r saying,--

"Ah, there's that basket Jemmy found's mornin'. Go and take it up to
the Hoze."

"He needn't go to-night, need he?" said Mrs Shackle.

"You mind your own business," said the farmer fiercely. "Be off, boy."

Ram put on his red cap, took the basket, and trotted off toward the
Hoze, while Mrs Shackle sighed, for she knew that something particular
must be on the way, or Ram would not have been sent off, and her husband
have prepared to go out directly after.

"Oh dear me, dear me, dear me!" said the plump, comfortable-looking
woman, as the door closed on her husband's back. "If he would only keep
to his cows and sheep!"

"Here," said the farmer, reopening the door, "be off to bed. Ramillies
need not know that I'm gone out."

"No, dear. But do take care of yourself."

"Yah!"

Bang went the door, and Mrs Shackle, after putting a few things
straight, went off obediently to bed, troubling in no wise about the
door being left on the latch.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

Archy Raystoke was fast asleep, dreaming about being once more on board
the cutter, with the sun shining full in his eyes, because he was lying
on the deck, right in everybody's road, and Gurr the master was scolding
him for it in a way which was very disrespectful to an officer and a
gentleman, while the men grouped around grinned.

He was not surprised, for somehow Mr Brough was not there, and Gurr had
assumed the command of the cutter, and was playing the part of smuggler
and pirate, and insulting him, whom he addressed again: "Get up!"

Archy leaped to his feet, and saw at a glance that it was not the sun,
but the light of a lanthorn shining in his eyes, while, before he could
do more than realise that several men were standing close to him, half
of a sack was drawn-down over his head and shoulders, and a thin rope
was twisted round and round his arms, fastening him securely, and only
leaving his hands free.

"What are you going to do?" he shouted, after a vain struggle to free
himself, and his voice sounded muffled and thick through the heavy sack.

"Pitch you off the cliff if you make so much as a sound," said a gruff
voice by his car. "Keep quiet, and you won't be hurt."

The lad's heart beat heavily, and he felt hot and half suffocated.

"Do you want to smother me?" he said. "Can't breathe."

"Slit the back of the sack, lad," said the same gruff voice, and there
was a sharp cutting noise heard, as a breathing-hole wa