"No," said Jim. "It's gone far enough."
"Not looking for trouble, are you?"
"No," remarked Jim, easily. "I don't want any trouble with you, and you don't want any with me."
The shirt-sleeved man glanced appraisingly at his square shoulders and strongly knit figure.
"Right you are, George!" he laughed. "I don't want any trouble with you. You must be a mind-reader. You call off your dog and I'll call off mine."
He grasped Jabe by the collar and jerked him backward. Jim dropped a compelling hand on Percy's shoulder.
"Come on, Whittington! You ought to have brains enough to know you've been licked. It's time we started for Tarpaulin Island."