Captain Barney was tingling with fear. Dan knew it, and smiled. It
was not often that any one had the privilege of seeing Captain Barney
frightened.

As the tug veered to starboard to round Governor's Island the tow-line
slued to port and thence quickly to starboard. The rowboat was snapped
over on her gunwales and the water poured in like a mill-race. A roar
of an oath escaped Captain Barney's lips, but before he had closed them
the boat had righted.

"Shut up, will you?" hissed Dan. "Do you want them to discover and
drown us? Ugh--she skated clean over that ice-cake!"

"You've got me out here to kill me, Dan," whimpered Captain Barney.
"'A Christmas present!' I see--now."

"Will you keep still?" whispered Dan. "If they hear us, you'll find
out who wants to kill you. The root she took that time was nothing.
There'll be worse ones--this boat is not through rooting yet."

Neither was she. Ahead the tug loomed, a great dark shape; and the
pulse of her engines was lost in the roiling water rising from the
screw blades and the hiss of it as it raced by the row-boat. There was
a dim blur of light from one of the after-cabin portholes and the
shadow of figures passing to and fro inside could be seen. The decks
were deserted. It was too cold to brave the night wind except under
necessity--a night wind that cut through the pea-jackets and ear-caps
and thick woollen gloves of the two men in the rowboat. Captain Barney
felt a fierce resentment that the _Quinn's_ men should be so warm and