"I'll tell you what you mean!" DuChane said heatedly. "You've got your eyes on this dame, same as you've had 'em on Sally. Anything that looks like competition gets your nanny. Well, Marlin, I'm serving notice that where women are concerned I do my own picking. The other man's claim-stakes mean nothing to me." "That's the talk!" approved McGruder. "What the hell! There's enough to go around, not countin' old Eli, and we don't know what's gonna happen tomorrow. I got my eye on that little--" "Shut up!" blazed Marlin. He eyed the ex-detective with burning distaste. He could have reminded them that he was in a position to enforce his edicts, being in possession of the only weapon. They knew this, however, and it was already a source of mounting antagonism. What had caused him to bristle at signs of interest toward the feminine portion of the party? It wasn't that he wanted any of them for himself, though he sensed a challenge in Sally's eyes and acknowledged that she was desirable in her way. Norma, too, gave promise of becoming attractive as she regained her vitality. But his attitude was inspired by something deeper. Perhaps it was an instinctive prescience that man-woman rivalry would inevitably bring trouble. This and a very special feeling that Pearl must be protected in her childlike innocence. The covetous looks with which McGruder regarded her were unmistakable. The very thought of them rankled in Marlin like a sacrilege. Maw Barstow was an efficient watchdog, but the shady detective would stop at nothing he thought he could get away with. From this time, DuChane mockingly defied Marlin's half-expressed edict, by ostentatiously "making a play" for both Sally and Norma. His eyes taunted Marlin to do something about it. And Marlin, knowing that he had no reasonable excuse for interfering, could only chafe inwardly and pretend to have no interest in the matter. The result was that he withdrew more and more into himself, holding aloof from the others, becoming increasingly morose and distant. CHAPTER X Seemingly least imaginative of them all, it was odd that Link should be the first to crack under the strain. From the time of the disclosure that their hull was slowly corroding under the chemical action of the clay, he had appeared frightened and morose. Once or twice, as Marlin approached him on isolated portions of the superstructure, he slunk away in a peculiar manner. One day--for they still called their alternation of sleeping and waking periods a "day"--he failed to show up for meals. When he did not appear the second day, the group aroused from its apathetic indifference sufficiently to institute a search. He was crouching behind some packing boxes in the store room, and fled with wild shrieks on being discovered. He managed to hide himself again, and the search was dropped. Some hours later they discovered him furtively clamboring among the girders overhead.