cruiser passed within fifty or sixty yards of the shantyboats at the landing, and Mrs. Mahna took a sharp look at it.
The man in the cockpit at the steering wheel was a tall, dark-featured fellow, whose shoulders were slightly stooped and who glanced sideways at the shantyboats, passing Mrs. Mahna with a contemptuous look. His boat swung down the crossing under hardly more than steerage way, the man looking ahead with a pair of binoculars.
"I don't like his looks," Mrs. Mahna declared. "He's one of those slick sports; he knows what he is about. He steered with one hand, and he rolled his eyes sideways—like a mean dog. He's no good on this river! But he knows the water. What's he dropping down after Delia for? Oh, I know the looks of those scoundrels! I've seen 'em dropping down, trailing some widow's daughter, or looking for another man's wife! I've seen that feller before—some'rs—I can't place 'im!"
Her husband, discreet and trained by long experience, ventured no suggestion. Her son, a grinning youth, rolled his eyes down the river, already dreaming of rescuing fair damsels from sleek pirates. Mrs. Haney, who lived in a little blue boat twenty yards up the eddy, hearing the remark, answered Mrs. Mahna:
