“G-G-Guns again!” said he; “I t-told you s-so!”

“Come out!” I said, “come out quick!  It’s all right,—­these are my friends.  That is Captain Bannister.”

“The one wh-who owns this b-boat?”

“Yes.”

“D-Do you c-call th-that all r-right?”

“Yes; we can explain, and fix it up.  Come out of there,—­we have got to tell them about Snider, and get them to help us drive him off.”

The “White Rabbit” passed us as if we were standing still.  One by one all those on board turned and waved their hands at me,—­all except Jimmy Toppan, who was having too good a time with the sails to care for any person on earth.  Presently they took in the spinnaker and came about.

I persuaded Spike to believe that these people were neither police nor crooks, nor anything else dangerous.  I got him to come about, while I dropped the peak of the sail.  We made no more attempt to escape, and in a few minutes the “White Rabbit” was alongside.

Then there had to be explanations.  Everybody asked questions at once.

“What are you doing here, Sam?”

“Where’d you find the ’Hoppergrass’?”

“Why aren’t you at Rogers’s Island?”

“Why didn’t you come back to Lanesport?”

“Why did you try to run away from us?”

“Who are those fellows in the dory?”

The last question struck me as the one to be answered.  But we had to keep an eye on the weather,—­the worst of the squall was passing off to the north-east, and going out to sea, but it was still breezy, and rather ticklish work for two boats so close together.  We dropped our sail, while the “White Rabbit” took in everything but the jib.

When we were near enough to talk comfortably, I pointed to the dory, which was only a stone’s throw distant.

“Those are the men—­the Gold Company people—­from Rogers’s Island.  They’ve been shooting at us with a rifle!”

“Shooting?  What for?”

“Is there a feller named Caleb Snider there?” asked the Captain, reaching again for his shot-gun.

“Yes, he—­”

But Mr. Snider arose in the dory to speak for himself.  He had on his black “swallow-tail” still, and his “Bless you!” manner.  His rifle did not appear.

“James!” he called to me, “James!  You have treated us badly.  Theft, James, theft—­”

But Captain Bannister cut in with a scream.

“Theft! you old sarpent, you!  Theft!  I like to hear you talk about it!  You don’t know me, but I know you!  Where’s that three hundred dollars I put into your Monte Cristo mine in ’78?  You old buzzard!  I heard tell there was a feller of your name runnin’ some gold-brick scheme at Rogerses’, an’ I cal’lated I’d come over an’ see you.  Why,—­”

The Professor evidently thought that they would do well to leave these troubled waters.  He jammed the tiller down, and tried to sheer away.  It was the most unfortunate moment possible.