“Sure I will.” McLagan looked round quickly as he thrust his pipe into the corner of his mouth, and his strong jaws shut tight on its well-bitten stem. “Just as soon as you beat it.”
“I thought so.” Peter was chuckling. “Well, it doesn’t rattle me a thing. The only thing worrying me is the yarn lying back of the coal belt we’ve located. I’m sure crazy to get after that. So—I’ll beat it. So long.”
McLagan smiled at the other’s thrust.
“So long, boy.”
He stood gazing after the slim figure of his lieutenant as he hurried towards the head of the pathway down from the ledge on which they were standing. He waited till the last of his cloth cap vanished below the level. Then he lit his pipe and turned again to his absorbed contemplation of the mystery boat below.
The breeze was dead flat. It was low water. In something under an hour the tide would be starting its flood again. Meanwhile, the sky had clouded over. But it was without any storming threat. It was only the fleecy shading which came so frequently with the change of tide.
Sasa Mannik’s eyes had curiously widened as they gazed up into the face of the man he served. They were alight with all the superstitious fear of his kind. He had just concluded a long and almost incoherent protest which his boss’s demand for his assistance aboard the wreck had brought forth.
McLagan’s face was frowning. His eyes were coldly contemptuous. He stood a towering figure over the sturdy little man who was in open revolt.