through his veins; he tingled with a fierce, illogical desire to
strike the fellow on the mouth; his soul stirred with a
premonition of conflict, and the desire for it. And yet, on the
surface of things at least, the man had been nothing more than
rude; as Cleggett watched the machine make off towards an
isolated road house on the bayside he wondered at the quick
intensity of his own antipathy. Unconsciously he flexed his
wrist in his characteristic gesture. Scarcely knowing that he
spoke, he murmured:

"That man gets on my nerves."

That man was destined to do something more than get on Cleggett's
nerves before the adventures of the Jasper B. were ended.


CHAPTER IV

A BAD MAN TO CROSS

The isolated road house on the bay was a nondescript, jumbled,
dilapidated-looking assemblage of structures, rather than one
house. It was known simply as Morris's. It stood a few hundred
yards west of the end of the canal which opened into the bay and
was about a quarter of a mile from the Jasper B.

The canal itself was broad, straight, low-banked, and about
three-quarters of a mile in length. The town had thrown out a
few ranks of cottages in the direction of the canal. But these
were all summer bungalows, occupied only from June until the