"The boats are burning!" Ramsay gasped.
With a mighty, outraged lion's roar, Pieter came fully awake and sprang
toward the stairs. For one brief second Ramsay was aware of Marta's
face, dead-white, then he leaped to follow Pieter. Holding the candle
aloft, Hans followed. Again the Dutch fisherman seemed to take complete
command of the situation. There was anger in his voice but no trace of
panic when he warned the other two, "Slowly! Go slowly!"
His hand on the kitchen door, Pieter halted. Ramsay paused uncertainly
behind him, and Hans blew the candle out. The Dutch fisherman had
weathered so many savage storms that he seemed to know exactly what to
do, no matter what the crisis. Ramsay watched and approved. He must
learn to be more like Hans and to rule the emergencies that arose rather
than let them rule him.
Hans spoke again, "Let us not go like sheep to the slaughter. If they
came again, they are probably armed and they may shoot. Pieter, get the
guns."
Pieter shuffled off to the dark kitchen and came back. Ramsay felt the
familiar shotgun being pressed into his hands, and he knew that Hans and
Pieter each had a pistol. Because that seemed the thing to do, Ramsay
waited until Hans acted. The Dutch fisherman spoke again, and his voice
remained unruffled. "We cannot tell who or what is out there. Until we
discover exactly, keep out of the light cast by the burning boats. Do
not use your guns unless they shoot first. Then shoot to kill. Come on."
Silent as a shadow, Hans slipped into the blackness that reigned at the
back of the house. Pieter followed, while Ramsay brought up the rear. He
shivered, but only part of his chill was caused by the cold night. This
afternoon on the pound boat he had felt only tense excitement. But then
Hans and Pieter had backed him and their presence had been a very real
thing. Now, in the night, he was almost completely unaware of them. It
was as though he stood completely alone.
Ramsay felt his way along the rear wall of the house to the corner, and
there the darkness was broken by the glare from the burning boats.
Ramsay crept up beside Hans and peered around the corner.
The mist was gone, and a sharp breeze had sprung up in its wake. Every
night, when the fishing was done, or any time at all when they weren't
being used, the pound boats were pulled far up on the shore. Casting a
circle of light over the water, the burning boats illuminated the rising
waves whose whitecaps broke and fell. A fierce storm was in the making.
Ramsay's fear gave way to terrible anger. The wind from the lake would
have fanned the flames anyway, but obviously, before they had been set
on fire, the two pound boats had been coated with tar, pitch, or
something else that would burn hard and assure their complete
destruction. They were already charred beyond the faintest hope of
salvation. Ramsay gritted his teeth.
Hans left the house and swung back, away from the lake, on a course that
would keep him in the shadows. Ramsay followed, and he was aware of
Pieter following him. There was not the least sign of the raiders or of
the boat they might have come in. Ramsay hesitated. Perhaps they had
done their work and fled, or perhaps they were lurking in ambush near
the burning boats. Five shotguns could be ready to cut down whoever
came.
Then Ramsay set all his doubts at rest. He knew what he must do.
There could no longer be any question but that this was Devil Chad's
work. He controlled everything around Three Points that made any money.
He was out to gain control of the fishing, too, and he was not a man who
would leave any job half-done. Failing to provoke a fight because the
White Sturgeon had ruined his gill net, he had taken the direct
approach. Beyond any doubt he would be able to produce any number of
witnesses who would swear that Hans, Ramsay and Pieter were the
aggressors. Ramsay knew what he was going to do about this.
"Take the shotgun," he whispered, and pressed the weapon upon Pieter.
"But ..."
"Take it," Ramsay repeated.
Leaving the shotgun with the bewildered Pieter, he dropped to the ground
and wormed farther away from the circle of light. Into the shadows he
went, then on toward the lake. Now he did not know where Hans and Pieter
were or what they were doing, but he was positive that they would take
any action necessary when the time came. He no longer felt alone.
This was a thing that could never be settled with guns but must be
slugged out toe to toe and man to man. The fishing was worthwhile, and
any man who would get and keep anything worthwhile had to be ready to
fight for it. If Devil Chad had already fled, tomorrow they must go into
Three Points and seek him out.
Ramsay halted, peering around. He could see nothing clearly. The flames
had died down and there was only dimness, filled with varying shadows
that were most difficult to identify. But what was that down at the edge
of the lake?
It seemed to rise and fall with the rising and falling waves. Most of
the shadows were there one second and flitted away the next, but this
did not flit away, and after another thirty seconds Ramsay was fairly
sure that it was a Mackinaw boat, anchored out in the lake. Its crew had
waded ashore from it and, when and if they ran, they would wade back to
it.
Ramsay began a slow, steady crawl toward the anchored craft. The burning
pound boats flared brightly, seeming to ring him with a halo of light.
He shrank back, certain he could be seen, then as the glare subsided,
crawled forward again. If he could see no one in the darkness, neither
could anyone see him.
He was within thirty yards of the lake now, and he no longer gave a
thought to Hans and Pieter. He was sure only that they would be present
when they were needed and that his way was the right one. There could be
no compromise with destruction and no lingering aftermath of this
outrage. Whatever was to be settled had to be settled completely, and
tonight.
Ramsay was certain now that the thing he saw was an anchored Mackinaw
boat. It remained in the same place, rising and falling with the waves,
and no nebulous shadow did that. Intent on the boat, he was not aware of
the man until he heard his voice, "Gus, you fool! I said be quiet!"
Ramsay held very still, and a rising exultation flooded him. He had
heard that voice before, and there was only one just like it. He had
heard it first when he stood on the _Holter_--that seemed years ago. He
knew that he lay within feet of Devil Chad, who was indeed waiting in
ambush with his men.