⟨mud⟩-stained oilskins before going to ⟨his⟩ room. He shut the door behind ⟨him⟩, and taking off the top-coat, tossed ⟨it⟩ into a corner in the darkness. To ⟨his⟩ surprise a startled rustling came ⟨from⟩ that corner, and a hissing sound ⟨that⟩ seemed to repeat itself all about ⟨him⟩.
He hastily felt in his inner pockets, ⟨with⟩ his fingers numb with wet and (illegible text), for matches. Striking one, he ⟨looked⟩ about with eyes half blinded by ⟨the⟩ sudden glare that flickered only an ⟨instant⟩ and went out, but he dimly saw ⟨a⟩ tall, pale shape, with wide, waving ⟨arms⟩ outstretched. It repeated the ⟨hissing⟩, and a sharp sound like the ⟨snapping⟩ of a pistol made him start. ⟨Dropping⟩ the matches he called out quickly, ⟨Who's⟩ there? What in the dickens ⟨are⟩ you up to?"
No answer.
He felt about on the floor for the lost ⟨matches⟩, and came in contact with some (illegible text) thing that moved away; and again (illegible text) that sharp snap, so close to his ear ⟨this⟩ time that he recoiled promptly and ⟨tumbled⟩ over a heavy body that struck ⟨him⟩ sharply behind the knees.
"Hello!" he shouted, and then the ⟨connecting⟩ door opened, and the light ⟨from⟩ the lamp Bessie held revealed ⟨Humphrey⟩ seated helplessly upon the ⟨floor⟩, and all about him were standing ⟨solemn⟩ gray pelicans, who, as the light ⟨flashed⟩ upon them, lifted their wide ⟨wings⟩ and snapped their heavy ⟨mandibles⟩ together in a threatening manner.
He looked at them in silence a ⟨moment⟩ after he got on his feet, and under ⟨his⟩ breath mentioned the name of a ⟨place⟩ that modern theology has decided ⟨does⟩ not exist. Bessie leaned against ⟨the⟩ door in helpless laughter, in which ⟨he⟩ could not but join.
"Here," he said, "I am after all sorts ⟨of⟩ hard times and narrow escapes, to be ⟨scared⟩ to death and nearly eaten up by ⟨these⟩ blamed things. Where in the ⟨name⟩ of Davy Jones did you find so many of them? That old rooster there on the bench is the most uncanny beast I ever saw."
Bessie told him, between her spasms of laughter, that they had been driven inland by the wind, and had taken refuge on the sheltered side of the house, where they sat helpless and exhausted. She had felt so sorry for their forlorn state that she had driven them through the door into the unused room, where they had stood in grotesque dignity for the past two days.
"I suppose you will fatten them with the hens."
"No, indeed, they will be glad to go back to fishing when the wind goes down."
"They must be nearly as hungry as I am now," said Humphrey, as he divested himself of the rest of his superfluous clothing, while Bessie held the light. "I could eat one of them easily."
"Well, go wash your face, and you shall have something to eat."
He performed a hasty toilet, and brushed his hair before the little glass in the living-room that answered for the entire family.
"There, do I look better?" said he, turning his weather-reddened face, which was shadowed by the dark promise of a beard, toward her.
Bessie's appearance and manner baffled him sometimes, and he found it difficult to be perfectly at ease with her alone. She had rounded out into such a tiny and complete womanhood so soon, her red lips curved into such subtle and teasing smiles, that his own efforts in that kind of amusement were apt to seem profitless and stale. Now she regarded him critically.
"You are yet pale from your fright at the pelicans, the poor dears, but you will feel better when you have some coffee, and can tell me about your trip. It must have been very hard this week."
"Don't you think I am a 'poor dear,' too?"
