It was a few minutes past eleven when the sloop's engine stopped and she glided up to her mooring in Sprowl's Cove. Five sleepy boys tumbled into the dory and paddled ashore. The Fourth was over and the routine of workaday life would begin again for them early the next morning. Nemo dashed back and forth on the beach, barking a furious welcome and springing upon his masters indiscriminately. Unwittingly he leaped at Percy and in playful mood closed his teeth over the lad's right thumb, sprained and aching from the fight. "Get out, you cur!" exclaimed Whittington. He launched an aimless, vindictive kick in the general direction of the gamboling beast. As often happens with random blows, it went too true. Nemo ki-yied up the beach on three legs. "What are you about, Whittington?" burst out Lane, angrily. Among the entire five he was the fondest of the dog. Percy was ashamed and sorry that he had hurt the animal, but Lane's eruption of temper smothered his repentant feelings. "He bit my thumb," he muttered, sullenly. "You know well enough he was just in sport. Don't you kick him again! You hear me!" Percy mumbled an indistinct reply. As soon as the cabin was unlocked he turned into his bunk, without a word to anybody. For him the Fourth had been anything but a holiday. Before going to sleep, Spurling outlined their work for the morrow. "Throppy, you and I'll try our luck on Martingale Bank. It's only a half-mile northwest of the island, and sometimes you can get a big catch there. I've been saving it for a time like this. Budge, you and Percy ought to get at least a couple of hundred pounds out of those lobster-traps. They'll have been down two days and should yield some good-sized ones. Set the clock at four, Filippo! We'll be lazy for once." Percy's sleep was broken. He dreamed of being chased along the main street of Vinalhaven by a crowd of small boys shooting at him with Roman candles. He dodged into an open doorway, only to be driven out by a giant with Jabe's face and a half-dozen pairs of arms the fists of which were studded with a double allowance of knuckles. He was fast being pounded to a pulp when the alarm-clock went off. He woke in a cold sweat. Lying with closed eyes, he pretended to be asleep while Jim and Throppy finished a hasty breakfast. Soon the exhaust of the _Barracouta_ proclaimed that they were on their way to Martingale Bank. Percy dozed, but remained conscious of Filippo's culinary operations. At five Lane turned out, according to schedule. He shook Percy vigorously. "Wake up, Whittington! Breakfast!" "Don't care for mine yet." "Aren't you going out with me to haul those traps?" "No!" retorted Percy, sourly. "Suit yourself!" was Lane's brief response. Percy knew that Budge would rather go without him. He heard him give a whistle as he examined Nemo's leg; the animal cringed and whimpered. "Poor fellow! Too bad!" sympathized Lane.