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"Well, I don't agree with your skipper," snapped Burns. "I got

Schofield, and I'm going to deliver him. He's safe enough, don't

you worry. When you go back you can tell Captain Foraker that

Schofield is in perfectly good hands."

The pleasant, amiable manner of the subaltern underwent a quick

change. He at once became the stern, businesslike representative

of the government.

"I am sorry, Captain Burns, but I shall deliver no such message,

and when I go back I shall have the criminal with me. Those are

my orders, and I intend to carry them out." He turned to the six

sailors sitting quietly in the boat, their oars still in the air.

"Unship oars!" he commanded. The sweeps fell away, three on each

side. "Squad on deck!" The men scrambled up the short ladder and

lined up in two rows of three. At his belt each man carried a

revolver and cutlasses swung at their sides.

"Now," requested the officer amiably, "will you please lead me to

the prisoner?"