low the knee-cap and I could not stifle a cry of
pain.

However, the kick did not stop the blow I landed straight from the
shoulder and it gave me some satisfaction, even at the time, to note
that Paul's howl of agony was much louder than mine as he picked himself
up from the other end of the cockpit.

CHAPTER II

IN WHICH IS SHOWN THE RESULT OF A BAD BEGINNING

Paul's face was convulsed with passion, and when he was in a rage he
lost all control to his tongue, using language that was simply frightful
from a boy brought up in a decent home. And at this particular time he
was so enraged that he forgot to be afraid! He rushed at me the instant
he regained his feet, his arms beating the air like those of a windmill.
He was a lubberly fellow at best and the sloop, with the tiller swinging
as it listed, was kicking and jumping like a restive pony. I squared off
at him in proper form, and when he came within reach I landed a second
blow which likewise sent him to the deck.

I glanced hurriedly about. The Wavecrest was some distance from any of
the other craft beating into the harbor. The sun had set long since and
the moon, a great, round target of silver, was rising out of the sea,
its light shimmering across the heaving liquid plain. A more peaceful
scene one could scarcely imagine, and somehow it took the heat of
passion out of me.

"Hold on, Paul! we mustn't fight like this," I said, as he rose again,
the blood running from his nose and his cheek swollen as though he had a
walnut in it.

"You're goin' to _crawl_ now, are ye?" he yelled.

"It's foolish and wicked for us to act like this," said I, hastily.
"What will your father and my mother say?"

"I don't care what they say!" he shouted, wildly. "I'll make you wish
you'd never struck me, Clint Webb."

He sprang aft again. I caught the glimmer of moonlight upon something he
clutched in his hand. "What are you doing, Paul?" I cried.

But he plunged toward me, his dark features writhing in passion. At the
moment Paul Downes was a murderer at heart; although I believed I could
beat him in any fair fight, the weapon in his hand frightened me.

"Put it down, Paul! Put it down!" I begged of him. But he was on top of
me in a breath and we rolled over and over in the sloop's cockpit. Why
it was that he did not seriously injure me, I cannot tell to this day!
He struck at me viciously a dozen times; but by a miracle I escaped even
a scratch.

Suddenly I cau