And all the while Steve was thinking, He’s the same Pitch, all right. The short pants threw me off at first. I’ve never seen Pitch’s knees before. Just as knobby as the rest of him. His skin has darkened a lot from the sun, but his face hasn’t changed any. Mom always said that Pitch had the softest, roundest face she’d ever seen. Just take one look at Phil Pitcher, she’d say, and you know right off that he wouldn’t do a bit of harm to anyone.

The rowboat pulled alongside the wharf and Pitch got hold of Steve’s suitcase, sweeping it out of his hands. “You don’t know how good it is to see you, Steve!” he said. “I’ve looked forward to having you or your father down here for a visit. Tell me about him, Steve. And your mother? How is she?”

As they walked to the shed, Steve told Pitch all the news he could think of. He opened his suitcase for the Customs authorities, then shut it again when they’d finished looking through it. One of the Customs men took out a piece of chalk and scrawled his initials over Steve’s bag.

“Now we can go,” Pitch said, leading the way. “I have the car outside. We’re twelve miles from town.”

As they drove through the crowded streets, Pitch pointed out the local sights of interest—the bank, the market, theater, hotel—and then concluded by saying apologetically, “They’re really not much. Although,” he added more hopefully, “I do think you’re going to like our house. My brother Tom’s house, that is. It’s located on a high cliff overlooking the sea. A beautiful view, Steve, very beautiful.”

“I’m sure I’ll like it,” Steve assured him. He said it with enthusiasm, knowing very well that Pitch was afraid he’d be disappointed in his visit to Antago. It made him a little uncomfortable. So as they drove through the outskirts of town, he asked Pitch many questions about Antago and his life there.

And Pitch promptly reacted to Steve’s interest in the island. He told him about Antago’s sugar cane, among the finest grown in the world, he said. And his stepbrother, Tom, had the largest plantation on the island. Pitch was Tom’s bookkeeper. Yes, it was a much better job than working in the lumberyard office at home. It was very easy compared to that, he confided to Steve. Really, there wasn’t much to do except at harvest time. And the weather on Antago was always nice. A little hot just now, perhaps. But he could always stand the heat better than the cold. He had disliked the winters at home very much.

Steve pointed to Pitch’s shorts and said, smiling, “And you couldn’t get by with an outfit like that at home.”