Looking up he saw a bearded face thrust out from the bank; and almost instinctively he knew that the prediction of his companion was about to come true.

Was this the owner of the dead brute that lay not more than eighty or one hundred feet away?

Thad felt a sudden cold chill.  He was certainly not a coward by nature, and had proved this at various times in the past; still, there was an ugly scowl on that red-bearded face that surely stood for new trouble.

And Thad was glad that he had insisted upon keeping the gun ashore with him while he performed his end of the duty of transporting the wood to the shanty-boat.

He also remembered that it was close beside him, where he could lay a hand on it quickly if need be.

Then the man spoke, and his voice was just as disagreeable as his face seemed to be—­a heavy rumble with more or less of threat under the surface.

“So, here ye be, hey?  Wot business hed yer ter shoot up my dawg; tell me that, consarn ye?”

Perhaps he said something much stronger than the concluding words; but that does not matter.

Thad gave the signal to his chum to pull, for he had the last of the wood stocked in the dinghy.  Then he turned his attention to the man who had addressed him.

If his face was white it was only natural; but his voice did not quiver in the least.

“I admit that I shot the dog.  He was trying to kill my friend, who was busy cutting wood.  I’d do it again, and so would any one.  What business have you letting such a savage dog loose?”

Even while talking he edged a trifle toward the spot where the gun was standing against the bank.  The man might take a notion to slide down, with the intention of attacking him, and Thad wanted to make sure of his line of defense, like a wise general always should.

“Hey! wot’s thet ye say?  I got a boat just a leettle way below hyer, an’ my dorg’s got a right ter run loose.  Ye owns up ye shooted ther pore critter, does yer?  I gotter a notion right now ter give yer sumpin ter pay back fur wot ye done!”

He actually threw himself over the edge of the little bluff, being angered by such talk on the part of a boy.

Maurice gave a shout from the boat.

“Look out, there, what you’re doing, or I’ll shoot you full of holes!” was what he whooped; but since the only weapon they possessed was at that moment ashore it can be understood that he was only seeking to fill the man with sudden consternation.

Perhaps it did work to some extent, for the big fellow rather hesitated as he cast an apprehensive glance out toward the shanty-boat.

Those few seconds were worth much to Thad.

He had started for the place where the gun stood, and which, unfortunately, happened to be close to where the man had landed.  Indeed, had the fellow been aware of the fact in the beginning he might easily have cut Thad off from his coveted weapon.