“Morning,” said a voice, and he looked up to see a gnarled, red-whiskered man surveying him with an air of appraisal. “Your name aint Callahan, by any chance?” “Callahan it is. Otherwise, Hardrock.” “Good. I been lookin’ for ye,” said the other. “I’m Vesty Gallagher, Danny’s dad. Let’s you and me go somewheres, and go quick. Come on over to Dunlevy’s shed. Good thing I seen ye, Hardrock--blamed good thing! Come on.” CHAPTER IV In the heavy, dank quiet of the shed where the big nets hung, Hardrock sat smoking his pipe. His brain listened mechanically to the words of Vesty Gallagher; yet other sounds were borne in upon him; the rattle of ice from the wharf, the slam of fish-boxes tossed about, the eternal creaking of the great net-frames as they swung and swung endlessly in the breeze and groaned futile protest. “By luck I come to town last night for freight, and remained over,” said Vesty, “and by luck I seen you this morning and knew ye for a stranger. I said a word or two last night, when there was talk about your scrap wi’ Connie Dunlevy, after the two boys was brought in. Some said you had done it, d’ye see? Nobody knows what’s happened out there in the fog and rain, but there’s plenty that intend to know. Eleven families o’ Bassets there are on the island, and Marty Biddy dead today. Not to mention Owen John, wi’ two bullets through him and the fever bad on him, and he’ll go over to the Charlevoix hospital on the mailboat. By luck my boy Danny had been writin’ me, and I was looking for ye.” Hardrock nodded and turned to the gnarled man beside him. “It was more than luck that I met you this morning,” he said quietly. “You don’t know just how bad things look for me. Here’s what happened.” He told what had taken place the preceding day, omitting no detail. “They were not close enough for the shotgun to do much damage,” he concluded. “Where those bullets came from, I can’t pretend to guess.” Vesty Gallagher bit his pipestem thoughtfully, watching Hardrock from screwed-up, sharp little eyes. “You’re straight,” he said suddenly. “I’m with ye. So that’s settled. Now hark ye here, me lad! I’ll have a word wi’ the priest, and he’ll have a word wi’ the boys, and they’ll go slow. But if I was you, I’d come down to the sawmill with me and spend a while there.” Hardrock smiled. “Thanks, Vesty, but I can’t do it. Surely there must be some way of telling who shot those two fellows?” “There’s many would ha’ liked to do it,” said old Gallagher. “The two of them was a bad lot--them and the Dunlevy boys hung together. Ye’ll have trouble there. Connie Dunlevy and Hughie will guess that ye had a hand in the shootin’, and they’ll go for ye. Better ye come down home with me, lad.” “Can’t. Promised Matt Callahan I’d come back to Hog Island and settle matters with him.” The gray eyes of Hardrock twinkled. “I said I’d put him off my land if he wasn’t reasonable, and I’ll do it.”