"Maybe he's right about these shellfish," he pronounced judicially, "but it's a hard thing an' a dangerous thing to take the word of a man like McTee—he's that hasty. We must go easy on believin' what he says, Kate."
CHAPTER 12
Then understanding flooded Kate's mind like waves of light in a dark room. She tilted back her head and laughed, laughed heartily, laughed till the tears brimmed her eyes. The gloomy scowl of Harrigan stopped her at last. As her mirth died out, the tall form of McTee appeared suddenly before them with his arms crossed. Where they touched his breast, the muscles spread out to a giant size. He was turned toward her, but the gleam of his eye fell full upon Harrigan.
"I suppose," said McTee, and his teeth clicked after each word like the bolt of a rifle shot home, "I suppose that you were laughing at me?"
The Irishman rose and faced the Scotchman, his head thrust forward and a devil in his eyes.
"An' what if we were, Misther McTee?" he purred. "An' what if we wer-r-re, I'm askin'?"
Kate leaped to her feet and sprang between them.
"Is there anything we can do," she broke in hurriedly, "to get away from the island?"
"A raft?" suggested Harrigan.
McTee smiled his contempt.