"Dum it, ma! thar', ma!" cried Grandpa, exasperated beyond measure. "How
is this hoss goin' to hear anything that I say ef you keep up such a
tarnal cacklin'?"

Just as we were coming out of the thickest part of the woods, about a
mile beyond Wallencamp, we discovered a man walking in the distance. It
was the only human being we had seen since we started.

"Hullo, there's Lovell!" exclaimed Grandpa. "I was wonderin' why we
hadn't overtook him before. We gin'ally take him in on the road. Yis,
yis; that's Lovell, ain't it, teacher?"

I put up my glasses, helplessly.

"I'm sure," I said, "I can't tell, positively. I have seen Mr. Barlow
but once, and at that distance I shouldn't know my own father."

"Must be Lovell," said Grandpa. "Yis, I know him! Hullo, thar'! Ship
ahoy! ship ahoy!"

Grandpa's voice suggested something of the fire and vigor it must have
had when it rang out across the foam of waves and pierced the tempest's
roar.

The man turned and looked at us, and then went on again.

"He don't seem to recognize us," said Grandma.

"Ship a-hoy! Ship a-hoy!" shouted Grandpa.