, returning a few seconds later
with two muskets, and these he carried with him well forward.

I strained my eyes in vain for a view of the canoe, which should be
coming right fast, with a favoring current, and had not yet made her
out when Darius hailed:

"In the boat there! Whereabouts are our people?"

The old man had disguised his voice, and the traitor must have
believed that we were a party of British coming to join those whom he
had piloted, for he paddled alongside fearlessly, as he replied:

"Up the river half a mile or so."

"Can you show us the way?"

"Ay, that I can; but it will delay me in--"

He ceased speaking very suddenly, for at that moment Jerry
incautiously came toward the port rail, and even though the night was
dark, it was possible to see that he was neither a British soldier nor
sailor.

Quickly he seized the paddle to shove off; but Darius thrust the
muzzle of a musket in his very face, as he cried sharply:

"Pass up your painter, or I'll shoot! Quick, or your life is gone in
another second!"

Elias Macomber was a coward, as we knew full well, but I never
believed he would give in quite as readily as he did. He passed up the
painter as meekly as any cooing dove, and when Darius ordered him to
come over the rail, he made all haste to obey the command.

When we gathered around the cur, however, for all of us were so eager
that we could not keep out of sight any longer, and he saw who had
captured him, he let go a cry of anger that was like unto the whoof of
a bear, as he struck out with both fists savagely.

He would have showed better sense had he taken matters with a bit more
grace, for before he could land a blow on either of us, Darius floored
him with the butt-end of the musket, and during a minute or two he
laid like one dead.

"You struck too hard!" I cried in alarm, for even though the man was a
traitor, it seemed terrible to take a human life.

"Not a bit of it," the old sailor said quietly as he set about lashing
the fellow's arms and legs. "He ain't the kind that can be killed so
easily. Get off the hatch, for we must have him out of sight before
coming up to the mill."

[Illustration: "Pass up your painter, or I'll shoot!" Cried Darius.
Page 56.]

Five minutes later our prisoner was snugly stowed aft, near the cabin
bulkhead, and we had brought the pungy to anchor lest she over-run the
port we counted on making.

CHAPTER IV.

A LIVELY TUSSLE.

Darius