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Clouston, J. Storer (Joseph Storer), 1870-1944

"The Man from the Clouds"

On the night
I landed I had met no watchers.
"Who watches the shore up at the north end--near the Scollays'
farm?" I asked.
"Oh, Dr. Rendall and Mr. O'Brien look after that beat," said she.
In a flash my belief in my own adventure had begun to return. Either that
couple neglected their duty--or I had met one of the watchers!
"Do the doctor and Mr. O'Brien ever go out themselves--like your father
to-night?" I asked.
"Mr. O'Brien goes out pretty often, I believe."
I thought for a moment longer and then I jumped up.
"This seems the very job for an able-bodied young man," I said with a
laugh. "I'm going out to join the watchers!"
"You!" she exclaimed, springing up too.
I looked her straight in the eye.
"Why not me?" I enquired.
She said nothing for an instant, and then she remarked in quite a matter
of fact voice,
"Very well; if you are going, I'll come with you."
I could not resist parodying her.
"You!" I exclaimed.
But I got no smile in response.
"I'll be ready in five minutes," she said as she left the room.
"Now what the devil does this mean?" I said to myself.
Five minutes of course meant quarter of an hour, and then we sallied
forth into the night, she in a long tweed coat and I in my
inevitable oilskin.
"Which way do you want to go?" she asked.


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