into runnin' away."

He got out the lanyard, slipped a cartridge in the breech,
paused, and scratched his head again. His calm deliberation was
driving Scraggs crazy. He reminded Mr. Gibney with some asperity
that they were not attending a strawberry festival and for the
love of heaven to get busy.

"I'm estimatin' the range, you snipe," Gibney retorted. "Looks to
be about three miles to me. A little long, mebbe, for this gun,
but--there's nothin' like tryin'," and he sighted carefully.
"Fire," he bawled as the _Maggie_ rested an instant in the trough
of the sea--and a deckhand jerked the lanyard. Instantly Mr.
Gibney clapped the long glass to his eye.

"Good direction--over," he murmured. "I'll lay on her waterline
next time." He jerked open the breech, ejected the cartridge
case, and rammed another cartridge home. This shot struck the
water directly under the schooner's bow and threw water over her
forecastle head. Mr. Gibney smiled, spat overboard, and winked
confidently at Captain Scraggs. "Like spearin' fish in a bath
tub," he declared. He bent over the fuse setter. "Corrector three
zero," he intoned, "four eight hundred." He thrust a cartridge in
the fuse setter, twisted it, slammed it in the gun, and fired
again. The water broke into tiny waterspouts over a considerable
area some two hundred yards short of the schooner, so Mr. Gibney
raised his range to five thousand and tried again. "Over," he
growled.

Something whined over the _Maggie_ and threw up a waterspout half
a mile beyond her.

"Dubs," jeered Mr. Gibney, and sighted again. This time his
shrapnel burst neatly on the schooner. Almost simultaneously a
shell from the schooner dropped into the sacked coal on the
forecastle head of the _Maggie_ and enveloped her in a black pall
of smoke and coal dust. Captain Scraggs screamed.

"Tit for tat," the philosophical Gibney reminded him. "We can't
expect to get away with everything, Scraggsy, old kiddo." The
words were scarcely out of his mouth before the _Maggie's_
mainmast and about ten feet of her ancient railing were trailing
alongside. Mr. Gibney whistled softly through his teeth and
successfully sprayed the Mexican again. "It breaks my heart to
ruin that craft's canvas," he declared, and let her have it once
more.

"My _Maggie's_ tail is shot away," Captain Scraggs wailed, "an' I
only rebuilt it a week ago." Three more shots from the long gun
missed them, but the fourth carried away the cabin, le