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Updated: June 20, 2025
Brittler and his accomplices were held for trial at the next term of court, and the Chinese were taken in charge by the immigration inspector. Before six that night the boys were passing out by Portland Head in the Pollux, bound east.
The boys came together again at the foot of the sea-wall. Should they fight or run? It was one or the other. Whatever else they might be, Dolph and Brittler clearly were not cowards. If there was a fight, it was certain somebody would be shot, very likely killed. Was the risk worth taking?
At dinner that noon the boys related their narrow escape to the others, and all agreed it would be well to keep a sharp lookout for Brittler and his gang. "They've got a grudge against us, fast enough," said Lane. "They intend to even matters up if they can find the chance." That afternoon Percy again wielded the splitting-knife. "You'll soon get the knack of it," approved Jim.
"I don't like that big fellow worth a cent." "Good reason!" was the captain's rather sarcastic comment. "You haven't any license to joke me about that knockdown, Bart Brittler! I noticed you weren't in any hurry to mix it with him." There was a moment of silence. "What's that?" cried the captain, suddenly. "Sounds like water running in! Hope the old scow isn't leaking. Let's have that lantern!"
He could hear the voices of Brittler and Jim, the one questioning, angry, and menacing, the other tantalizingly deliberate as he grudgingly gave the information demanded. Percy delayed no longer. He had his own work to do, and it demanded all his energy. Down he stole to the water's edge, then followed it west until he reached a sloping rock.
It would not have taken much to shake off Percy's trembling grip, but the prisoner was content to remain quiet. There was a patter of hoofs; the sheep were coming. Soon they were flitting by the ambush, shying off as their keen senses warned them of possible danger. Again they scattered toward the northwest end of the island. After them danced Brittler, roaring with anger.
"Captain Brittler," he said, "you and Dolph came to steal sheep, and it isn't your fault that you haven't been able to do it. You thought there was nobody on this island and that you could kill and take to suit yourselves. You've been caught red-handed. By good rights you ought to be turned over to the sheriff.
You're always the first man down at the table and the last to leave it." "You needn't twit me on my appetite, 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."
Jim heard the quick patter of the continental code; Brittler heard it, too, and understood. He sprang forward with a shout of alarm. "They've got a wireless! Smash it!" A buffet on the side of the head knocked Stevens off his soap-box and sent him rolling on the floor. Five seconds later a crashing blow from a stick of firewood put the instrument out of commission.
The two separated, Dolph evidently going to look after the Chinese, while Brittler kept on toward the cabin. Percy stood stock-still, his heart thumping. Would the captain discover his absence? "How's everything here, boys?" hailed Brittler. "All quiet," replied one of the sentries. "Come inside with me, Herb, so these fellows won't try any funny business." The door opened.
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