Hughie sipped his hot one reflectively. They looked to him for leadership, and he was not backward in accepting the guidon; at the same time, he was not going to rush headlong into trouble. There had been altogether too much trouble of late, and any rash actions that would compel the law to make an investigation would make everybody on the islands irritated with Hughie Dunlevy.
“We’ll ’tend to him,” said Hughie. “We’ll give him a dose that’ll send him away where he come from. I got a little score of my own to be settlin’ wid him.”
“So I hear,” said one, and there was a snicker. “What’d he hit ye wid, Hughie?”
“Blessed if I know, but he’ll not do it again! You felleys go easy wid your talk, now. We got other things to mind besides him. I’m goin’ to cut loose every fish-trap up and down the shores that aint ours, and if we meet them Cheboygan or Manistique lads, we’ll make ’em like it.”
“That’s the stuff, Hughie!” came the chorus of affirmation.
Now Jimmy Basset spoke up, as he limped over to the stove and refilled the kettle.
“After church this mornin’ I was talkin’ a bit wid Matz Larsen. Ye know that little point where his wharf and fish-sheds are, on the Garden Island shore up beyond his place? He was tellin’ me that on Thursday mornin’ at the break o’ the storm, him and his boys were mendin’ nets when they seen a strange boat off the island, cruisin’ about.”
“Eh?” Hughie’s eyes narrowed. “What sort o’ boat was it?”
“Green wid a red stripe around the house. A stranger. Up from Ludington, maybe, or one o’ them ports. It was no Cheboygan boat; that’s certain.”
“Well,”—and Hughie stood up,—“it’s time I was off, for I’ve a date. We’ll go over to Hog Island tomorry night and attend to the lad from Arizona. We’ll take my big open boat that the resorters use for fishin’-parties. Jimmy, fetch a quart along to cheer us up. I’ll have the boat ready as soon as it’s dark.”