“I seem to be lost, officer. I wonder if you could direct me?” “Where is it you want to go?” “I’m trying to get to Deer Isle.” He looked at me closely, and when he was satisfied that I wasn’t joking he swung on his hips and pointed across a small stretch of open water, and he didn’t bother to speak. “Is that it?” He nodded from up to down and left his head down. “Well, how do I get there?” I have always heard that Maine people are rather taciturn, but for this candidate for Mount Rushmore to point twice in an afternoon was to be unbearably talkative. He swung his chin in a small arc in the
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