sheba Berry, or somethin' like that? Hey?' he says.
“'Well,' says I, 'the last shot you fired comes nighest the bull's eye. They christened me Solomon, but 'twa'n't my fault; I was young at the time and they took advantage.'
“He grinned a kind of lopsided grin, like he had a lemon in his mouth, and commenced to cuss the horse for tryin' to climb a pine tree.
“'I knew 'twas some Bible outrage or other,' he says. 'There's more Bible names in this forsaken sand heap than there is Christians, a good sight. When I meet a man with a Bible name and chin whiskers I hang on to my watch. The feller that sets out to do me has got to have a better make up than that, you bet your life. 'Well, see here, King Sol; can you run a gasoline launch?'
“'Why, yes, I guess I can run 'most any of the everyday kinds,' says I, pullin' thoughtful at my own chin whiskers. This fat man had got me interested. He was so polite and folksy in his remarks. Didn't seem to stand on no ceremony, as you might say. Likewise there was a kind of familiar somethin' about his face. I knew mighty well I'd never met him afore, and yet I seemed to have a floatin' memory of him, same as a chap remembers the taste of the senna and salts his ma made him take when he was little.
“'All right,' says he, sharp. 'Then you come around to my landin' to-morrer mornin' at eight o'clock prompt and take me out in my launch to the cod-fishin' grounds. I'll give you ten dollars to take me out there and back.'