Hiram still retained his nerve, but his anger and disappointment had become stolid as he handed me the paper and pointed to the Fearsome across the river—the tug still alongside.

I stood before him, astonished and silent, hastily examining the paper. It was an injunction the court had issued, restraining him from interfering with the lawful owners of the boat Fearsome, of which he had obtained possession by an irregular and fraudulent sale.

"The officer has just left," Hiram volunteered. "The captain and I were on the dock checking up when the tug came alongside. I thought nothing until they slipped our lines and she was away before I could walk twenty feet," he said, letting his foot drop to the dock despondently.

"Ben, I thought we had a right—she was sold for crew's wages. We had nothing to do with that. We only bid her in," he began, but with no note of censure, although I had attended to that detail.

"We have to know that."

"And has any one the right to take her—isn't that stealing?" he asked, suppressing his fierceness.

"They have her now in their possession and you are enjoined by the court from interfering," I said, half to myself, trying to think if I had heard of any hint of this procedure.

"Ben, do you suppose it is the Becker crowd—have they got wind of our plan, and are they doing this?" he asked, with wonderful self-possession.

"It may be, Hiram, but I doubt it—I am afraid the owners have shown up and are trying to regain their property in this way, alleging an irregular sale. They had to make some such showing to get the injunction."

"What can we do?" he snapped at me, as though becoming incensed at my deliberation.

"My boy—when passing amid rocks the captain must——"

"I beg your pardon, Ben—you can understand," he said quickly.

"Whether they are right or wrong to fight the courts means months' and perhaps years' delay—the only thing possible is to compromise."

"We must eat out of their hand Ben?" he started to heat up anew. We were so intent that we did not notice the approach of a quiet, middle-aged man who asked very politely for "Mr. Strong."

"Mr. Strong, I come from the office of the plaintiffs' attorneys. They have decided that they do not wish to interfere with the unloading of freight for the Government, and we will bring the Fearsome alongside and let the cargo be discharged, provided you or the captain do not go aboard her—that is, not to attempt to dispute our possession."

"I was wondering how they were going to get away with that," Hiram jerked out impulsively.

"No, sir—we don't want to interfere that way—and more, Mr. Strong, I am to say that if you will come to our office possibly something can be arranged."

Then it was that impulsive youth and inexperience burst out, and while I was glad to hear him say it, I knew it was indiscreet. It was perhaps just what the Gold-Beater would have said at his age, and, in his present power, likely to do so now:

"You can tell the attorneys for the plaintiffs to go to hell," he said, springing to his feet. "This is plain stealing and there's a penitentiary for them. No—we won't go aboard; that timber must come ashore," and he posted off to get the crew of longshoremen to work at unloading again.

The quiet, polite man from the attorneys' office remarked to me: "The young man shows considerable mettle. If you are interested you had better come down to the office," handing me the firm's card and departing.

In another half-hour the Fearsome was in full mourning, black longshoremen swarming over it and the edge of the dock, but the tug remained lashed alongside. The long timber, sawed ten by ten and twelve by twelve, seemed to have some means of locomotion as though anxious to get on the wharf. I could see Hiram had a way of getting things done.

During this time I sat on the end of the pile where I had found him and watched the operation, thinking that my job was getting rather strenuous. I was as completely in the dark as to this last move as was Hiram.

Presently he came over to me. He had evidently been both working and thinking hard.

"Say, do you still think this move is made by the owners to get value for their property, or is it a rascally deal to block us?" he asked doggedly.

"I don't know—it may be one or the other, or even both—anyhow it's our next move."

Hiram rubbed his stubbly chin with one hand and then the other, and looked at the Fearsome as though in some way it had become a part of him.

"Somehow I feel it is the owners—perhaps this is the only way they could proceed—of course, she is worth twenty times what we paid—if it is, they ought to be reasonable. The Fearsome lying out there rotting, without power, and the Fearsome with power and at work, is very different, but they may rightfully expect more than the crew's back wages."

I nodded assent, wondering where his line of reasoning would lead.

"Now it may be only money they want—as soon as this load is out of her we can collect two thousand freight—and, Ben—you—you have not said anything lately about that barrel—is it possible to sell that now? Whatever it will bring will come in handy to get time enough to pay this claim—there's lots of timber up there and they want it moved. If we can get enough help I believe we can make two trips a week instead of one. Three thousand a week will soon wipe them out—and sooner or later we've got to pay the railroad for that motor."

"But, Hiram, what about Becker & Co.? We started out to get into their place and we must not lose sight of that now."

"I know—I know—but if these men mean to be fair they must allow us time. Ben, you are a better diplomat; go down and see these attorneys."

"All right, I'll go at once—also I'll see what I can do with the barrel of steel filings," I said, rising with a smile, and digging him in the ribs jokingly—he was in good humor now. But it occurred to me that in my shabby treatment of the prospective buyer I had been as indiscreet as Hiram when he invited the attorneys to brimstone land, whereas they possibly meant well enough.

Hiram did not smile, but I was sure he felt a little relieved at my attitude when I left, intending to hunt up my caller from New York, who emphasized the first syllable of Bos'ton as though born to the manner of speech used in that great eastern port.

On my way back to the rooms to clean up a bit, I decided to see the attorneys first, and was considerably irritated to find the man after our barrel standing at the foot of my stairs, waiting sentry-like for me as though I had committed a crime. Something about the undersized fellow aggravated me, though I knew I had great need of him now. The impulse was strong upon me to put my foot on his stomach and shove him across the street into a curio shop. I was sure he wanted that barrel of color, but I didn't like his face. If I didn't sell it to him I could elsewhere, so I was obdurate. One hundred dollars per pound, cash, current funds in hand, take it or leave it, but say so quick, was all he could get out of me, as I kept thinking all the time of the necessity of washing up and getting over to see the attorneys.

He finally took me to his bankers, who told me his credit was practically unlimited with them, then he said he would take it on my terms. We went to the warehouse, got the barrel and weighed it carefully. He even paid me for the odd ounces and it was not until we went back to the bank and the money was actually in my possession, that I realized the size of the transaction. He then told me it was a very rare color and that only a small amount was required for blending, which was the reason they could pay so much.

It took most of the day, but I did have time to go to the attorney's office, and begin more jockeying for position. I soon learned they wanted money, not the boat, were even willing to take it on the excitement plan, as Hiram suggested. It was worth more but they would take twenty thousand dollars. I thought they were distinctly disappointed when I offered cash.

I obtained some allowance for what we paid at the sale. I then returned to the rooms with a bill of sale for the vessel, knowing it would not be long before Hiram would come. I felt disposed to laugh. Some one's plans had miscarried.

I heard his step on the first stair. He came up this time one step at a time, as though carrying weights on each foot, and when he came in I saw he was tired and hungry, but mystified and still fighting.

He came by way of his room, through the communicating door, into my room, where I was busy looking over a considerable mail, placed a chair back toward me, sat down on it reverse way, resting his arms on the back, let fall his big unshaven chin and looked from under the visor of his cap like a young lion ready to spring.

"Ben, you old dog, what have you been doing?" quick to gather assurance from my attitude. "Just before I left the dock the tug and all the men left, saying they were through so far as they knew."

"Yes, the Fearsome is released, and all claims against it settled."

"Yes—yes—but how did you do it?" he demanded.

Somehow at that moment it occurred to me that it might be best to tell the whole incredible story of the sale of the barrel of color which had been a standing joke between us. It was one of those extremely rare things that could happen only in war times, and I thought the flog of resistance better for him than the stimulant of easy success.

"Well, I induced them to cut their claim down some——"

"Yes—yes," he interrupted; "get to the point—how did you do it?"

"Well," I began again, "this morning I was too busy to tell you that a man came all the way from New York to buy our barrel of steel filings,—he's been waiting about all the time we have been gone on our trip—when I got through with him I had enough money to release the Fearsome and——"

"Ben," he interrupted, his eyes glittering, "you are an infernal—no, I won't say liar, because I don't believe you would lie—but you are romancing now to make me feel good, but——"

"All right, then, have it your way—all you need to know is that the Fearsome is released and you are free to do with her as you like—but just now I advise a shave for you and some stimulating food—for instance a beefsteak as big as——"

"Ben, it's got to be as big as the state of New Hampshire this time and as thick as the crust of the earth——" He interrupted himself by springing over the chair, as I thought to thump me on the back, but instead he grabbed my hand affectionately. He craved relief from a long strain; my information took effect upon him like the champagne he used to take, and at that moment refused to consider what it cost or its ultimate effect.