d night in the schooner.

A sailor brought him his supper, the slaver failing to reappear, and
soon afterward he fell asleep. He made no surmise where they were the
next morning, as he had no way of gauging their speed during the night,
but he was allowed to go about under guard below decks for an hour or
two. The slaver came down the ladder and gave him the greetings of the
day.

"You will see, Peter," he said, "that I'm a much kinder man than Garay.
He would restrict your food, but I not only give you plenty of it, I
also allow you exercise, very necessary and refreshing to youth. I'm
sorry I'll have to shut you up again soon, but in the afternoon we'll
reach New York, and I must keep you away from the temptations of the
great town."

Robert would have given much to be allowed upon the deck and to look at
the high shores, but he could not sink his pride enough to ask for the
privilege, and, when the time came for him to return to his cell of a
cabin he made no protest.

He felt the schooner stop late in the afternoon and he was sure that
they had reached New York. He heard the dropping of the anchor, and then
the sounds became much dimmer. The light in the cabin was suddenly shut
off, and he realized that the porthole had been closed from the outside.
They were taking no chances of a call for help, and he tried to resign
himself.

But will could not control feelings now. To know that he was in New York
and yet was absolutely helpless was more than he could bear. He had
never really believed that the schooner could pass the port and put out
to sea with him a prisoner. It had seemed incredible, one of the things
not to be contemplated, but here was the event coming to pass. Mind lost
control of the body. He threw himself upon the door, pulled at it, and
beat it. It did not move an inch. Then he shouted again and again for
help. There was no response.

Gradually his panic passed, and ashamed of it he threw himself once more
upon the bunk, where he tried to consider whatever facts were in his
favor. It was certain they were not trying to take his life; had they
wished they could have done that long ago, and while one lived one was
never wholly lost. It was a fact that he would remember through
everything and he would pin his faith to it.

He slept, after a while, and he always thought afterwards that the foul,
dense air of the cabin added a kind of stupor to sleep. When he came out
of it late the next day he was