The three youths of the group who had not taken a hand in the destruction of the toy ship had seemed at first to regret their inability to also fret the young sailor; but the moment that the two ringleaders, Scott Clemmons and Ben Birney, had measured their length upon the ground, falling with a force that seemed to knock the breath out of them for a moment, the trio appeared delighted that they had no hand in the breaking of the little miniature ship, and stepped quickly backward out of reach of the dangerous arm of Mark Merrill.

But Scott Clemmons was not one to submit tamely to a blow, and with his face bruised by a severe contact with the fist of the sailor lad, he arose to his feet, and whipping out his knife rushed upon his foe with a bitter oath, and the threat:

“I’ll have your life for that blow, sea cub!”

Mark Merrill had boldly stood his ground, but seeing his danger he quickly stooped, seized the hull of his broken boat, and with a lightning-like movement brought it down upon the head of his assailant with a force that appeared to kill him, so motionless he lay where he fell.

“Come, mates, he has killed Scott Clemmons, so seize him!” shouted Ben Birney, and he sprung toward the lad, followed by the other three who were made bold by their numbers.

The sailor lad stood at bay now, his face pale, but stern and determined, his eyes ablaze, while in his hands he grasped the hull of his now badly-wrecked ship, making it serve as a weapon of defense.

But ere Ben Birney had reached within arm’s length a form suddenly sprung forward, and a ringing voice cried:

“Back, you young cutthroats, for I’ll take a hand in this unequal game.”

The four youths shrank back as though they had run against a stone wall, for the sailor who had addressed Mark Merrill upon landing now confronted them, and more, he held a revolver in his hand, the muzzle covering the group, his finger upon the trigger.

A crowd had now gathered, and among them the village constable, to whom Ben Birney cried:

“Officer Roe, that fisher boy has killed Scott Clemmons—we saw him do it.”

“It isn’t so, officer, for the fellow is not dead, only stunned; and, besides, he attacked this brave lad with a knife, after the young scamps had smashed his boat to pieces. Arrest them, I say,” said the sailor.

Constable Roe was a politician, and owed his place to the influence of the fathers of Scott Clemmons and Ben Birney, so, of course, he saw the situation through the spectacles of self-interest.

The sailor was a stranger in town, and Mark Merrill was but a poor fisher lad, so he said:

“He meant to kill young Master Scott, if he didn’t do it, so I’ll arrest him, and I’ll take you in, too, as I saw you level a loaded pistol at these young men.”

The sailor laughed, and answered:

“You old fool, the weapon was just bought uptown, and there’s no load in it; but trot me off to the lockup if you wish, only let this poor lad go, as he has come for a doctor to see his sick mother.”

“No, I’ll lock you both up, I guess, if the judge has left his court—oh! Master Scott, you have come round, I see,” and the constable turned to Scott Clemmons, who just then arose to his feet, but with his face bleeding, and a dazed look in his eyes.

“He tried to murder me, Roe,” he said deliberately.

“The young scamp lies like a marine, for he tried to do the murdering; but take us to the judge, officer, who, I guess, has got more sense than you have,” and the sailor laughed.

The angry constable grasped an arm of the sailor and the lad, and with a crowd at their heels led them away toward the court, in the rear of which was the jail.

The judge had just finished his last case for the day, but took his seat, willing to hear the case, for he heard several remark that it was nothing but persecution.

The constable made his report, and the sailor told his story just as he had witnessed it, Mark Merrill remaining silent and calm until called upon to testify.

Then he told his version of the affair in an unmoved, dignified manner that impressed all, adding:

“If I am to be punished, your honor, I beg of you to accept my pledge to return, after I have sent a physician to my mother.”

Paying no attention to this remark the judge asked:

“Are there any witnesses in court who are willing to testify in favor of these two prisoners?”

“I am, Judge Miller, if you will accept me as a witness, for I saw and heard all.”

All started as a clear, sweet voice came from the rear of the crowd, and there appeared a young girl of fourteen, her beautiful face crimsoned from the glances turned upon her, but her manner firm and half-defiant.

“Ah! Miss Virgene, it is you, is it? Yes, indeed, I’ll accept your testimony with pleasure,” was the pleasant response of the judge, and the crowd fell aside to allow the pretty maiden to go to the front.