hought of it, but we
can't stop."

A look of consternation slowly overspread Ole Ericsen's broad face. It
was only too true. We had a hornet's nest on our hands, and to stop
at Collinsville would be to have it about our ears.

"Every man Jack of them has a gun," one of the sailors remarked
cheerfully.

"Yes, and a knife, too," the other sailor added.

It was Ole Ericsen's turn to groan. "What for a Svaidish faller like
me monkey with none of my biziness, I don't know," he soliloquized.

A bullet glanced on the stern and sang off to starboard like a
spiteful bee. "There's nothing to do but plump the _Mary Rebecca_
ashore and run for it," was the verdict of the first cheerful sailor.

"And leaf der _Mary Rebecca_?" Ole demanded, with unspeakable horror
in his voice.

"Not unless you want to," was the response. "But I don't want to be
within a thousand miles of her when those fellers come
aboard"--indicating the bedlam of excited Greeks towing behind.

We were right in at Collinsville then, and went foaming by within
biscuit-toss of the wharf.

"I only hope the wind holds out," Charley said, stealing a glance at
our prisoners.

"What of der wind?" Ole demanded disconsolately. "Der river will not
hold out, and then...and then..."

"It's head for tall timber, and the Greeks take the hindermost,"
adjudged the cheerful sailor, while Ole was stuttering over what would
happen when we came to the end of the river.

We had now reached a dividing of the ways. To the left was the mouth
of the Sacramento River, to the right the mouth of the San Joaquin.
The cheerful sailor crept forward and jibed over the foresail as
Charley put the helm to starboard and we swerved to the right into
the San Joaquin. The wind, from which we had been running away on an
even keel, now caught us on our beam, and the _Mary Rebecca_ was
pressed down on her port side as if she were about to capsize.

Still we dashed on, and still the fishermen dashed on behind. The
value of their nets was greater than the fines they would have to pay
for violating the fish laws; so to cast off from their nets and
escape, which they could easily do, would profit them nothing.
Further, they remained by their nets instinctively, as a sailor
remains by his ship. And still further, the desire for vengeance was
roused, and we could depend upon it that they would follow us to the
ends of the earth, if we undertook to tow them that far.

The rifle-firing had ceas