d-bye, Peter. He's sorry he can't go with us,
but he'll be having business on the Canadian frontier. He feels that the
score is about even with you for that business of the letter in the
forest, and that later on he'll attend also to the hunter and the
Onondaga."

"And I wish you a pleasant life on the West Indian plantations," said
Garay. "They still buy white labor there in both the French and British
islands. It does not matter to me to which the captain sells you, for in
either case it means a life of hard labor in the sugar cane. Few ever
escape, and you never will."

Robert turned quite sick. So this was the plan. To sell him into slavery
in the West Indies. Kidnapping was not at all uncommon then in both the
Old World and the New, and they seemed to have laid their plans well. As
the slaver had said, there was not one chance in a hundred of another
storm. Again the captain read his mind.

"You don't like the prospect," he said, "and I'll admit myself that it's
not a cheerful one. I've changed my opinion of you, Peter. I thought
you'd make a fine sailor and that you might become a mate some day, but
I've seen a light. You're not a good sailor at all. The stuff's not in
you. But you're strong and hearty and you'll do well in the sugar cane.
If the sun's too hot and your back bends too much just reflect that for
a white man it's not a long life and your troubles will be over, some
day."

Robert's old indomitable spirit flamed up.

"I never expect to see a West Indian plantation, not on this journey, at
least," he said. "You and that miserable spy boast that you took me out
of the very center of my friends, and I tell you in reply that if I have
enemies who follow me I also have friends who are truer in their
friendship than you are in your hate, and they'll come for me."

"That's the spirit. I never heard another lad sling words in the noble
fashion you do. You'll live a deal longer on the plantations than most
of 'em. Now, Garay, I think you can go. It will be the last farewell for
you two."

The exulting spy left the close little place, and Robert felt that a
breath of hate went with him. His feet disappeared up a narrow little
stair, and the slaver cut the cords that bound Robert.

"You'll be locked in here," he said, "and it's not worth while to damage
good property by keeping it tied up too long."

"That's so," said Robert, trying to preserve a light manner. "You want
to keep me strong and active for