r!"

And he laid a hand on the arm of each of his victims, chuckling and
smoking as he looked down on their puny efforts to escape.

"Turn out yer pockets, nobs!" said he, giving them a slight admonitory
shake.

"I haven't got a sovereign," said Heathcote.

Dick did not even condescend to plead; he fell headlong on his huge
opponent, shouting, in the midst of his blows--

"Let us go, do you hear? I know your name; you're Tom White, the
boatman, and I'll get you locked up if you don't."

But even this valiant threat, and the still more valiant struggles of
the two boys, availed nothing with the nautical highwayman, who smoked,
and shook the bones of his wretched captives, till they were fain to
call for mercy.

The mercy was dearly bought. Dick's half-sovereign, Heathcote's twelve
shillings, the penknife with the gouge, among them did not make up the
price. One by one their pockets were turned inside out, and whatever
there took the fancy of the noble mariner went into the ransom.
Pencils, india-rubber, keys, and even a photograph of Dick's mother were
impounded; while resistance, or even expostulation only added bone-
shaking into the bargain; till, at last, the unhappy lambs were glad to
assist at their own fleecing, in order to expedite their release.

"There yer are," said Tom, when at last the operation was over, "that's
about all I want of yer, my hearties; and if yer want the road to
Templeton, that's she, and good-night to yer, and thank yer kindly.
Next time yer want a sail, don't forget to give an honest jack tar a
turn. Knows my name, do yer? Blessed if I ever see you afore."

"You're a beastly, low, tipsy thief," shouted Dick, from a respectful
distance, "and we'll get you paid out for this."

And not waiting for a reply, the two unfortunates, less heavily weighted
than ever, started down the road, snorting with rage and indignation and
full of thoughts of the direst revenge.

Nemesis was coming down on them at last with a vengeance!

Two miles they went before speech came to the relief of their wounded
feelings.

"It's transportation," said Heathcote.

"Cat-o'-nine-tails too," said Dick.

"Jolly good job," said Heathcote.

And they went on another mile.

Then it occurred to them this was not the road along which they had
driven in the morning; and once more the villainy of Tom White broke
upon them in all its blackness.

"He's sent us upon the wrong road!" said Heathcote, beginnin