There was moist pity in her eyes, yet they gleamed with excitement at the thought of this battle of the Titans for her sake. "I will go to him," she said after a moment, "and tell him that you mean nothing to me. Then he will stop." The cold, incurious eyes studied her without passion, and once more he smiled. "He'll not stop. Whether you like me or not, Kate, doesn't count. One of us'll go down, an' you'll be for the one that's left. He knows it--I know it." "Harrigan!" called the voice of McTee from the bridge, and the tall Scotchman lifted his cap to Kate. "I'm the slave," said Harrigan, "and there's the whip. Good-by." She stamped her foot with an almost childish fury, saying: "Someday he shall regret this brutal tyranny. Good-by, Dan, and good luck!" She took his hand in both of hers, but her eyes held spitefully upon the bridge, as if she hoped that McTee would witness the handshake; the captain, however, had turned his back upon them. Dan muttered to himself as he climbed the bridge: "Did she do that to anger McTee or to please me?" And the thought so occupied his mind that he paid no attention to the Scotchman when he reached the bridge. He merely dropped to his knees and commenced scrubbing. McTee, in the meanwhile, loitered about the bridge as if on his own ship. In due time Harrigan drew near, the suds swishing under his brush. The Irishman, remembering suddenly, commenced to hum a tune. "The old grind, eh, Harrigan?" said McTee. The Irishman, humming idly still, looked up, calmly surveyed the captain, and then went on as if he had heard merely empty wind instead of words. "After the scrubbing brush the shovel," went on McTee, but still Harrigan paid no attention. He rose when his task was completed and made his eyes gentle as if with pity while he gazed upon McTee. "I'm sorry for you, McTee; you've made a hard fight; it's strange you've got no ghost of a chance of winnin'." "What d'you mean?" "Couldn't you hear her when she talked to me?" "I could not." "Couldn't you see her face? It was written there as plain as print." McTee cleared his throat. "What was written there?" "The thing you want to see. When she took my hand in both of hers--" "Hell!" "Ah-h, man, it was wonderful! The scrubbing brush an' the shovel--they mean nothin' to me now." "Harrigan, you're lying." The latter dropped his scrubbing brush into the bucket of suds and stood with arms akimbo studying the captain. "For a smart man, McTee, you've been a fool. I could of gone down on me knees an' begged to do what you've done. Don't you see? You've thrown her with her will or against it into me arms. I'm poor Harrigan, brave and downtrodden; you're Black McTee once more, the tyrant. She looks sick at the mention of your name." "I never dreamed you'd go whining to her. I thought you were a man; you're only a spineless dog, Harrigan!"