desperation suddenly blazed in her blue eyes. Standing at her
side, Wilbur could hear her teeth grinding upon each other. She
was blind to all danger, animated only by a sense of injustice and
imposition.

Hoang uttered a sentence in Cantonese. One of the coolies jumped
forward, and Moran's fist met him in the face and brought him to
his knees. Then came the rush Wilbur had foreseen. He had just
time to catch a sight of Moran at grapples with Hoang when a
little hatchet glinted over his head. He struck out savagely into
the thick of the group--and then opened his eyes to find Moran
washing the blood from his hair as he lay on the deck with his
head in the hollow of her arm. Everything was quiet. The beach-
combers were gone.

"Hello, what--what--what is it?" he asked, springing to his feet,
his head swimming and smarting. "We had a row, didn't we? Did
they hurt you? Oh, I remember; I got a cut over the head--one of
their hatchet men. Did they hurt you?"

"They got the loot," she growled. "Filthy vermin! And just to
make everything pleasant, the schooner's sinking."



VIII

A RUN FOR LAND