To the average humane person the loss of a pet, whether through thievery or death itself, brings a very real sorrow for a time. How much worse it must be for one who lives alone, a recluse on an island of sand in the sea, to suffer the loss of his only living companion, something to come at his beck and call, something that seems indeed to reciprocate its master's affection!

It is true that Shrimp was only a fowl—a Dominick rooster at that. Probably, from the standpoint of intelligence, a creature very low in the scale. But its association in this case had developed the qualities of the bird. The years of companionship had brought man and rooster to an intimate understanding of each other.

When Captain Ichabod stepped from his shack, his pocket bulging with corn for his favorite, and saw the rooster showing afar off against the snow-white sand where he was industriously scratching, and whistled a summoning call, Shrimp would come racing toward him at top speed, with wings beating a rhythm to his hurrying legs. Then would the rooster greedily pick the grain of corn from his master's horny palm, clucking the while guttural notes of gratitude. And at such moments Ichabod's heart would grow warm with pleasure in the realization that it was within his power thus to make one of God's creatures happy.

When Doctor Hudson came to the door of the shack, where the bereft old fisherman sat, shaken with sorrow over his loss, he tenderly smoothed the Captain's wrinkled brow. He asked to know the cause of this sudden misery.

Ichabod, with a boylike gesture, brushed away the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. Then he straightened himself, and met the physician's kindly gaze squarely.

"Thar ain't no call for explanations when a feller's feelin's are teched. Doc, do ye know o' some lonely codger that needs a good housekeeper?"

The earnest question came in such startling contrast to the old man's manner of a moment before, when he was shaken with sobs, that the Doctor was hard put to it to restrain a burst of laughter. But by a great effort he limited his expression of amusement to a broad smile as he replied:

"Yes, I know one—an old retired fisherman by the name of Jones, Captain Ichabod Jones. He's a man who has weathered many of the storms of life. Now, as his bark is getting nearer to the last port, he needs to be less alone." A note of very sincere sympathy had crept into the physician's voice. "He should no longer be troubled with the cares of looking after his own home. But, I suppose, there's no use mentioning this to the man himself."

"Yo'r in the right church, Doc," replied the fisherman, "but ye are approachin' the wrong pew. Ichabod Jones has proved himself this day. I did 'low that I was gettin' sort o' decrepit like, but this mornin' proved to me that I ain't as near all in as me and my friends thought. Didn't I tote a human woman nigh onto a quarter of a mile without a-hurtin' me a mite? No, sir, Doctor, I am the man that wants the job. Them scoundrels that I saved has stole all that I had in the world to come home to and now I'm ready to quit this island o' mine and go an' dust out an' cook vituals for some crabbid old customer that is meaner than me. The more he'd quarrel the more it 'ould suit fer it 'ould take my mind off of this woman business that took place here to-day, and then I might larn to forgit the rooster."

"Jones, I believe you're crazy!" The Doctor exclaimed half angrily. Then he added, with a grin: "I guess I'd better give you a sedative to quiet those overwrought nerves of yours. Then you can get inside the shack, lie down on your bunk and doze off for a spell."

The old fisherman took the remark with all seriousness. His face grew livid as he stared at the Doctor with widened eyes. He stretched to his full height and spoke in a tone of tense solemnity.

"I will have you to know, Doctor Hudson, that never again will Ichabod Jones occupy that bunk, for—God A'mighty, man!—it has been desecrated by a woman. Of course, it was my own fault, I suppose. But then there was death a-starin', an' what could I do? When I built that hut an' tossed the fust blankets on that bunk I swore by the power that rules the waters what washes over this sand-bank o' mine that no woman should ever be welcome. An', by the Eternal, I meant it! They may say that Icky Jones has quar notions, and like enough he has, but when that woman what I loved saw fit to take on the beach-comber o' Port Smith Town, an' left me to be the laughin' stock o' Cartaret County, I sure as shootin' made up my mind that it couldn't happen but once in my lifetime—an' it hain't—an' it won't! An' say, Doc, when that foreign woman, whilst I was a-bringin' her to, opened up them pretty eyes an' looked at me fer the fust time, I made up my mind or rather diskivered, that old as I be an' quar as I be, I can't trust myself agin whar thar's women. Sure as thar's clams and oysters on them rocks yonder, I'd play fool, an' try an' make it heigh-ho for the parson. You see, Doc, it ain't that I hate women that I located on this lonely island. It's because, by golly, I'm afeared of 'em."

This was the first time, so far as the physician knew, that Ichabod had ever thus frankly confessed the truth concerning his bitter marital experience and its effect on his life. Doctor Hudson was deeply impressed by the fisherman's display of emotion. He spoke seriously in reply:

"Captain, you can't imagine how glad I am to have heard you say this. Until now, I never could understand how a man of your honest character and kind heart could hate the sex to which we owe our being, the sex that has done so much to make life more beautiful, to make happiness for humanity. Now, at last, I understand. Your seeming hatred has been merely a mask for cowardice. You'd fight a giant, if need be—just as you have fought that giant, the sea, so often and so bravely. But, just the same, you're an arrant coward. You turn tail and run when a woman's in question, because you're afraid of the weaker sex. I suspect it's time for you to reform. I want you to come to town with me now, and stay there until you've fully recovered from to-day's excitement. While you're there, I'll look round and see what I can do toward finding you a place as housekeeper."

Ichabod shook his head with great emphasis.

"No, sir, Doc," he declared sturdily, "I ain't a-goin' to stir a step fer the town. But I'll let ye tow me as far as the Spar Channel. Then I'll set sail fer the coast-guard station. I'll spin my yarn thar to the boys, an' like's not spend the night with 'em. Then I reckon I'll come back to the Island. But, fust off, I'll stop at your office an' git some fumigatin' powders, so's to fix the house fit fer Ichabod again."

The Captain and the physician made some further examination, which convinced them that the strangers had in fact left the Island by means of the wrecked yacht's little tender. Assured of this, the two men set forth, the Doctor for Beaufort, Ichabod to pay his visit at the life-saving station near old Fort Macon, where he knew that he was sure of a royal welcome.