etting its errand fell
heavily. After a few spasmodic twitchings of the eyelids and
uneasy grunts, Chris slumbered.

Captain Magnus was of tougher fiber. But he, too, grew silent and
there was a certain meal-sack limpness about his attitude. His
dulled eyes stared dreamily. All at once with a jerk he roused
himself, turned over, and administered to the sleeping Chris a prod
with his large boot.

"Hey, there, wake up! What right you got to be asleep at the
switch?" But Chris only breathed more heavily.

Captain Magnus himself heaved a tremendous yawn, settled back in
greater comfort against his sustaining tree, and closed his eyes.
I waited, counting the seconds by the beating of the blood in my
ears. In the background Cookie hovered apprehensively. Plainly he
would go on hovering unless loud snores from the pirates gave him
assurance. For myself, I sat fingering my penknife, wondering
whether I ought to rush over and plunge it into the sleepers'
throats. This would be heroic and practical, but unpleasant. If,
on the other hand, I merely tried to free the prisoners and Captain
Magnus woke, what then? The palm where they were tied was a dozen
yards from me, much nearer to the guards, and within range of even
their most languid glance. Beyond the prisoners was Miss Browne,
glaring uncomprehendingly over the edge of her book. There was no
help in Miss Browne.

I left my seat and stole on feet which seemed to stir every leaf
and twig to loud complaint toward the captive pair. Tense,
motionless, with burning eyes, they waited. There was a movement
from Captain Magnus; he yawned, turned and muttered. I stood
stricken, my heart beating with loud thumps against my ribs. But
the captain's eyes remained closed.

"Virginia--quick, Virginia!" Dugald Shaw was stretching out his
bound hands to me, and I had dropped on my knees before him and
begun to cut at the knotted cords. They were tough strong cords,
and I was hacking at them feverishly when something bounded across
the clearing and flung itself upon me. Crusoe, of course!--and
wild with the joy of reunion. I strangled a cry of dismay, and
with one hand tried to thrust him off while I cut through the rope
with the other.

"Down, Crusoe!" I kept desperately whispering. But Crusoe was
unused to whispered orders. He kept bounding up on me, intent to
fulfil an unachieved ambition of licking my ear. Cuthbert Vane
tried, under his breath, to lure him