Arranging to call near noon the next Thursday, Captain Higgins had soon rounded Brimstone Point and was on his way to Head Harbor on Isle au Haut, his next stopping-place. In the middle of the afternoon, while the boys were baiting trawls on the Barracouta, another boat chugged into the cove. It was a smack from Boston.
"Got any lobsters, boys?" asked the captain, a red-faced, smooth-shaven man of forty.
"All sold!" was Jim's reply. "And we've arranged to let the Calista have what we get."
"What do you do with your 'shorts'?"
"Heave 'em overboard."
"Save 'em for me and I'll give you ten cents apiece for 'em."
"Nothing doing!"
"You and your crowd could clean up fifty dollars more a week here just as well as not. What are you afraid of? The warden can't get out here once in a dog's age."
"The State of Maine doesn't have to hire any warden to keep me honest."
"You're a fool, young fellow!" said the man, heatedly.