“Of course. It’s the little flag left flying from a fish-trap to show its position.”
“Oh!” Hardrock laughed and tossed it aside. “I don’t know what made me bring it—found it lying in that boat this morning, with a lot of other stuff.”
To his surprise, the girl’s eyes dilated suddenly, excitement leaped into her face.
“What boat?” she demanded. “Not—” “Yes, the one that ran me down. Why?” Dropping her work, Nelly Callahan pounced on the bit of canvas, and lifted blazing eyes.
“Don’t you see! It explains everything! Can’t you remember seeing that flag in the water just before they ran you down?”
Hardrock stared at her, his gray eyes narrowed and glittering.
“Hm! Blamed if I can see why it amounts to much—come to think of it, I believe I did notice such a flag. Ran close to it. Not the same one, probably.”
“Of course it was the same one!” exclaimed the girl, excitedly. She was all animation. “Don’t you see? This flag is painted to denote ownership, so each man will know his own traps! We don’t use them much around here—don’t need to. But the perch season is coming on, and fishermen from Charlevoix and Petoskey and even Cheboygan who work around here need to use marked traps. Now do you see? Hughie Dunlevy and his friends have been fighting the men from outside who come in on their grounds. Well, Marty Biddy Basset and Owen John, as soon as they ran you down, circled back to that fish-trap and probably started to rob it. They broke off this flag so the owners wouldn’t find the trap again, and—”
Hardrock whistled. “And then the owners came along and opened fire! Upon my word, Nelly, I believe you’ve struck it! And nobody noticed this flag lying in the boat last night—”
They stared at each other, until suddenly the girl broke into a tremulous laugh.