He sat down, turned his back to the scowling, indeterminate Hughie, and sipped the hot coffee. Nelly Callahan did not smile, however, as she put the mulligan pot in the embers. It had come to her that while she was crossing the point, this man must have worked his canoe in to the shore, have dragged it up, and have made camp. And what was this story of owning the timber?
“You and me will have a talk,” said Hughie Dunlevy, “when you’ve had a bite to eat.”
“Right,” said Hardrock Callahan. “I’ve had one or two talks already this morning.”
The girl looked at him, met his twinkling gray eyes, and smiled despite herself.
CHAPTER II
Nelly Callahan saw that this man Hardrock was a stranger; and yet he was not a stranger. No one but a fool would have walked ashore on the Beavers and claimed ownership of land, unless he was known and accepted; for little good his law title would do him. Hardrock was certainly not a fool, however; and at the same time he had some knowledge of the islands. He had hidden his canoe and the stuff in it; and it was significant that Nelly did not look upon the story he told as a lie, but as justifiable precaution. Was it his motorboat that she had seen sinking?
“And did ye say,” inquired Hughie, recalling the boat, “that your boat had gone down?”
“Motorboat,” and Hardrock nodded in affirmation. “Hit a sunken rock out yonder and raked her bottom out.”
“Where from?”
“St. James.”