"What's that? Don't try to fool with me young feller. I ain't as crazy as
I reckon I looks."
There was a certain dignity about the man when he spoke, that, despite
his ragged clothing and miserable habitation, was impressive.
"No, it's really so," Jimsy hastened to assure him, "we--we came in an
aeroplane, you know."
"Well, now," said the man scratching his head, "I reckon that's the first
of them contrivances to reach Lost Brig Island."
"Lost Brig Island," echoed Jess in an alarmed tone; "is this an island?"
"If the geography books still define an island as a body of land
surrounded by water, it is," rejoined the man, with a smile.
"Are we far from Cape Charles?" asked Peggy, eagerly.
"Why, no. Not more than six miles to the north. But what under ther sun
air you young folks in your fine clothes a-doin' out here?"
Peggy hastily explained, and the man said that he had seen some reference
to the coming contests in a stray paper the light-keepers had given him
the last time he passed the lighthouse in a small boat he kept.
"Is the island inhabited?" inquired Jimsy; "we'd like to get something to
eat. If there's a hotel or----."
The man of the island burst into a laugh. Not a rough guffaw, but a laugh
of genuine amusement.
"I guess I'm the only hotel keeper on the island," he said, "and my guests
is sea gulls and once in a while a turtle.
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