By this time it was midday. I was hungry, for a breeze on the water is calculated to sharpen up almost any one’s appetite. I had a lunch in the locker, and this I munched as the sloop sped along to the north shore.
Suddenly I saw, or fancied I saw, a speck of white in the bushes some distance ahead. I tacked in the direction, and presently distinguished the mast of some vessel standing out straight among the crooked trees that lined a long and narrow inlet.
Satisfied that I had made a discovery of importance, I lowered the jib and took several reefs in the mainsail. The wind carried me directly into the opening, and here I dropped anchor.
“Hullo, there! What do you want here?”
It was a rough voice that hailed me, and looking around I beheld a rougher-looking man standing on the shore, not ten feet away from me.
It was Andy Carney, the fellow Darrow had mentioned to me. He carried a gun, and his manner was one of astonishment and anger.
CHAPTER VII.
A PITCHED BATTLE.
I was astonished to find myself face to face with Andy Carney, whom I knew to be one of the toughest characters that infested the north shore of Rock Island Lake.