The wondrous array of goods in Cap'n Abe's store did not so much
startle the visitor, as the figure that rose from behind the counter,
where he was stooping at some task.
She might be excused her sudden cry, for Cap'n Amazon was an apparition
to shock any nervous person. The bandana he wore seemed, if possible,
redder than usual this morning; his earrings glistened; his long
mustache seemed blacker and glossier than ever. As he leaned
characteristically upon the counter, his sleeves rolled to his elbows,
the throat-latch of his shirt open, he did not give one impression of a
peaceful storekeeper, to say the least.
"Mornin', ma'am," said Cap'n Amazon, not at all embarrassed. "What can
I do for you, ma'am?"
"You--you are not Captain Silt?" the visitor almost whispered in her
agitation.
"Yes, ma'am; I am."
"Captain Abram Silt?"
"No, ma'am; I ain't. I'm Cap'n Am'zon, his brother. What can I do for
you?" he repeated. The explanation of his identity may have been
becoming tedious; at least, Cap'n Amazon gave it grimly.
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