"We'll know before midnight," said Jim. "Take Parsons's automatic, Perce, and come along with Budge and myself. Throppy, you stay here with Filippo and help guard these fellows."
He glanced at the sullen three lying bound on the floor.
"Don't look as if they could make much trouble. Still, it's better for somebody to keep an eye on 'em."
Jim, Budge, and Percy stepped out and closed the door. The shouting from the Barracouta kept on with undiminished vigor. Appeals and threats jostled one another in the verbal torrent.
"Let 'em yell themselves hoarse," whispered Jim. "It won't do 'em any good."
The fish-house was near. A lighted lantern hung just inside the open door. Near it stood the fourth smuggler, peering anxiously out; behind him huddled the Chinamen. He gave an exclamation of relief as he saw Jim's figure approaching through the fog.
"I'm glad—"
He stopped short, frozen with surprise, at the sight of the three boys. Swiftly his hand darted toward his left coat pocket.
"None of that, Shane!" commanded Jim, sharply. "Put 'em up!"
The three automatics in the boys' hands showed the guard that resistance was useless. He obeyed sulkily.