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Jim Spurling, Fisherman Part 8

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"There's their boat!" whispered Jim. "They're still on the island."

_Spang!_

Another report from the pasture beyond the evergreens echoed emphatic confirmation to his statement. Jim took two steps toward the sound, then stopped.

"Not yet! I know a better way. Stay here and keep watch."

He scrambled down to the beach. There was a slight grating of gravel, and presently the boat was afloat. Noiselessly, under Spurling's skilful sculling, it slipped out of the cove and vanished behind the ledges to the east. Before long Jim was back with his companions.



"I've made their dory fast in a little gulch among the rockweed," said he. "They'd have a hard time to find it unless somebody told 'em where it is. They can't get away without having a reckoning with us."

_Spang-spang-spang!_

Three reports in quick succession. Jim laughed.

"Wasting a lot of cartridges! Must want that mutton pretty bad! Either they're awful poor shots or they've made the sheep so wild they can't get anywhere near 'em. There's their vessel!"

The boys' eyes followed his pointing finger. Not far offsh.o.r.e were the vague outlines of a schooner.

"All black!" said Jim. "Not a light of any sort! That looks bad. Besides being against the law, it shows there's some reason why they don't want to be recognized. I don't know what kind of scalawags we're up against, but we've got to be mighty careful."

Percy felt a strange sinking at the pit of his stomach. To be plunged into an encounter with a gang of unknown ruffians on his first night offsh.o.r.e was more than he had bargained for. For a minute Jim stood thinking.

"I'm almost sorry we didn't take that shot-gun!" he muttered. "No, I'm not, either! We might be tempted to use it, and that'd be worse than losing every sheep on the island. Hold on! I've got an idea."

The boys gathered closely round him.

"Listen!" he whispered. "Budge and I will go ahead through the woods to the pasture. You three follow close behind. If there's any shooting, throw yourselves flat. No use taking chances with such fellows as those!"

Crouching low, sometimes actually creeping, the party, Jim and Lane in the lead, made their way under the close boughs toward the open.

Suddenly Jim sank to the ground. Warned by his whisper, the others did the same.

Footsteps were approaching. Then voices in heated argument reached their ears.

"Aw, come on, Cap!" expostulated one unseen speaker. "What's the use chasin' round over this pasture all night? Here we've wasted an hour already. I've fired away all my cartridges, and we haven't nailed a single bleater. We've got 'em so wild we can't sneak up within half a mile of 'em. Let's quit it for a bad job, go aboard, and turn in!"

"Cut it out, Dolph!" impatiently retorted another voice. "You've got a backbone like a rope! Guess if you were footing the grub bill aboard the _Silicon_ you wouldn't be so fussy about being broken of your beauty sleep. I've paid out all the good dollars for stores that I intend to on this trip. You know we've plenty of ice aboard, and a couple of these sheep'll furnish enough fresh meat to last us to the Bay of Fundy and back. That ought to hit you in a tender spot. You're always the first man down at the table and the last to leave it."

"You needn't twit me on my appet.i.te, Bart Brittler!" exclaimed the other, angrily. "If you weren't so stingy with the grub on board your old catamaran I wouldn't be hungry all the time. A man who makes as much money as you do, runnin' in--"

"Stop right there! You know there's some things that were never to be mentioned."

"What's the harm? There's n.o.body within miles!"

"That may be. But we can't be too careful in our business. Now what about the sheep?"

"I'll stop here half an hour longer. Then I'm goin' aboard."

"Well, I'll tell you what we'll do. You hide in the edge of the woods, and I'll make a circuit and drive 'em down to you. Here, take these cartridges and my revolver! That'll give you two to work with. You'll have to shoot quick when they come."

There was a sound of breaking branches. The boys flattened themselves on the carpet of needles as a man's body crashed toward them through the underbrush.

"All right!" announced Dolph. "I've found a good place, close to a sheep-path. Now drive down your mutton, and I'll butcher it as it goes by. Will two be enough?"

"Sure! And that's two more than I'm afraid you'll get, unless you shoot straighter than we've done so far to-night. It may be twenty minutes before they come, for I'm going to make a wide circle to the west, so as to get behind 'em."

The captain's footsteps died hollowly away on the turf and Dolph settled himself comfortably in his chosen ambush, almost within reach of Jim's hand. Five minutes of silence pa.s.sed. Jim was debating what he should do. Budge lay close to him, and not far back were Throppy, Percy, and Filippo, hardly daring to breathe. Circ.u.mstances had placed one of the marauders so nearly within their grasp that a sudden, well-planned attack could hardly fail to make him their prisoner. But there must be no bungling. A man with two loaded revolvers, and desperate from panic, would be a dangerous customer unless he were overpowered at once.

It would not do to let too much time go by. Brittler would soon be returning, driving the sheep ahead of him; then they would have two lawless men to contend with, instead of one, unless they chose to be quiet and tamely allow the spoilers to make off with their booty.

Jim came to his decision like the snapping of the jaws of a steel trap.

Reaching back, he pressed Budge's hand, as a signal for him to be ready.

Budge returned the pressure. Dolph stirred and drew a long breath. There was a moment of suspense. Overhead, a crow cawed harshly.

Noiselessly Jim rose to his hands and knees and crept forward. The small twigs and needles, crackling under his weight, sounded in his ears like exploding fireworks. He stopped; went on again; stopped; went on again.

How could Dolph fail to hear him coming? The distance was less than two yards, but to the crawling lad it seemed far longer.

Now he was close behind the unconscious bandit. He straightened up, setting his right foot squarely on the ground. As he did so a little branch snapped. Dolph, startled, turned his head. Before he could lift a finger Jim was upon him like a panther.

There was an indistinct cry of alarm.

_Spang!_

Off went a revolver, discharged at random, and the two were struggling in a confused heap under the low boughs.

It was a short fight. A third figure launched itself into the melee.

Though not nearly so strong as Jim, Budge alone would have been a good match for any average man, and the two of them together speedily vanquished Dolph. A firm hand was pressed over his mouth and he was relieved of his automatics. Finding that his captors were not disposed to injure him, he soon ceased his struggles.

Silence again. One of the would-be plunderers and the weapons of both were in the boys' hands. What should they do next?

"Hi! Hi! Scat, you brutes! Get a move on!"

Brittler's voice shattered the midnight stillness as he came, driving the sheep before him. From their covert the boys could look across the pasture and see the black, leaping shapes fast drawing nearer. It was high time to prepare to meet their second foe.

"Throppy, Whittington, Filippo! Come here! Quick!"

They came, Percy in the rear, his knees shaking.

"Budge, can the four of you handle this man if I let go?"

"Easy!"

"Keep his mouth shut till I tell you he can open it!"

"All right!"

Lane's hand replaced Jim's over Dolph's lips. The other three grasped him wherever they could find a chance. It would not have taken much to shake off Percy's trembling grip, but the prisoner was content to remain quiet.

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Jim Spurling, Fisherman Part 8 summary

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