"Boys," he concluded, "what do you say to asking him to come down with us to Tarpaulin? I believe he's a clean, straight little fellow, and he can more than make up for his board by cooking and doing odd jobs. We can afford to pay him something to boot." Before either Budge or Throppy had a chance to express an opinion Percy spoke out decidedly: "Take that little Dago with us? I say no. You can't trust his kind. I know 'em. They're a thieving, treacherous lot, smooth to your face, but ready to stab you the minute your back's turned. I'll bet you a five-dollar bill he's got a knife hid somewhere about him. He might take a notion some night to cut all our throats." "Whittington," said Spurling, bluntly, "under the circumstances it might be better taste for you not to speak until you've heard from the rest of us. My throat's worth just as much to me as yours is to you, and I don't feel I'd be running any great risk by inviting that boy to come along with us." Lane and Stevens agreed. "It's three against one, Whittington," said Jim. He walked over to the Italian and said a few words to him. The lad's face lighted up with gratitude. Impulsively he bent and kissed Spurling's hand. Jim flushed with embarrassment as he and the stranger came back to the others. "He'll be glad to go with us, fellows. Now let's get a move on and hustle this stuff aboard. We want to be settled at Tarpaulin before dark." Soon all their goods were on the sloop. The dory was made fast to her stern and the pea-pod's painter tied to the dory. The expedition was ready to start. On board the _Barracouta_ Lane and Stevens, standing side by side, faced Jim and brought their palms to their foreheads. "Attention!" ordered Lane. "Spurling & Company! Salute!" Jim returned the compliment with a sweep of his hand. He threw on the switch and rocked the wheel; the engine started--click-click-click.... Gathering headway, the _Barracouta_ nosed south, dory and pea-pod trailing behind her. Before them lay an archipelago of granite islands. "This is an old stamping-ground of mine," said Jim. "I've fished and lobstered round here so much that I know every rock and shoal for miles. That's Crotch Island on our west, with the derricks and quarries; they've taken no end of granite off it." He held up his hand. "Breezing up from the southwest. That'd be dead ahead if we went west of Isle au Haut as I'd planned. Guess we'll go east of it; then we can use our canvas to help us along. Steer for me, Budge, while I get sail on her!" Soon outer jib, jumbo and mainsail were set and trimmed close, and Spurling again took the helm. The _Barracouta_ ran southeast through Merchant's Row, a procession of rugged islets slipping by on either side; then south past Fog and York islands, with the long, high ridge of Isle au Haut walling the western horizon; down between Great Spoon and Little Spoon, past White Horse and Black Horse, toward the heaving blue of the open ocean.