Jack awoke with a start. He knew instinctively that some one had been gazing at him while he slept and his feeling was that of impending trouble. He sat up quickly and turned to find Ray’s eyes fastened upon him. The erstwhile swordfisherman was sitting up in bed, his back resting against the head board and his arms clasped about his knees.

“Hi you, Ray! Why, you startled the life out of me. What are you sitting there like a stone idol for, cheating an honest fellow out of his sleep, by staring at him with trouble in your eyes. How long have you been awake?”

“Who? Me?” asked Ray absently.

“Yes, you. Who did you think I meant? The bed post? Say, you’re worried, aren’t you? What’s sticking in your crop now? I’ll bet you’ve been sitting there half of the night. Hang it, Ray, what is the matter, anyway?” demanded Jack.

[165]

“Oh, nothing, I was just thinking, that’s all.”

“Thinking? About what? I’ll bet it was that blamed old model lifeboat of yours, wasn’t it?”

“Well, something like that,” said Ray with a sheepish grin.

“Now, I know you’re lying to me,” said Jack. “You weren’t thinking about the model at all or you wouldn’t have confessed so quickly. You were worrying about something else.”

“No, no, Jack, the model was in my mind—a little, anyway. Come on, let’s get up. I’ve been awake a long time, waiting for you to turn out. Mr. Williams has been up nearly an hour. I heard his wife call him for breakfast. Come on, get a wiggle on, for I think I smell some good old fried clams. Um-m-m, ah—just think how they’ll taste,” said Ray, smacking his lips as he hopped out of bed and began to pull on his trousers.

Jack tried to be equally agile, but when he bounded to the floor he let out a whoop of distress, for it seemed as if every muscle in his body had been stretched out of shape. He was sore from his violent exercise of the night before,[166] and there were bumps and bruises all over him, not to mention a puffed-up lip which felt about thrice its natural size.

“Jiminy, but I’m stiff,” he grunted as he sat down on the edge of the bed and began to pull on his stockings.

“I’m a little stiff myself,” confessed Ray, stretching his strong arms above his head. “I had a fracas last night with one of those Frenchmen too, only I didn’t have to use a piano stool. I just lammed him good with my right hand. Say, but you did lay old Salmon Jack out for fair. Did you notice how wobbly he was when they took him into the lockup last night? And did you see that long lanky fellow? Some one treated him mighty rough. He had two dandy shiners. I suppose they’ll all be brought before the Justice of the Peace to-day. If it wasn’t that Mr. Warner and the rest might be worrying over us, I’d like to stay.”

“I wonder what they’ll do with ’em?” said Jack, crossing the room to the little old-fashioned mirror on the wall and smoothing his rumpled hair with a white comb he had found on the highboy in the corner.

[167]

“Why, Mr. Williams said that they would probably be taken to the County Seat and kept there until the County Court meets next month. Then they will likely be sent to jail for three or four years or even longer. I guess they’re a bad lot and the warden’s glad to get ’em under lock and key.”

“Well, come on. Let’s get downstairs. I’m nearly famished, and besides Old Mitchell will be waiting for us. I suppose he’s wondering now whether we’re going to sleep all day or not. The mist seems to have thinned out a little, but the sky looks mighty lowery, doesn’t it?” said Jack.

“Yes, I guess we’re in for a spell o’ weather,” answered his companion.

Ray’s sense of smell had not deceived him. There were clams for breakfast, great stacks of them, and hot biscuits and a pitcher of honey and still another of cream. And there were doughnuts, too, and coffee, and best of all the smiling face of Mrs. Williams and the genial countenance of the warden himself. He was already seated at the table, a big napkin tucked under his double chin, and Mrs. Williams, who was as tiny as her husband was ponderous,[168] was heaping his plate with freshly fried clams.

“Good morning, boys,” she said with a smile, but before they could reply, the warden’s deep voice boomed out:

“Well, well, what do you fellers think this place is, one o’ those city houses that don’t wake up until nine o’clock? Jingonetties, why didn’t you sleep all day?”

“There, there, Will, don’t scold them. Poor lads, they’re tired. Here sit down in this comfortable chair. I’ll bring you some hot clams right away,” said Mrs. Williams, who was fond of pretending that her husband’s assumed gruffness frightened her when it really did not at all.

Those clams were truly wonderful. They fairly melted in Jack’s mouth and the honey and cream was the best he had ever tasted. Indeed, Jack could scarcely remember ever having enjoyed a breakfast quite so thoroughly as he did the one arranged by Mrs. Williams. And as for Ray, well, he said absolutely nothing at all, but the way he devoured the savory brown morsels that the good lady set before him was quite the best compliment he could have offered her. The boys had the appetites[169] of young sharks, and since Mr. Williams was as busy as they at the same occupation, there was very little conversation. But the unfortunate part of a good meal is that one finally reaches the point where he can eat no more. Jack and Ray reached this period disappointingly soon. They were forced to suspend activities for sheer lack of room.

“Oh, what a good breakfast,” said Ray, with a sigh as he wiped his mouth on his napkin. “Shucks, I’m sorry I can’t stow away any more.”

“So am I,” assured Jack as he let his belt out another hole.

“Well, now that you’ve got a full cargo, how about goin’ over to the lock-up and havin’ a look at our friends of last night?” asked Mr. Williams, finding his hat and coat.

“Well, no, I’m afraid we can’t, though we’d like to very much. You see, we’ve been away from Hood Island a day and a night and goodness knows what Mr. Warner thinks has happened to us. Then, besides, Old Mitchell is probably waiting for us. I think we’d better go right down to the wharf,” said Jack.

“I’d rather get aboard the Betsy Anne. I[170] think I’d feel better,” said Ray, and his words seemed to have a peculiar meaning.

“Well, all right, boys, go long. I’ll be over to Hood Island to see you before the Summer’s over,” said the warden as he shook hands and hurried out.

Jack and Ray lingered long enough to say good-by to Mrs. Williams and thank the little woman for her kindness. Then they fared forth into the old-fashioned street in which Mr. Williams lived. The residential section of the Pool was up a gentle slope from the bay and some distance from the business section where the fish markets and stalls were located.

This quarter of the community was quaintly aristocratic in appearance. The streets were lined with elms guarded by squared tree boxes and the houses were all surrounded by little lawns and flower gardens. In truth, the whole section had an atmosphere of the early Sixties, a fact which Jack remarked as the boys walked toward the waterfront.

But soon they passed on into the busy part of the town where merchants and fishermen were dickering and bargaining over the morning’s catch and where women with baskets on their[171] arms were marketing and shippers were trading for their daily consignments for Boston or New York.

The little community seemed to Jack to be very lively and wide awake for a place of its size and he watched with eager interest the crowds of men who tramped up and down the narrow streets, their big sea boots making a tremendous thumping noise on the board sidewalks.

And presently as he was watching, there moved into his line of vision on the opposite side of the thoroughfare a ponderous man who was clad in a pea jacket, blue cap and heavy boots. His face was dark and weather-beaten and he wore a black beard which helped to give him a very stern appearance. Jack knew that he had seen him before and he groped about in his mind for a name to fit his countenance.

“Who is he?” he mused. “Where did I see him before? Where—”

“Say, Ray,” he said aloud, “who is that big man with a beard over there? See he’s looking this way now—why—why— What’s the matter, Ray?”

[172]

Ray had looked, at Jack’s request, and the moment he set eyes upon the big man his face paled and he became thoroughly frightened.

“Jack, that’s Uncle Vance,” he said in a husky whisper. “I wonder if he saw us. I was almost certain that was his yawl that nearly ran us down last night. That’s what I was worrying about this morning. Come on, let’s— Oh, Jack, he’s recognized me! Here he comes! Run! Run! Please run!”

Jack gave one glance across the street again and saw the bearded giant headed for them at top speed and the look on his face was enough to make the boys run, whether they wanted to or not. Like a flash Jack turned, but Ray had already bolted and was twenty feet away and running like the wind. Up the center of the crowded street went the chase, Ray in the lead and Jack right at his heels, with the big man in full cry not thirty feet behind.

Ray dodged into the first cross street he came to and this being comparatively free of pedestrians he let out a burst of speed that astonished the young Vermonter, who was no slow runner himself. The lad from Drueryville had hard[173] work to keep up with his chum, and as he raced along at Ray’s heels he could not help but picture how Ray would look in moleskins with a football tucked under one arm, going across a gridiron at such a pace.

But he had no time to conjure up such pictures, for presently Ray dodged around another corner into a street that ran parallel to the main street and led toward the wharves. Jack risked a glance backward at this point and saw that while they had not shaken the uncle off their tracks they were outdistancing him fast.

“Hit it up faster and dodge once more, Ray, and we’ll shake him,” he panted to the young swordfisherman. And hit it up Ray did until Jack’s legs fairly ached with the pace. Down to the docks ran the boys, upsetting a clam digger with a basket on his head, and leaving chaos and a crowd of angry looking natives in their wake.

But in a moment the lads reached the long dock at the end of which the Betsy Anne was moored. At a distance they could see Old Mitchell standing on the very end of the wharf, looking in their direction. And when he saw[174] the boys racing down the pier at full speed his eyes grew round with wonder.

Ray could not stop to explain, however:

“Quick, Mitchell, quick! Get us aboard the Betsy Anne and get her out among the fishing boats so he can’t find us. Oh, please, please hurry.”

“’Urry, is hit? ’Urry, wit blow me, hif I thought you lads wuz hin a ’urry, seeings ’ow I been a-waitin’ fer a ’our.”

“Yes, yes, but we are in a hurry,” insisted Jack as he followed Ray down the ladder and into the cockpit of the Betsy Anne.

“So are I,” said Mitchell, and after casting off the mooring he scrambled down on one foot. “So are I, fer I likes t’ go hout on t’ tide, I does.”

Just where or when Ray’s uncle had given up the chase the boys could not tell, but in spite of the wide trail of angry men and women, and overturned carts the boys had left along the water front, Vance Carroll had evidently lost them. Leastwise, he did not put in his appearance upon the long dock while the Betsy Anne was getting under way, for which Ray and Jack were truly thankful.

[175]

In ten minutes the little sloop, with Captain Eli’s green dory still trailing on behind, was scudding out toward the open sea, dodging through the fleet of fishing boats and walking away from every craft that tried to keep pace with her. And when the boys had finally regained their breath and were a little more at ease, they related to the old lobsterman their triumph in shaking the man whom Ray feared so much.

But this triumph was short-lived, for even while they were telling their story Ray paused and shaded his eyes with his hands; for back there, far across the harbor, he had caught sight of the swordfisherman’s yawl.

“Mr. Mitchell, have you got a glass? There’s his boat over yonder and I do believe they’re making sail on her. Say, do you suppose he’s found out that we are on the Betsy Anne and is getting ready to chase us? If he is, we’re lost, for the Fish Hawk can overhaul anything that carries sail, seems to me.”

“Huh, don’t be s’ sure o’ that, me ’arty,” said Old Mitchell indignantly. “T’ Betsy Hanne kin shake a leg ’erself. Which be t’[176] yawl ye want t’ know about. That one ower there; way, way ower ’bout a mile?”

“Yes, that’s it, over there in a line with that church steeple on shore. She’s—”

“Blow me hif she ain’t makin’ sail,” exclaimed Mitchell.

“Good night, Jack!” said Ray with a startled look. “Then it’s all up with me.”

“Hup, say ye, hall hup. Huh, blime ’e hif t’ hole Betsy Hanne can’t make ’Ood Hisland afore that air wessel, seein’ as ’ow we got a mile start wi’ them, blime ’e I’ll sink ’er, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Can you beat her, Mr. Mitchell? Can you?” asked Ray almost tearfully, putting his hand on............