iled out into damp, cool,
midnight air.

Stars filled the sky. A gentle wind was blowing from the southwest.
Nothing broke the stillness save the low murmur of the sea on the
ledges. Without hesitation Jim led his party at a dog-trot eastward
along the beach. When he reached the rocks he halted.

"We'll go straight across to the Sly Hole," he said. "I know a short cut
through the woods. Either they've killed a sheep already and are
carrying it down to their boat or they've frightened the animals so that
it'll take some time to get near enough to 'em again to shoot. What
sticks me is why they don't use a shot-gun instead of a revolver. Now,
boys! Right up over the rocks!"

It was a rough climb, but soon they were on the top of the bluff.
Unerringly Jim led them to the entrance of a narrow trail penetrating
the scrubby growth.

"Look out for your eyes! Don't follow too close!"

The pliant, whipping branches emphasized his caution. By the time the
party gained the north shore their hands and faces were badly scratched.

The little basin of the Sly Hole lay below. Looking down, they could
make out a dark object at the water's edge.

"There's their boat!" whispered Jim. "They're still on the island."

_Spang!_

Another report from the pasture beyond the evergreens echoed emphatic
confirmation to his statement. Jim took two steps toward the sound, then
stopped.

"Not yet! I know a better way. Stay here and keep watch."

He scrambled down to the beach. There was a slight grating of gravel,
and presently the boat was afloat. Noiselessly, under Spurling's skilful
sculling, it slipped out of the cove and vanished behind the ledges to
the east. Before long Jim was back with his companions.

"I've made their dory fast in a little gulch among the rockweed," said
he. "They'd have a hard time to find it unless somebody told 'em where
it is. They can't get away without having a reckoning with us."

_Spang-spang-spang!_

Three reports in quick succession. Jim laughed.

"Wasting a lot of cartridges! Must want that mutton pretty bad! Either
they're awful poor shots or they've made the sheep so wild they can't
get anywhere near 'em. There's their vessel!"

The boys' eyes followed his pointing finger. Not far offshore were the
vague outlines of a schooner.

"All black!" said Jim. "Not a light of any sort! That looks bad. Besides
being against the law, it shows there's some reason why they don't want
to be recognized. I