started toward the door. As he passed
Jabe the latter stretched out his hand.

"You can fight," he conceded, grudging admiration in his tones.

Percy grasped the bunch of stubby fingers.

"So can you," he returned. "If you'd been to the masters I've had, I
wouldn't care to mix it with you."

The boys opened a way for him respectfully as he passed through the
door. He was breathing a little quicker than usual, but he had not
received a scratch. Going back to the wharf where they had landed, he
found that Budge had been waiting for him almost fifteen minutes.

"What makes you so late, Perce?" he hailed. "We want to ship these
groceries and start for Tarpaulin before noon."

Percy began passing the boxes and bags down aboard the dory.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," he apologized. "But I've just been
settling an account with an old friend."

Then he told Lane of his encounter with Jabe.

"Now," continued he, "I'll tell you why I've been up into the woods
every afternoon with that sweater of rockweed. I made it into a tight
bundle and hung it on a springy limb to use for a punching-bag. It
wasn't very ornamental, but it served the purpose. I've been training
for this fight ever since the Fourth; had a feeling I'd get another
chance at him. It's over now, and I hope everybody's satisfied. I am, at
any rate."

"So that's the reason of your daily pilgrimages," laughed Lane. "You
certainly have been faithful enough to deserve to win. But what if you'd
never run across Jabe again? Wouldn't you have felt that you'd thrown
away your time?"

"Not a bit of it! That bout every afternoon has kept me in first-class
shape. But now the great event has come off, I'm going to break training
and give the rockweed a rest."

The _Barracouta_ was back at Tarpaulin before three o'clock. A remark
dropped by Budge roused the curiosity of the others, and Percy was
obliged once more to recount the story of his fight with Jabe.

"Well," said Jim, when he had finished, "they say a patient waiter is no
loser; but I guess it depends a good deal on how you spend your time
while you're waiting--eh, Perce?"

That night, after dark, when the boys were preparing to turn in, Filippo
stepped out to the fish-house for some kindling. He came back on the
run.

"_Fuoco!_" he panted.

The others trooped out hastily. On the southern horizon flamed a ruddy
light. Spurling gave a cry of alarm.

"Boys, it's a vessel on fire!"

XXI