unlocked he
turned into his bunk, without a word to anybody. For him the Fourth had
been anything but a holiday.

Before going to sleep, Spurling outlined their work for the morrow.

"Throppy, you and I'll try our luck on Martingale Bank. It's only a
half-mile northwest of the island, and sometimes you can get a big catch
there. I've been saving it for a time like this. Budge, you and Percy
ought to get at least a couple of hundred pounds out of those
lobster-traps. They'll have been down two days and should yield some
good-sized ones. Set the clock at four, Filippo! We'll be lazy for
once."

Percy's sleep was broken. He dreamed of being chased along the main
street of Vinalhaven by a crowd of small boys shooting at him with Roman
candles. He dodged into an open doorway, only to be driven out by a
giant with Jabe's face and a half-dozen pairs of arms the fists of which
were studded with a double allowance of knuckles. He was fast being
pounded to a pulp when the alarm-clock went off. He woke in a cold
sweat.

Lying with closed eyes, he pretended to be asleep while Jim and Throppy
finished a hasty breakfast. Soon the exhaust of the _Barracouta_
proclaimed that they were on their way to Martingale Bank. Percy dozed,
but remained conscious of Filippo's culinary operations.

At five Lane turned out, according to schedule. He shook Percy
vigorously.

"Wake up, Whittington! Breakfast!"

"Don't care for mine yet."

"Aren't you going out with me to haul those traps?"

"No!" retorted Percy, sourly.

"Suit yourself!" was Lane's brief response.

Percy knew that Budge would rather go without him. He heard him give a
whistle as he examined Nemo's leg; the animal cringed and whimpered.

"Poor fellow! Too bad!" sympathized Lane.

The remark was evidently intended for Percy's ears. At least the lad
took it so. He felt sorry if Nemo was really hurt. Lane went out, and
Percy turned over for another nap. When he next woke it was almost seven
and the cabin was empty. He got up and dressed leisurely.

Looking out of the window, he saw Filippo digging clams on the flats
across the cove. That meant chowder for dinner, a dish he particularly
detested. He made a wry mouth and turned to the larder, but could
discover nothing but some cold fish and fried potatoes. The fire had
gone out, and he determined to await Filippo's return before
breakfasting.

Deliberately scratching a match, he lighted a cigarette, thereby
breaking t