Jim Spurling, Fisherman: or Making GoodTolman, Albert Walter
General
Jim Spurling, Fisherman: or Making Good
Tolman, Albert Walter
Fisheries -- Juvenile fiction; Maine -- Juvenile fiction
The boys' eyes followed his pointing finger. Not far offshore were the
vague outlines of a schooner.
"All black!" said Jim. "Not a light of any sort! That looks bad. Besides
being against the law, it shows there's some reason why they don't want
to be recognized. I don't know what kind of scalawags we're up against,
but we've got to be mighty careful."
Percy felt a strange sinking at the pit of his stomach. To be plunged
into an encounter with a gang of unknown ruffians on his first night
offshore was more than he had bargained for. For a minute Jim stood
thinking.
"I'm almost sorry we didn't take that shot-gun!" he muttered. "No, I'm
not, either! We might be tempted to use it, and that'd be worse than
losing every sheep on the island. Hold on! I've got an idea."
The boys gathered closely round him.
"Listen!" he whispered. "Budge and I will go ahead through the woods to
the pasture. You three follow close behind. If there's any shooting,
throw yourselves flat. No use taking chances with such fellows as
those!"
Crouching low, sometimes actually creeping, the party, Jim and Lane in
the lead, made their way under the close boughs toward the open.
Suddenly Jim sank to the ground. Warned by his whisper, the others did
the same.
Footsteps were approaching. Then voices in heated argument reached their
ears.
"Aw, come on, Cap!" expostulated one unseen speaker. "What's the use
chasin' round over this pasture all night? Here we've wasted an hour
already. I've fired away all my cartridges, and we haven't nailed a
single bleater. We've got 'em so wild we can't sneak up within half a
mile of 'em. Let's quit it for a bad job, go aboard, and turn in!"
"Cut it out, Dolph!" impatiently retorted another voice. "You've got a
backbone like a rope! Guess if you were footing the grub bill aboard the
_Silicon_ you wouldn't be so fussy about being broken of your beauty
sleep. I've paid out all the good dollars for stores that I intend to on
this trip. You know we've plenty of ice aboard, and a couple of these
sheep'll furnish enough fresh meat to last us to the Bay of Fundy and
back. That ought to hit you in a tender spot. You're always the first
man down at the table and the last to leave it."
"You needn't twit me on my appetite, Bart Brittler!" exclaimed the
other, angrily. "If you weren't so stingy with the grub on board your
old catamaran I wouldn't be hungry all the time. A man who makes as much
money as you do, runnin' in--"
"Stop right there! You know there's some things that were never to be
mentioned."
"What's the harm? There's nobody within miles!"
"That may be. But we can't be too careful in our business. Now what
about the sheep?"
"I'll stop here half an hour longer. Then I'm goin' aboard."
"Well, I'll tell you what we'll do. You hide in the edge of the woods,
and I'll make a circuit and drive 'em down to you. Here, take these
cartridges and my revolver! That'll give you two to work with. You'll
have to shoot quick when they come."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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