Only for a moment he stood thus paralyzed. Then his wits, accustomed to work quickly in emergencies, swept back. With a leap, he gained the bow and with his sheath-knife severed the rope which held the launch to the dock. Springing back to the engine, he shoved on the switch and flung the fly wheel over. Instantly the motor began to throb and the threatened launch backed slowly out of the sheet of flame. Safe outside the danger zone, Walter shut off the engine and with his cap beat out the patches of flame that clung to the launch's sides. Then he leaned over and grimly inspected his craft. Ten minutes before she had been a dainty thing in her coat of white, now she looked like an ancient wreck with her scorched and smoke-grimed sides on which the melted paint hung in ugly, dropsical blisters. The worst of it was there was no redress for the damages done her. So cunning was the scheme that it bore all the semblance of an accident, though the wrathful lad knew it was anything but that. He could imagine scoundrels chuckling to themselves in the closed shack and his blood boiled in his veins. How we would like to repay them for the fright and damage. He sat down for a moment and strove to gain control of his temper for he realized that an outburst on his part would do no good and might make more trouble. As soon as he calmed down a bit, he started up the engine and worked the launch back to the dock.
A wagon was waiting and its driver looked down in amazement at the sadly-altered launch. "What happened to you?" he questioned.
"Some gasoline and a match," Walter replied, carelessly. "No damage done beyond some scorched paint. Please report it to Mr. Daniels and tell him we will repaint her as soon as there comes a spell of bad weather when we cannot fish."
The driver departed with his load satisfied with the explanation for accidents were common amongst the fishing fleet.
In half an hour longer the last of the fish had been carted away and Charley came hustling down with a beaming face, which fell as he caught sight of the launch. He asked no questions, however, but jumped aboard and shoved off. Once under way Walter enlightened him.
"Those fellows are clever in their meanness," said Charley, with grudging admiration. "One would not think from Hunter's looks that he had much brains. We have certainly got to be on our guard every minute. That's twice in two days he has nearly put us out of business without exposing himself."
"I wish we could get even with him," declared Walter, wrathfully.
Charley grinned. "In a way we are even with him already. There must be five hundred dollars' worth of liquor in that cache and he dare not touch a bottle of it as long as we are on the island. Seriously though, I would give a good deal to catch him in such a way that we could have the law on him. Until we do, we will have to be watchful and avoid open trouble. He is pretty sure to make a slip sooner or later. The cleverest of rascals do, and then will be our chance if he does not get us first. I am beginning to understand why the rest of the fishermen stand in such fear of incurring his enmity. There is the captain and Chris waiting for us on the dock. I wonder what's the matter. They ought to have been through their work and the captain asleep long ago."
By this time, they had drawn near to the little pier and could plainly see the little negro and the old sailor pacing about in evident excitement. In a few more minutes, the launch glided in alongside the dock and the cause of the excitement became apparent. The two were standing by a heap of broken splintered planks that had once been their extra skiff.