At once my grimy companions, Bilk among the number, fell upon the pile of wood. For a moment I stood undecided—then made to walk boldly past the mate. Back of the wharf I saw the land, a sloping rise dotted with farmhouses, take form in the growing light; and I was for St. Louis whether or no. But Tupper forestalled me. I did not get past him. He seemed to be paying little attention, yet when I came abreast of him, heart somewhat a-flutter he lurched and struck out—with marvellous quickness for a stodgy-built man. There was no escaping the swing of his fist. I was knocked down before I knew it, for the second time in twelve hours. Satisfaction gleamed in his small, blue eyes. He stepped back, and when I got to my feet, something dazed and almost desperate, he was facing me with a goodly billet in one hand.

“Dig in there, blast yuh!” he roared. “Grab a stick an’ down below with it, or I’ll fix yuh good an’ plenty, yuh——”

The fierceness of him, the futility of pitting myself against a club, much less his ponderous fists, quelled me once more. I hoisted a length of cordwood upon my shoulder and passed aboard. Another trip I made, and some of the murderous rage that seethed inside me must have shown upon my countenance; for Bilk lagged, and, edging near as we trod the gangway together, muttered a word of advice.

“Fergit it, kid,” he warned. “Don’t go agin’ him. He’s a killer—he’s got more’n one man’s scalp a’ready. An’ it’s the calaboose for you if yuh do lay him out. See?”

Bilk was right. I was aware that while falling short of mutiny on the high seas, a good smash at Mr. Tupper would land me in jail right speedily—providing the captain and the other mate left enough of me to lock up—and seeing th