her and chamois. He pulled
on it gently, but it refused to budge.

"Lift his head a little," he said, and Peterson started to do as
requested. But the movement, gentle as it was, caused Larry to open his
eyes.

"Wha--what are you doing here?" stammered the young second mate, when,
waiting for no more words, Peterson clapped a dirty hand over his mouth.

"Keep still, you! If you no keep still I hit you good, yes!"

"Confound the luck," muttered Shamhaven. "I didn't want him to know what
we were up to."

Larry began to struggle and with an effort threw aside the hand over his
mouth.

"Le--let up!" he spluttered. "I want you----Help!"

"Shut up!" cried Shamhaven, fiercely, and struck him a swinging blow in
the temple. Another blow from Peterson followed, and then, with flashing
lights darting through his brain, Larry lost consciousness.

Both men bent over him to see if he would move. When he lay as still as
if dead they looked at each other with satisfaction.

"He won't bother us any more--at least, not for awhile," was Shamhaven's
comment.

"Quick, de money belt!" came from Peterson, and as he raised up Larry's
head, Shamhaven secured it and stowed it away in the bosom of his shirt.
"You no keep him!" he went on, in alarm, showing that he did not trust
his companion in crime.

"We'll divide up afterwards," said Shamhaven, briefly. "Now to locate
the captain's little pile."

Both tiptoed their way into Captain Ponsberry's stateroom. Here there
was a small safe, with the door closed.

"A safe, eh?" said Shamhaven. "Wonder if we can open it?"

He knelt down and tried to work the combination lock. The safe was old
and out of order and the captain had had the combination lock made as
simple as possible in consequence. Soon there came a click, followed by
another, and the bolts shot back.

"Luck is with us!" cried Shamhaven.

"Dare is de leetle pag," came from Peterson, and reaching into the safe
he drew the article forth. There was a slip string at the top which he
pulled apart.

"Gold!" he cried. "See--dirty--forty bieces of gold!" And then he shut
the bag again, and placed it into his own shirt bosom.

"Remember, half of that is mine," came sharply from Shamhaven. He
fancied there might be more in the bag than in the money belt.

"Yes,--an' haf de money-pelt money ist mine, yes," returned Peterson.

"Right you are, Peterson. Now to get away from the ship."

"Let us lock Russell in de stateroom fir