Then the man with the black mustache smiled ingratiatingly.
"H'lo, boys!" he invited. "Won't you come 'board?"
"No, thank you," declined Budge. "When did you get here?"
"We come last night, from ... there," with a vague gesture toward the west. "We fish, we lobster. You live on dis island ... yes? We stay here, too. We be good friend. Wait!"
Diving below, he brought up a long-necked black bottle.
The man looked disappointed. He muttered a few words to his companion. The latter scowled. Then they drank from the bottle and replaced it below. The younger man began talking again.
"We plenty lath on board. We make one ... two hundred trap. We stop all summer. Good friend, eh?"
The program announced had taken him somewhat aback. He hardly knew what to reply. Pushing the pea-pod off, he turned her toward the channel.
"You livea 'cross dis island ... yes?" shouted the man after him. "We come see you to-night!"
Budge made no response to this advance. Steady, rapid pulling soon brought the boys again into open water.
"Well, what do you think now?" asked Percy.
"Wait till we hear what Jim says," was Lane's reply.
The remaining traps were hauled in double-quick time and they made a bee-line for Sprowl's Cove. Spurling and Throppy came in at noon on the _Barracouta_. Jim's brows knitted when he heard of their new neighbors.
"What should you say they were?" he inquired.
"Don't know," answered Lane. "Only I'm sure they're not Yankees."
"That's against the law. Suspicious, too. So they intend to build a camp here and spend the summer?"
The anxious furrows in Jim's forehead deepened. He brought his fist down hard on the _Barracouta's_ cabin.
"Boys," he said, firmly, "they can't stop here. There aren't lobsters enough on these ledges for them and for us. What they get we won't. They've got to pull up those traps and get out just as quick as we can make 'em."
The others exchanged looks of surprise. Though they knew Jim's absolute fairness and sense of right, they could not help feeling that his decision was a harsh one. Jim read their faces.
"I know what you're thinking, boys. It seems as if I had no right to drive 'em off. But suppose any one of you owned a piece of woods on the mainland, and a stranger should come and begin to chop the trees down without your permission. How long would you stand it? The same principle holds good here, even if it is twenty-five miles offshore. This is my uncle Tom's island. He's been paying taxes on it for years. His living comes from it and the waters round it. He's leased it to us on shares, and we've got to look out for his interest as well as our own.