them, and Captain Bland said:

"'Pears like the new owner is making himself perfectly at home."

Inside the factory the Frenchman Delom, who had remained behind to make
good his claim to the confiscated property of his rival, was too busily
at work to pay any attention to the disparaging remarks and muttered
threats of those whom he had forbidden to enter. He had collected all
the tools and lighter machinery into a pile ready for removal, and was
now marking with his own stencil such of the filled cases as remained
on the lower floor.

So dreaded was the power of France on that English coast that up to
that moment no one had dared interfere with him, but Cabot Grant was
not troubled by a fear of France or any other nation, and, as he
realised what was going on, he sprang into the building. The next
instant our young football player had that Frenchman by the collar and
was rushing him towards the doorway. From it he projected him so
violently that the man measured his length on the ground a full rod
beyond it.

Livid with rage at this assault, the Frenchman scrambled to his feet,
whipped out an ugly-looking knife, and started towards Cabot with
murderous intent.

[Illustration: Livid with rage, the Frenchman whipped out an
ugly-looking knife.]

"No you don't," shouted Captain Bland, and in another moment Monsieur
Delom's arms were pinioned behind him, while he struggled helplessly in
the iron grasp of the Yankee skipper.

"I think we'd better tie him," remarked the latter quietly. "'Tain't
safe to let a varmint like this loose on any community."

White produced a rope and was stepping forward with it, but Cabot took
it from him, saying: "For the sake of your family you mustn't have
anything to do with this affair." So he and Captain Bland bound the
Frenchman hand and foot, took away his knife, and carried him for
present safe keeping to a small, dark building that was used for the
storage of fish oil. Here they locked him in, and left him to meditate
at leisure on the fate of those who have done to them, what they would
do to others if they could.

"Well," said Captain Bland, at the conclusion of this incident, "you
young fellers always seem to have something interesting on hand; what
are you going to do next? Are you going to skin out, or wait for the
return of the French and English fleets? I'd like to know, 'cause I
want to be getting a move on; but if there's going to be any more fun I
expect I'll