startled us. We looked about, but saw nothing and returned to our
work. An instant later there was a similar sharp thud and the
gunwale splintered between Charley's body and mine.

"That's remarkably like a bullet, lad," he said reflectively. "And
it's a long shot Big Alec's making."

"And he's using smokeless powder," he concluded, after an
examination of the mile-distant shore. "That's why we can't hear
the report."

I looked at the shore, but could see no sign of Big Alec, who was
undoubtedly hidden in some rocky nook with us at his mercy. A
third bullet struck the water, glanced, passed singing over our
heads, and struck the water again beyond.

"I guess we'd better get out of this," Charley remarked coolly.
"What do you think, lad?"

I thought so, too, and said we didn't want the line anyway.
Whereupon we cast off and hoisted the spritsail. The bullets
ceased at once, and we sailed away, unpleasantly confident that Big
Alec was laughing at our discomfiture.

And more than that, the next day on the fishing wharf, where we
were inspecting nets, he saw fit to laugh and sneer at us, and this
before all the fishermen. Charley's face went black with anger;
but beyond promising Big Alec that in the end he would surely land
him behind the bars, he controlled himself and said nothing. The
King of the Greeks made his boast that no fish patrol had ever