d,--he
headed the sloop down upon Joe. The latter made one tremendous spurt,
then gave up in despair and hauled in his oars. French Pete let go the
main-sheet, lost steerageway as he rounded up alongside the motionless
skiff, and dragged Joe out.

"Keep mum," 'Frisco Kid whispered to him while the irate Frenchman was
busy fastening the painter. "Don't talk back. Let him say all he wants
to, and keep quiet. It 'll be better for you."

But Joe's Anglo-Saxon blood was up, and he did not heed.

"Look here, Mr. French Pete, or whatever your name is," he commenced; "I
give you to understand that I want to quit, and that I 'm going to quit.
So you 'd better put me ashore at once. If you don't I 'll put you in
prison, or my name 's not Joe Bronson."

'Frisco Kid waited the outcome fearfully. French Pete was aghast. He was
being defied aboard his own vessel--and by a boy! Never had such a thing
been heard of. He knew he was committing an unlawful act in detaining him,
but at the same time he was afraid to let him go with the information he
had gathered concerning the sloop and its occupation. The boy had spoken
the unpleasant truth when he said he could send him to prison. The only
thing for him to do was to bully him.

"You will, eh?" His shrill voice rose wrathfully. "Den you come too. You
row ze boat last-a night--answer me dat! You steal ze iron--answer me
dat! You run away--answer me dat! And den you say you put me in jail? Bah!"

"But I did n't know," Joe protested.

"Ha, ha! Dat is funny. You tell dat to ze judge; mebbe him laugh, eh?"

"I say I did n't," he reiterated manfully. "I did n't know I 'd shipped
along with a lot of thieves."

'Frisco Kid winced at this epithet, and had Joe been looking at him he
would have seen a red flush mount to his face.

"And now that I do know," he continued, "I wish to be put ashore. I don't
know anything about the law, but I do know something of right and wrong;
and I 'm willing to take my chance with any judge for whatever wrong I
have done--with all the judges in the United States, for that matter.
And that 's more than you can say, Mr. Pete."

"You say dat, eh? Vaire good. But you are one big t'ief--"

"I 'm not--don't you dare call me that again!" Joe's face was pale, and he
was trembling--but not with fear.

"T'ief!" the Frenchman taunted back.

"You lie!"

Joe had not been a boy among boys for nothing. He knew the penalty which
attached itself to the words he ha