For a moment the dark-visaged little Frenchman stood uncertainly. Then he looked directly at Hans. "I will do as you say," he agreed. "But should I catch anyone at my nets, they or I will not live to speak of it afterwards."

"The same will happen should I catch anyone at our nets," Hans promised.

"But let us catch them before we act."

Baptiste LeClaire swept his hat off, made a courtly bow, murmured, "Your health, Madame and Messieurs," and turned back toward the pier. Expertly handled, the _Bon Homme_ sailed gracefully into the lake. Astonished, Ramsay stared at Hans, and Pieter and Marta reflected his astonishment.

"What's got him by the ear?" Ramsay asked.

"Baptiste," Hans said, "had three pound nets which he tended with pound boats. He had a number of gill nets which he visited with the _Bon Homme_, a proper gill net boat."

Hans stared out on the lake, as though seeking the answer to some question that plagued him. He turned to face the others.

"Baptiste has no more pound nets. They have all been raised and ripped to shreds. The spiles to which he attached them were broken. Of the gill nets he once had, one remains. The rest were destroyed. Aside from his years of labor, Baptiste has lost more than two thousand dollars'

worth of nets."

"Who did it?" Ramsay gasped.

Hans shrugged. "Someone who has discovered, at last, that there is money to be had in Lake Michigan fishing. Someone who will stop at nothing to get all of it for himself."

There was conviction in Ramsay's "Devil Chad!"

Hans shrugged again. "So Baptiste thinks."

"What do you think?"

Hans swung so fiercely on him that Ramsay retreated a step. "You heard what I told Baptiste!" the Dutch fisherman said. "We must be certain! It is not for us to appoint ourselves judge, jury and executioner! Before we act we must be sure!"

"Should we call in the constable?"

Hans said scornfully, "Devil Chad's man!"

"What must we do?"

"Watch ourselves," Hans declared. "Hereafter we must leave the nets unguarded and the lake without our own patrol, only when we are sure it is safe. If someone has come to take from us our right to fish, we must be our own protection. At the same time we must not act blindly. The lake is big enough for all. If one has come who would take everything for himself, we fight."

"You know it's Devil Chad."

"I know no such thing."

"Do you suspect him?"

"Yes," Hans answered frankly.

"Then why not take action?"

"Look, boy," and Ramsay writhed because never before had Hans addressed him in such a fashion, "lives are now at stake. Let us be sure before we lose ours or take someone else's!"

"You are right," Pieter approved. "Yes, you are right."

Puzzled, Ramsay looked at his two partners. It was absurd to suppose that either was afraid; they had proven their courage too many times.

Yet, though both thought Devil Chad the raider, both refused to move against him until they had proof of his piracies. Ramsay thought of something he had read, 'A man is innocent until proven guilty.' Maybe Hans and Pieter believed that sincerely, while the hot-headed Baptiste was ready to strike at anything at all.

Ramsay felt a rising admiration for his partners. "What must we do?" he asked.

"I doubt if they'll strike by day," Hans said. "If they come, it will be in the night. We'll make three watches, and alternate on them. That way they cannot surprise us."

"Suppose they come?"

Hans shrugged eloquently. "Then we will fight and fight hard, for it is certain that no one else will do our fighting for us. Do either of you have a choice as to watches?"

Nobody had a choice. Hans broke three straws of different lengths, concealed them in the palm of his hand, and held them out. They drew, and compared straws. Pieter had the shortest, the first watch, Ramsay the second and Hans the third. Hans looked thoughtfully at the twilight-softened lake. "Pieter, do you want to go out at seven and stay until eleven?"

"Yaah."

"Good. Ramsay, stay out until about two and awaken me."

"All right."

Ramsay ate the excellent supper Marta had prepared, listened idly to the chatter of Tradin' Jack, who knew what had happened and was nervous because of it, and went upstairs to bed. In spite of his inner tension and his excitement, his head had scarcely touched the pillow when he dozed off. A moment later, or so it seemed, Pieter was touching his shoulder.

"It's time."

"I ... Huh? Oh, yes."

Ramsay came fully awake, and Pieter lighted the candle in his room. Its beams sparkled brightly on the shining barrel of the muzzle-loading fowling-piece Pieter carried. Of a huge bore, the gun was charged with black powder and loaded with lead slugs. Ramsay shuddered as he accepted it. Such a gun would be sure to work great havoc among anything it was shot at, but its recoil alone would probably set a mule back on its haunches.

"Anything happen?" Ramsay whispered.

"Nothing," Pieter said. "Nobody came. The lake is calm and the boat awaits you on the beach."

"I'll see you in the morning."

"Good luck."

His shoes in one hand and the shotgun in the other, Ramsay stole quietly down the stairs and out the back door. He stopped to put his shoes on, and looked around him.

A pale moon shone through disheveled clouds that gave the sky the appearance of a man sadly in need of a hair-cut, and the faintest suspicion of a breeze kicked up small wavelets. Asleep on the ridge pole, Captain Klaus was a dull, shapeless blob in the night sky. Ramsay cradled the shotgun in his right elbow and walked down to the beach.

The pound boat had wedged itself lightly against the sand. Ramsay put the anchor back in, carefully laid the shotgun on the rower's seat, and stood in the stern until he had tilted the craft from its mooring.

Sitting down, with a vigorous stroke of the oars he sent the boat farther into the lake.

In the bay a fish jumped out of water, and the sound of its falling back made a tinkling splash. Ramsay, dipping his oars quietly, steered toward the first pound net they had set. At intervals he halted to rest on the oars. There were no sounds save those that should have been present.

Except for him and the pound boat, the lake seemed deserted. Lingering in the shadows, Ramsay circled the net and saw nothing. He started toward another of their pound nets.

They had kept the seine busy, taken good catches from their pound nets, and turned most of their money back into additional equipment. They were getting ahead and setting themselves up in the fishing business. By next year they should have everything they needed. They would not have to buy any nets, or boats, and could begin to enjoy the profits they were earning.

Ramsay found himself thinking of Devil Chad. Fishing was very hard work, and expensive, but whoever did it well could hope for a fine future.

Lake Michigan was a vast reservoir of riches, and they were to be used.