gracious greeting, backed by his companion's insolent hail and the more eloquent forty-five.
"Sheer off, or I'll drill lead into yer blasted hides with this here little riveter."
The blades swept through the water—a boat's length nearer. From the rail came a crack like the snap of a black-snake whip. A singing little object cut the crest of the wave near the bow oar; another sent a little fountain of spray over the stroke and went ricocheting on its way.
Truer was Captain Brent's aim. A maddened yelp like a mongrel's when struck by a stone, issued from the wicked saw teeth. The grey head ducked.
"Winged by"
Another length, the rudder swung, the starboard oars were shipped suddenly, and the boat sheered alongside.
Over the rail tumbled the sailors, but the two faces—the one with the discoloured eye and the scar, and the old man, had disappeared. Deck and cabin were searched—no sign of the chest or the fugitives, except the half-sullen, half-defiant girl who had commented so disrespectfully on the Captain's figure during their first and more formal visit to the yacht.
"Now, yaller bird," said Benson, "be nice an' ladylike and tell us where yer mates went."
Carlotta jerked her head saucily towards shore.
Three heads, like tiny corks on the water, were edging toward's the beach,—Pete's and Old Man Veldmann's and a third, that of the sailor who, mutinous at first, had later been won over by MacAllister's wiles and the lure of the gold.
