“You’re a pretty couple of sneaks to come along, two to one, and pitch into a fellow who treated you as if you were decent human beings, and then steal everything he has, and leave him alone to starve or,”--he was going to add, “or freeze to death,” but remembering that this would not be possible in that climate, he said,--“or perish in any way he thought best. You didn’t care what became of him. I’m not going to tell you the trouble you caused the rest of the party, but if ever two wild beasts deserve to be shot, you do.” Chap’s face now glowed with such righteous indignation that one of the young men piteously begged him not to point that cocked gun at them, for it might go off. “Go off!” cried Chap, without moving the weapon. “It would serve you right if it did go off, and put an end to your lives of crime. Such creatures as you are not needed in this world any more than snakes or alligators.” This last word seemed to instinctively affect one of the men, who, turning his eyes riverward, saw, or thought he saw, something dark moving along in the deep water beyond. Seized by a new fear, he raised himself and made a step toward shore. Without a second’s hesitation Chap pointed his gun a few feet above the fellow’s head and fired; and at the instant of the report both heads disappeared beneath the surface of the water. The sound of Chap’s voice, when he was haranguing the two men in the water, aroused the occupants of the other boat, and Phil, Phœnix, and Adam were soon popping up their heads to see what Chap was about. “Hello!” cried Phœnix, “he is on a boat over there talking like wildfire.” “I believe he is preaching to a pair of turtles!” cried Phil. “Look here,” said Adam, with alarm in his countenance, “there’s something up. Slip on some clothes, and let’s get over there. That’s the Maggie, and he’s got them two fellers in the water.” “What on earth does it mean?” asked Phil. “Haven’t the least idea,” said Adam, “but we must----” At this moment the report of Chap’s gun rung through the air, and Adam and the two boys, barefooted and partially dressed, did not wait for another instant, but sprang from the boat and ran for the scene of commotion. The wind had gradually blown the Maggie landward, and she was now grounded in very shallow water. Chap still stood upon the stern, with his gun pointed to the two men, who, having held their heads under water until their faces were nearly black with suffocation, had now raised themselves, and were begging piteously that Chap would put down that gun and let them out. But the relentless Chap was just beginning a fresh series of denunciations, when Adam sprang on board of the Maggie, and, seizing his arm, threw up the muzzle of the gun. “What on earth are you about?” cried the astonished sailor. “Are you goin’ to kill ’em?” “No,” said Chap, coolly; “I haven’t any idea of killing them. I only wanted to soak some of the wickedness out of them.”