Smiling to himself at the odd conceit of the Sheriff, whose regretful devotion to duty was indubitably sincere, Hardrock left the cover of the trees and returned to his clearing. He was just in time to see the launch which they had observed come circling around the point and head in. To his astonishment, he saw the figure of Nelly Callahan standing in the bow, while another figure aft was tending the engine. The girl waved to him eagerly, while her companion, a young fellow no more than a boy, shut off the engine and let the boat run in until her nose touched the sand. By the flush of excitement in the girl’s face, Hardrock guessed that she carried news of some kind. She jumped ashore, then turned and waved her hand at the boy. “Hardrock, this is Tom Boyle Gallagher’s boy Micky--Vesty Gallagher was sending him over to find you, so I came along to bring the message myself. I knew more about it than Vesty did, anyway, because I heard Hughie Dunlevy talking to Father last night--” “All right,” cut in Hardrock. “Wait just a minute, will you? Come ashore, Micky. Got any gasoline aboard?” “Ten gallon in the tank still,” said the boy, grinning. “Know anything about engines?” “He knows all about ’em,” broke in the girl. “Why?” “I have a launch down the shore that I’d like to have him look over. She’s down by that clump of sumach, Micky, drawn up. See if you can find the trouble, will you? We may have to put her into the water.” “Sure,” and Micky started off. Hardrock turned to the girl, smiling. “Excuse me for the interruption, but I had a bit of news too, and didn’t want him to overhear. Now come and sit down and tell me what’s on your mind.” They sat down together on a fallen log at the edge of the clearing, and Hardrock got his pipe alight. “Two things,” said the girl, “or maybe three,” and she laughed. “First, Hughie and some of his friends are coming over here tonight. I heard him tell Father they meant to drive you away, and send you back to Arizona.” Hardrock, thinking of the Sheriff among the trees, broke into a hearty laugh. “Go on,” he said after a minute. “Go on! What next?” “Isn’t that enough? Vesty got wind of it, and sent Micky off to warn you. There’s no telling what they’ll do, really--and it’s nothing to laugh about!” “It will be, I promise you,” and Hardrock chuckled. “Not for them to laugh about, though. Don’t mention it to anyone, for he doesn’t want it known--but Sheriff Fulsom is over there in the trees now. It’s his launch that is down the shore. I picked him up last night--he was drifting up the channel, disabled and out of gas. He and I are working on this business, and we’ve already proved my ideas right by finding that fish-trap and a case of whisky with it. There are other cases at the same spot, probably.” She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Oh, good!” she exclaimed. “And I don’t forget that I owe the tip to you, either,” he went on. “Well, what next?”