eft are true an'
law-abidin'. Cap'n, we'll get under-way, now."

When the new prisoners had been disposed of, Tom led the way to the
deck, and after half an hour's hard work, the Sweepstakes was got clear
of the bushes, the sails were hoisted, and the Crusoe men and their
captives were moving swiftly down the creek toward the bay. While the
governor and Tom were coiling down the ropes and clearing up the deck,
the latter repeated what he had said to Johnny Harding; and after a few
objections from Sam, who did not want to be bothered long with the
prisoners, it was decided that Johnny ought to be punished, and that the
best way to do it would be to put him ashore on some desert island in
the middle of the ocean, and leave him to take his chances of finding
his way back to Newport. The captain could not rest easy until he had
communicated this decision to Johnny; so when every thing was made snug,
and Friday had been stationed on the forecastle to act as lookout, he
ran down into the cabin. At the foot of the ladder, he came to a sudden
stop, and stood with his neck stretched out, his mouth open, and his
eyes almost starting from their sockets. In the middle of the cabin was
a small hatchway, which led into a little store-room where 'Squire
Thompson kept his nets and other fishing-tackle stored away, and that
hatchway was open, and a pair of evil looking eyes, that belonged to
Sanders the burglar, were peering over the combings. The Crusoe men were
not rid of the robbers after all.

CHAPTER XXI.

CONCLUSION.

Had the eyes that were peering at him over the combings of the hatchway
belonged to his father instead of Sanders, Tom could not have been more
astounded. His first impulse was to run on deck and report the matter to
the governor, but when he had taken a second thought he knew that would
be of no use, for, before the crew could be collected, the burglars
would have ample time to come out of the store-room, and if they once
gained a footing on deck they would soon square accounts with the Crusoe
men. The skipper knew that Sanders must be driven back again at once,
and that he must do it.

"You young rascal!" said the burglar, placing his hands against the
hatch, which he had lifted with his head, "we're going to settle with
you now. I wouldn't be in your boots for a shilling."

Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when an incident happened that
confounded the robber and not a little astonished the p