He held in for the strip of shore before Matt Big Mary’s camp, and perceived that the updrawn boat was gone. As his canoe scraped on the sand and he leaped ashore, Nelly Callahan appeared and waved her hand. “Welcome back! Have you come for more coffee?” “That and other things,” responded Hardrock cheerfully, holding up the whitefish. “Anybody around?” “They’ve all gone to finish pulling stakes and wont be back until late,” said the girl. “Did you have any trouble in town?” “No. I met Vesty Gallagher, and we had quite a talk. Got any nails around here? If you have, let’s get this fish on a slab and we can discuss the weather while it’s browning.” Searching the shore, he presently espied a slab of mill wood, nailed the opened fish to it, spilled plenty of seasoning over the firm white flesh, and got the slab in position beside the fire. Then he sat down and lighted his pipe and looked at Nelly Callahan, who sat on the end of a log and darned a thick stocking; and presently he told her all that he had learned this morning in St. James. * * * * * For a moment her face flashed white, and in the depths of her widened gaze he read alarm and swift fear and wild surmise. Then she was herself again, cool and steady, her blue eyes searching into him with unconcealed tenseness of interest, and only her breath coming a little swifter to denote the startled heart that was in her. “It seems impossible!” she murmured. “Oh! And when everyone learns of how you used your shotgun on them--” “Steady! Nobody knows that except you and Vesty,” said Hardrock. “Who’d believe me? They’d say I had a pistol or rifle and dropped it overboard after shooting the two men. And how do you know I hadn’t, Nelly? How do you know I’m not lying?” She looked at him steadily for a moment, meeting his gaze squarely. Then: “How did Vesty know it?” she said, and smiled a little. “Don’t be silly. Did you see any other boat around, except theirs?” Hardrock shook his head. “No, but that means nothing. I couldn’t see far for the rain, and I was intent on them--they’d been following me, you know. If there’s any clue to be gained, it’s from you.” “From me? How?” “The shots. You said you had heard shooting. Now, I let off both barrels of my shotgun, no more. I did think that I heard shots after that, but my sinking boat was making such a racket--the exhaust pipe was smashed when they ran me down--and I was so infernally busy handling that canoe, that I didn’t notice them. You did. How many were there? You’d notice the difference between the bang of my shotgun and the crack of rifles, too.” The girl nodded, and lifting her eyes, stared out toward the blue mass of Garden Island on the horizon.