“Skip—Skippy, kid!” Tully called, shaking the boy to arouse him.

Skippy sat up, startled. Mugs barked blatantly.

“What’s up, huh? You look as if something’d happened—what’s the matter?”

Tully motioned him into the shanty where he lighted the lamp and sat down.

“Can ye stand hearin’ somethin’ without faintin’?” he asked mirthlessly.

“I guess so,” the boy answered shaking his straight hair from off his forehead. “But I hope it ain’t anything worse!”
169

“Better and worse, sorta,” Big Joe laughed ruefully. “But first so’s to be aisin’ ye, kid—the Davy Jones turned back, so she did, when she reached the bay this mornin’. From what the boat tender told me, sure must o’ put a little extra dose o’ the powder in the breather and she started kickin’ up a rumpus a little sooner than ordinary, she did. So the owner, bein’ a foxy guy, turned back when he heard that and saw the storm clouds comin’ in from over the sea.”

“So the Davy Jones ain’t in her locker then, huh? Gee, am I glad!”

“Sure, and she got back to the club, and the owner had somebody come right away to be seein’ what was wrong.”

“Did they find out?”

“That they did, kid. He’s got the police on the case, and I think they’ll be workin’ on me. But they ain’t got no evidence so they ain’t, and besides, I took all me powder and threw it in the inlet tonight, so I did.”

Skippy sat down at the table, his head in his hands.

“Gee, I was afraid something awful would come of it.”

“Now don’t ye be worryin’ too soon, kid. They’ll have to be goin’ some to get me.... You can be............