The boys laughed and looked at Hooliam.
"Get on board the boat," Garth ordered, through Charley.
Hooliam's eyes bolted; but he made no move. With the sheer perversity of a child or a savage, he insisted there was no wind, even while the ripples were washing the stones at his feet.
Garth, thoroughly exasperated, picked up his rifle. His eyes glinted dangerously. "There's something behind this nonsense!" he cried. "And I'm going to stop it! You let him understand that if he opposes me any further I have eleven cartridges in the magazine of this rifle, and I would think as little of bringing him down as that wavy up there!"
A wild swan, most difficult of marks, was sailing high overhead. Garth, as he spoke, took aim and fired; and the great bird dropped like a plummet in the shallow water off shore.
Loud exclamations of admiration broke from the boys. Three of them dashed enthusiastically into the water to contend for the honour of bringing back the prize. Garth builded better than he knew. The boys while scarcely understanding the threat, were instantly impressed with the successful shot; and with it Garth established himself once and for all in their eyes. They instinctively began to carry the things on board as he had ordered; and in the end the scowling Hooliam was obliged to follow them on board, or be left behind.
As they were getting under way again, Garth observed Hooliam busy with the sail. When it was hoisted, it appeared he had taken a reef in it.
"Shake it out!" Garth commanded.
Hooliam shrugged and protested.
"He says the mast is not strong," Charley translated. "This heavy wind will carry it away," he says.