“And it is mine too, Mr. Flagg,” said Tempest. “If I had a gun I shouldn’t feel inclined to be so amiable about it, either. However, I’ll make you a sporting offer, to save further unpleasantness. You’ve been very good to us at your home, even if you did finish up with a sneaking trick by trying to steal a march on us. Look here, I’ll agree to give you a third of anything we may find.” “Nothing doing,” replied Flagg without a moment’s hesitation. He was perfectly aware that he held the trump card in his hand, and moreover he was not in the mood to accept anything less than the lot. “Now be reasonable,” Tempest urged. “We may have an awful lot of trouble before we get it, anyway, even if we ever do get it, and so we might just as well be friends instead of enemies. Because you don’t think we’re going to slip away quietly and leave you in possession of the field, do you?” “I neither know nor care. Clear out.” “But I told you we were not going to clear out.” “That’s up to you,” said Flagg in level tones. “I’m tired of this. If you like getting shot that’s your own affair.” Without further warning he pulled the trigger again, and a splinter jumped into the air from the gunwale of the _Nautilus_. “You murderous old crook,” shouted Dave. “That’s nothing. I’m only finding the range,” Flagg said with a mirthless laugh, as the rifle spoke once more. “It’s no use committing suicide,” muttered Tempest, swinging the boat round. “Good afternoon, Mr. Flagg. I hope you will take great care of your health until I see you again. I’m afraid you’re not exactly in training, so I shall anticipate the pleasure of giving you the biggest walloping you ever had when I wade into you.” Flagg’s reply, as the _Nautilus_ began to gather speed, was another shot which ricochetted past. “All right,” Tempest shouted back over his shoulder. “You’re only storing up trouble for yourself.” “Isn’t he a nice, kind-hearted gentleman?” commented Dave. “Let’s try to land somewhere on the other side of the island.” “We can try,” said Tempest, “but to tell you the truth I don’t think we shall stand a dog’s chance. That brute doesn’t mean to stop at anything. I believe he would polish the lot of us off without the slightest scruple. There was nothing playful about the way he handled that gun of his, you must remember. And I do hate being shot on a Tuesday. This is Tuesday, isn’t it? The blooming island is so small that he can dodge round as fast as we can. However, we’ll fool him if we can. Here goes.” Tempest ran the boat straight out to sea until the sun dipped under the horizon. It was far from dark, for the stars were aggravatingly bright, and a full moon was soon due to appear on the scene. “It’s a chance,” Tempest said, as he headed once more for Tai-o-Vai, “but an extremely rotten chance. We’ll see what we can do at the back of the island now. I doubt whether we could land there anyhow because of the surf.”