“Oh, him! He’s a Sheriff, takin’ chances. Same with you--depity, aint ye? Yep. He aint killed, though. He’ll drift over in the channel and’ll get picked up by a barge. We’ll run ye out to Gull Island and leave ye there with some grub. That’s decent all around. A fight is one thing, and killin’ is another thing. I been running booze a year now, and never had a speck o’ trouble before this. Durn them hot-headed Greeks! They’ve spoiled the best little game this side the Soo.” “You’re sure frank about it,” said Hardrock dryly.” “Why not? I want you should understand it; I aint anxious to be follered up for a killin’ I didn’t do! Bad enough to have my business busted up. Now I got to land this cargo and then go somewheres else. Dog-gone it! I hope they pass them immygration laws an’ do it quick. A feller can’t make an honest livin’ no more, the way these durned foreigners are everywhere.” Hardrock broke out laughing. Marks surveyed him darkly. “Ye may think it’s funny, but I don’t. It aint the law so much, neither. It’s these durned islanders! They’re all over the lakes, them or their relations. If they take the notion it was me responsible for the killin’, they’ll drive me off the lakes, that’s what.” The man’s viewpoint was irresistible, and Hardrock laughed the harder, while Marks sucked at his cigarette and glowered angrily. Then came the “chug-chug” of a gas engine, and a low call from the darkness. Slowly the shape of the green fishboat drifted in upon the shore and then halted as her bows hit the shallows ten feet from the beach. “They had to swim to get her, anyhow!” exclaimed Marks. “The durned fools needed a bath.” He rose and went past Hardrock to the shore. “Hey, boys! Toss that anchor ashore so’s she wont drift off. We’ll get away pretty quick, now.” Hardrock moved his arm, and the little blade of the penknife flashed in the firelight as he slashed the bonds about his ankles. He was free, now--but he must let them all get ashore. His only chance, against the three of them, was to get their boat and leave them here. It was a time for strategy, rather than for fighting; so, at least, he thought. He was to discover his mistake very shortly. The two Greeks came ashore, bearing a line. It appeared that they had cut loose the anchor rather than haul it in. There ensued a furious storm of oaths from Marks; the two men became ugly, and for a moment it looked as though a row were imminent. Then Marks cooled down, and told them to get some of the supplies from Hardrock’s tent aboard the boat. All three passed up to the tent, none of them observing that the captive was no longer bound. * * * * * This was the opportunity Hardrock had been praying for, and he gathered his muscles. Once he could shove out that boat and scramble aboard her, he had everything in his own hands! He drew up his feet, saw that the three men were busily engaged with his supplies, and rose--