he demanded.

I was sure I wouldn't and said so.

"But you don't have to be a coward to lose your head, do you?"

I agreed that brave men might get excited.

"Well, then," Paul summed up, with a note of regret in his voice, "the
chances are that we'd spoil the adventure. So it's a shame, and that's
all I can say about it."

"The adventure hasn't come yet," I answered, not caring to see him down
in the mouth over nothing. You see, Paul was a peculiar fellow in some
things, and I knew him pretty well. He read a good deal, and had a quick
imagination, and once in a while he'd get into moods like this one. So I
said, "The adventure hasn't come yet, so there's no use worrying about
its being spoiled. For all we know, it might turn out splendidly."

Paul didn't say anything for some time, and I was thinking he was out of
the mood, when he spoke up suddenly:

"Just imagine, Bob Kellogg, as we're sailing along now, just as we are,
and never mind what for, that a boat should bear down upon us with armed
men in it, what would you do to repel boarders? Think you could rise to
it?"

"What would _you_ do?" I asked pointedly. "Remember, we haven't
even a single shotgun aboard."

"You would surrender, then?" he demanded angrily. "But suppose they were
going to kill you?"

"I'm not saying what I'd do," I answered stiffly, beginning to get a
little angry myself. "I'm asking what you'd do, without weapons of any
sort?"

"I'd find something," he replied--rather shortly, I thought.

I began to chuckle. "Then the adventure wouldn't be spoiled, would it?
And you've been talking rubbish."

Paul struck a match, looked at his watch, and remarked that it was
nearly one o'clock--a way he had when the argument went against him.
Besides, this was the nearest we ever came to quarreling now, though
our share of squabbles had fallen to us in the earlier days of our
friendship. I had just seen a little white light ahead when Paul
spoke again.

"Anchor-light," he said. "Funny place for people to drop the hook. It
may be a scow-schooner with a dinky astern, so you'd better go wide."

I eased the _Mist_ several points, and, the wind puffing up, we
went plowing along at a pretty fair speed, passing the light so wide
that we could not make out what manner of craft it marked. Suddenly the
_Mist_ slacked up in a slow and easy way, as though running upon
soft mud. We were both startled. The wind was blowing stronger than
ever, and yet we w