Bug-eye
come back if you hadn't."

"You're fine fellows and all right to stand up for your captain,"
replied Drew; "and you'll find that you've not only been on the right
side, but on the winning side. However, we've got to hurry. Where's a
knife?"

"You'll find one in that fellow's belt," said Whitlock, pointing to one
of the mutineers.

Drew secured it and cut the ropes that bound the prisoners. They fell
to rubbing their arms and legs to get the blood to circulating.

"As soon as you can move about, get the dinghy ready," directed Drew.
"Stow in it all the provisions it will hold together with some casks of
water. And you'd better bring Wah Lee and the Jap along. I've got to
go to the captain's cabin, but I'll be back before you're ready.
Smart, now, for we don't know what minute Ditty may take a notion to
come aboard."

Drew hurried aft and into his own room where he quickly got into some
clothing and bandaged his crushed foot. Then he pushed into the
captain's stateroom. There was no light there, but he dropped on his
hands and knees and felt under the berth.

His hand touched the sharp corner of a box. He dragged it out and
hurried up the companionway where he could examine it by the light of a
lantern. He recognized at once the label of a well-known ammunition
company, and knew that these must be the cartridges of which the
captain had spoken. That box perhaps spelled salvation for the
treasure seekers.

With his heart throbbing with elation and tightly clutching the
precious box, Drew hastened to the rail where the men were preparing to
launch the boat. Wah Lee and Namco stood by, blinking with true
Oriental stolidity. They betrayed neither eagerness nor reluctance,
nor was there the slightest trace of curiosity. For them it was all in
the day's work.

The seamen heaped in all the provisions and water that the boat would
hold and still leave room for its occupants. Drew advised muffling the
oars, and with barely a sound the craft moved toward the shore.
Heavily laden at is was, the progress was slow. They kept cautiously
out of the zone of light cast by the mutineers' campfire, which now,
however, was dying out. Finally the craft grated on the sand.

Under Drew's whispered directions, the men shouldered the stores, and
the party commenced the toilsome march inland to the little fort.

It was fully midnight when they were challenged by the sentinels at the
edge of the wood.

"Ahoy,