"This man Campbell," said Harrigan, "he's a true man, McTee, and he stood up to White Henshaw for my sake--for the sake of me and his Bobbie Burns.

They plan to take him to hell tomorrow, Angus, and I've an idea that there's one chance in the thousand that I could steal in on the dogs tonight and bring him back with me." "Can they do anything worse to him than they're doing to us ?" "Maybe not, but my heart would lie easier, McTee.

I'll wait for the fever o' the sun to go out of me head an' for the crew to get drunk an' a little drunker." So they waited while the noise of the nightly carousal waxed high and higher, and then died away by slow degrees.

At length Harrigan stood up, gripped the hand of McTee in silent farewell, heard a whispered "Good luck!" and slipped noiselessly down the ladder and started across the deck in the shadow of the rail.

From any portion of the main cabin eyes might be watching him; there was only the one chance in ten that the lookout whom Hovey had certainly stationed would not perceive him as he crept along under the shadow.