"Go ahead, then! It can't do any hurt."

"Hi!" called out Filippo. "Listen! _Ascoltatemi!_"

The two men started as if they had been shot; they fixed their gaze on Filippo. He began talking rapidly to them in Italian, gesturing freely.

They replied in the same language. For fully ten minutes the heated dialogue continued. Jim and his mates listened in silence, now and then catching a word they had learned from Filippo, but not comprehending the drift of the debate.

At last it was clear that some conclusion had been reached. Shaking their heads in disgust, the two sullenly restored their guns to the cabin. Filippo turned to Jim.

"All right! They go to-night, after they pull traps. Now we start--right away!"

Jim looked at the Italian in amazement; but he started the engine and the sloop forged out of the cove. Once in the pa.s.sage, he broke silence.

"How did you ever manage it, Filippo?"

"I tell them your uncle own island; you hire it of him for summer. You lots of friends. If they no go, you send for sheriff right away. We too many for them. Guard cabin with gun till you get back. Sheriff come in night, while they sleep. Take them, take boat, take trap. Put them in jail. They break rock, work on road rest of summer. They not like that.

They go!"

"Good enough, Filippo! Guess you didn't strain the truth much. You certainly have got us out of an unpleasant hole. I'm free to say I was at my wits' end. Good thing for us we ran across you on the wharf at Stonington!"

"Better thing for me!" answered Filippo.

That evening after supper the boys stole silently through the woods to the northeastern end of the island. The Sly Hole was empty! The sloop had gone!

Stepping out of the evergreens, Jim looked westward along the sh.o.r.e.

"There they are!"

The dory towing astern was piled high with traps.

"Shouldn't wonder if they had some of ours among 'em!" exclaimed Jim.

"No matter! We're getting rid of 'em cheap, if they scoop a dozen! But look at that! They've got all they want, and now they're cutting away our buoys! Here's where I call a halt!"

He sprang out upon the bank in plain sight.

"Hi, there! Stop that!"

One of the men had just gaffed a buoy. At Jim's hail he glanced up and waved his hand nonchalantly. Then he deliberately cut the warp. The other man dropped into the cabin and reappeared with the two guns. Jim threw himself flat on his face.

"Down, boys!" he cried.

A hail of birdshot peppered the bluff and the woods behind it as both the double-barrels roared out in unison. One leaden pellet drew blood from the back of Jim's hand, while Throppy, a little slow in dropping to cover, was stung on the cheek. The others were untouched. Percy shook with fright and excitement. Lane was boiling with anger.

"Let's take the _Barracouta_ and follow 'em!" he proposed.

"Cool off, Budge!" laughed Jim. "That's just a parting salute. Besides, they've got two guns to our one. Let 'em go! And good riddance to bad rubbish! See! They're on their way now!"

The sloop's head swung to the north and she filled away.

"They've done what damage they've dared and they're gone for good.

They'll be up at Isle au Haut to-night, either in Head Harbor or Kimball's Island Thoroughfare. Forget 'em!"

"Lucky my temper isn't hitched up with your strength," said Lane.

IX

FISTS AND FIREWORKS

Late on the afternoon of July 3d, when the morning's catch of eighteen hundred pounds of hake had been split and salted, Spurling called a council of war. Percy attended with the others. He had gone out with Budge in the morning to haul the lobster-traps; the rest of the day he had loafed, lying on the soft turf below the beacon on Brimstone Point and reading _The Three Musketeers_.

Of the work that pleased him he had determined to do only as much as he liked, and not a stroke more. Lobstering was really attractive; there was enough novelty and excitement about it to keep him interested. When a pot came up it might contain no sh.e.l.l-fish or a half-dozen; the element of uncertainty appealed to his sporting instincts. But fishing he had stricken utterly from his list. It was too hard and too dirty.

Slogging at the heavy trawls and afterward dressing the catch was too plebeian a business for the son of a millionaire.

So he let the others tire their muscles and soil their hands and clothing while he attended strictly to the business of pleasing himself.

He could not help being aware of a growing coolness on the part of his a.s.sociates, but it gave him no concern. His month of probation was almost up, and he had decided that, come what might, he would leave at its end. Only a few days more, and this hard, monotonous island life would be behind him forever. He would send back a check to cover the expense of his board, and that would permanently close his relations with Spurling & Company.

This resolve to pay for meals and lodging gave him a feeling of independence. Hence, though he knew the others did not care whether he attended or not, he felt himself ent.i.tled to a place at the council.

The meeting took place on the beach in front of the cabin. Spurling and Stevens had just come from the _Barracouta_, their oilskin "petticoats"

bearing gory evidence of their work for the last two hours.

"Fellows," proposed Jim, "to-morrow let's celebrate! We can't set the trawls, for we haven't anything to bait up with. And even if we had, I don't believe in working on the Fourth. When I was at Matinicus the other day I saw a poster advertising a ball-game and big celebration at Vinalhaven. We'll have an early breakfast and run up there in the _Barracouta_. First, we'll go to Hardy's weir and take in a lot of herring for bait. Then we can slip round to Carver's Harbor and spend the rest of the day ash.o.r.e. What d'you say?"

There was no doubt regarding the vote.

"The ayes have it!" shouted Spurling. "Now let's get everything in trim for day after to-morrow! We won't pull the traps again until then."

Filled with enthusiasm at the prospect of a holiday, Budge, Throppy, and Jim dispersed to their various tasks. Yawningly, Percy returned to Brimstone Point and _The Three Musketeers_. After all, doing nothing on an island twenty-five miles out at sea was pretty dull work.

The boys had an early supper and were soon asleep. Turning out at daybreak, they despatched a hearty meal of corn-bread and bacon.

Everybody but Percy took hold with the dishes and helped tidy up the camp. Shortly after sunrise they were sailing out of the cove in the _Barracouta_.

The trip in past Saddleback Light to Vinalhaven was uneventful. By eight o'clock they were lying alongside Hardy's weir, and its owner was dipping bushel after bushel of shining herring into the pen aboard the sloop. Before ten they were anch.o.r.ed off the steamboat wharf at Carver's Harbor.

The town was in gala dress. Bunting streamed everywhere. Torpedoes, firecrackers, bombs, and revolvers rent the air with deafening explosions. The bra.s.s guns on two yachts in the harbor contributed an occasional salvo. As the boys rowed in to the sh.o.r.e the strains of "The Star-Spangled Banner" came floating over the water, and round the outer point appeared one of the small bay steamers, loaded with excursionists, including a bra.s.s band. On board also was the Camden baseball team, scheduled to play the opening game in the county league series with the home team that afternoon.

Bedlam broke loose as the steamer made fast to the wharf and the crowd aboard streamed ash.o.r.e. To Spurling and his friends, after three weeks of Tarpaulin Island, the narrow, winding street with its holiday crowd afforded the bustle and varied interest of a city. Even Percy deigned to allow himself to be tempted out of the sulky dignity which he had a.s.sumed since the council of the previous afternoon.

The group scattered. Lane and Stevens wandered about town, taking in the sights and dodging the torpedoes and firecrackers of enthusiastic patriots of a more or less tender age. Spurling found an old 'longsh.o.r.e acquaintance from a visiting boat and went off aboard to inspect his new type of engine. Filippo struck up an eternal friendship with a fellow-countryman from the granite quarries on Hurricane. Percy, left to his own resources, invested in a new brand of cigarettes and promenaded back and forth along the main street, smoking and eying the pa.s.sers-by superciliously.

Noon found the restaurants packed with hungry excursionists; but the crowds were good-natured and everybody was able to get plenty to eat. At two o'clock there was a grand rush to the baseball-grounds.

Spurling, Lane, and Stevens sat together in the front of the stand; Percy perched at the extreme right of the topmost row; while Filippo lay on the gra.s.s back of third base with his new-found, swarthy compatriot.

Evidently there was some hitch about beginning the game. The Vinalhavens had taken the field for practice. The Camden team, bunched close together, were talking earnestly, meanwhile casting anxious glances toward the street that led to the water.