LITMIR.BIZ

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he pronounced judicially, “but it’s a hard thing an’ a dangerous thing to take the word of a man like McTee—he’s that hasty. We must go easy on believin’ what he says, Kate.”

      CHAPTER 12

      Then understanding flooded Kate’s mind like waves of light in a dark room. She tilted back her head and laughed, laughed heartily, laughed till the tears brimmed her eyes. The gloomy scowl of Harrigan stopped her at last. As her mirth died out, the tall form of McTee appeared suddenly before them with his arms crossed. Where they touched his breast, the muscles spread out to a giant size. He was turned toward her, but the gleam of his eye fell full upon Harrigan.

      “I suppose,” said McTee, and his teeth clicked after each word like the bolt of a rifle shot home, “I suppose that you were laughing at me?”

      The Irishman rose and faced the Scotchman, his head thrust forward and a devil in his eyes.

      “An’ what if we were, Misther McTee?” he purred. “An’ what if we wer-r-re, I’m askin’?”

      Kate leaped to her feet and sprang between them.

      “Is there anything we can do,” she broke in hurriedly, “to get away from the island?”

      “A raft?” suggested Harrigan.

      McTee smiled his contempt.

      “A raft? And how would you cut down the trees to make it?”

      “Burn ’em down with a circle of fire at the bottom.”

      “And then set green logs afloat? And how fasten ’em together, even supposing we could burn them down and drag them to the water? No, there’s no way of getting off the island unless a boat passes and catches a glimpse of our fire.”

      “Then we’ll have to move this fire to the top of the hill,” said Harrigan.

      “Suppose we go now and look over the hill and see what dry wood is near it,” said McTee.

      “Good.”

      Something in their eagerness had a meaning for Kate.

      “Would you both leave me?” she reproached them.

      “It was McTee suggested it,” said Harrigan.

      McTee favored his comrade with a glance that would have made any other man give ground. It merely made Harrigan grin.

      “We’ll draw straws for who goes and who stays,” said McTee.

      Kate picked up two bits of wood.

      “The short one stays,” she said.

      “Draw,” said Harrigan in a low voice.

      “I was taught manners young,” said McTee. “After you.”

      They exchanged glares again. The whole sense of her power over these giants came home to her as she watched them fighting their duel of the eyes.

      “You suggested it,” she said to McTee.

      He stepped forward with an expression as grim as that of a prize fighter facing an antagonist of unknown prowess. Once and again his hand hovered above the sticks before he drew.

      “You’ve chosen the walk to the hill,” she said, and showed the shorter stick. “Do you mind?”

      “No,” mocked Harrigan, “he always walks after meals.”

      Their eyes dwelt almost fondly upon each other. They were both men after the other’s heart. Then the Scotchman turned and strode away.

      Kate watched Harrigan suspiciously, but his eyes, following McTee, were gentle and dreamy.

      “Ah,” he murmured, “there’s a jewel of a man.”

      “Do you like him so much?”

      “Do I like him? Me dear, I love the man; I’ll break his head with more joy than a shtarvin’ man cracks a nut!”

      He recovered himself instantly.

      “I didn’t mean that—I—”

      “Dan, you and McTee have planned to fight!”

      He growled: “If a man told me that, I’d say he was a liar.”

      “Yes; but you won’t lie to a girl, Harrigan.”

      She rose and faced him, reaching up to lay her hands on his thick shoulders.

      “Will you give me your promise as an honest man to try to avoid a fight with him?”

      For she saw death in it if they met alone; certainly death for one, and perhaps for both.

      “Kate, would you ask a tree to promise to avoid the lightning?”

      She caught a little breath through set teeth in her angry impatience, then: “Dan, you’re like a naughty boy. Can’t you be reasonable?”

      Despite her wrath, she noticed a quick change in his face. The blue of his eyes was no longer cold and incurious, but lighted, warm, and marvelously deep.

      And she said rapidly, making her voice cold to quell the uneasy, rising fire behind his eyes: “If you have made McTee angry, aren’t you man enough to smooth things over—to ask his pardon?”

      He answered vaguely: “Beg his pardon?”

      “Why is that so impossible? For my sake, Dan!”

      The light went out of his face as if a candle had been snuffed.

      “For you, Kate?”

      Then she understood her power fully for the first time, and found the thing which she must do.

      “For me. I—I—”

      She let her head droop, and then glanced up as if beseeching him to ask no questions.

      “Look me square in the eye—so!”

      He caught her beneath the chin with a grip that threatened a bruise, and his eyes burned down upon her.

      “Are ye playin’ with me, Kate? Are ye tryin’ to torment me, or do ye really care for McTee?”

      She tried with all her might, but could not answer. The rumble and ring of his voice brought her heart to her throat.

      “You’re tremblin’,” said Harrigan, and he released her. “So it’s all true. McTee!”

      He turned on his heel like a soldier, lest she should mark the change of his expression; but she must have noticed something, for she called: “Harrigan—Dan!”

      He stopped, but would not face her.

      “You have your hands clenched. Are you going out to hunt for McTee in that black mood?”

      “Kate,” said Harrigan, “by my honor I’m swearin’ he’s as safe in my hands as a child.”

      CHAPTER 13

      Harrigan strode off through the trees. To loosen the tight, aching muscles of his throat he began to sing—old Irish songs with a wail and a swing to them. He had taken no certain direction, for he only wished to be alone and far away from the other two; but after a time he realized that he was on the side of the central hill to which McTee had gone to look for the dry wood. Above all things in the world he wished to avoid the Scotchman now, and as soon as he became conscious of his whereabouts, he veered sharply to the right. He had scarcely walked a minute in the new direction before he met McTee. The latter had seen him first, and now stood with braced feet in his position of battle, rolling the sleeves of his shirt away from his forearms. Harrigan stepped behind a tree.

      “Come out,” roared McTee. “I’ve seen you. Don’t try to sneak behind and take me from the back.”

      With an exceeding bitterness of heart, Harrigan stepped into view again.

      “You look sick,” went on

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