s challenger.

"Stand me a quarter, an' I'll beat it," he invited raucously.

"A quarter! You'll beat it without a cent and do it quick, or go to
jail. That is my boat, do you hear? Come out. What are you doing there?
Stealing?"

"Sleepin', if you want to know."

"I've got a right to know. Are you going to take your filthy self off my
cushions, or am I going to throw you off?"

"You?"

"Yes, _me_. Who do you think?"

The man measured his young antagonist with unhurried scrutiny, yawned,
and ostentatiously settled himself in a position of greater comfort.

"You can't do it," he sneered. "Send a man."

The _Dear Me_ was not anchored, but moored to the pier by a pulley and
tackle. Before the diverted Gerard guessed his purpose, Corrie had
hauled in the boat's bow by the running line attached and swung himself
raging into the craft below. There was a choked oath, a sound of rending
canvas, then the clatter and thud of combat in close quarters.

It was over before Gerard could do more than haul the reeling,
water-drenched boat again within reach. A great splash, a cry changing
to a smothered gurgle, announced a threat fulfilled.

"I don't want any help," panted Corrie, standing erect and dishevelled,
fiery blue eyes on his floundering enemy. "He's had enough, I fancy.
Here, the water is only five feet deep, you chump! Not that way! Throw
me an oar, Gerard--he'd drown himself in a saucer. Here, catch hold,
you. What's the matter with you?"

"You pitched him into pretty cold water," Gerard reproached, between
amusement and pity. "Got him? Look out! You'll capsize!"

Corrie had him, by the collar, and brought him to the pier, a streaming,
shivering wreck.

"Man's size, am I?" demanded the victor. "Here, what are you shaking
like that for? You'll kill yourself, man."

The captive looked at him, speechless, shuddering miserably in the
boisterous rush of wind that wrapped his wet garments about him like a
sheath of ice.

"You silly idiot," Corrie snapped impatiently. "Why didn't you do as I
told you? Open the basement door, won't you, Gerard, while I bring him?
We'll be sure to find a fire there. Are you going to come quietly, yes?"

The victim followed tamely to the lower part of the building, where
Corrie threw open a furnace-door and installed him in the red glow of
heat.

"Take off your clothes," he commanded. "Trying to get pneumonia, are
you, so I will feel like a brute? Oh, I'll give you something to