"They've done what damage they've dared and they're gone for good. They'll be up at Isle au Haut to-night, either in Head Harbor or Kimball's Island Thoroughfare. Forget 'em!" "Lucky my temper isn't hitched up with your strength," said Lane. IX FISTS AND FIREWORKS Late on the afternoon of July 3d, when the morning's catch of eighteen hundred pounds of hake had been split and salted, Spurling called a council of war. Percy attended with the others. He had gone out with Budge in the morning to haul the lobster-traps; the rest of the day he had loafed, lying on the soft turf below the beacon on Brimstone Point and reading _The Three Musketeers_. Of the work that pleased him he had determined to do only as much as he liked, and not a stroke more. Lobstering was really attractive; there was enough novelty and excitement about it to keep him interested. When a pot came up it might contain no shell-fish or a half-dozen; the element of uncertainty appealed to his sporting instincts. But fishing he had stricken utterly from his list. It was too hard and too dirty. Slogging at the heavy trawls and afterward dressing the catch was too plebeian a business for the son of a millionaire. So he let the others tire their muscles and soil their hands and clothing while he attended strictly to the business of pleasing himself. He could not help being aware of a growing coolness on the part of his associates, but it gave him no concern. His month of probation was almost up, and he had decided that, come what might, he would leave at its end. Only a few days more, and this hard, monotonous island life would be behind him forever. He would send back a check to cover the expense of his board, and that would permanently close his relations with Spurling & Company. This resolve to pay for meals and lodging gave him a feeling of independence. Hence, though he knew the others did not care whether he attended or not, he felt himself entitled to a place at the council. The meeting took place on the beach in front of the cabin. Spurling and Stevens had just come from the _Barracouta_, their oilskin "petticoats" bearing gory evidence of their work for the last two hours. "Fellows," proposed Jim, "to-morrow let's celebrate! We can't set the trawls, for we haven't anything to bait up with. And even if we had, I don't believe in working on the Fourth. When I was at Matinicus the other day I saw a poster advertising a ball-game and big celebration at Vinalhaven. We'll have an early breakfast and run up there in the _Barracouta_. First, we'll go to Hardy's weir and take in a lot of herring for bait. Then we can slip round to Carver's Harbor and spend the rest of the day ashore. What d'you say?" There was no doubt regarding the vote. "The ayes have it!" shouted Spurling. "Now let's get everything in trim for day after to-morrow! We won't pull the traps again until then."