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Burns looked at Schofield's tense white face. His eyes

encountered those flaming blue ones and dropped sullenly. Whether

it was the tremendous force of the threat or whether it was a

guilty conscience working, no one but himself knew, but his face

grew gradually as pallid as that of his captive. Suddenly he

turned away.

"Boys," he called to the crew who were working near, "put

Schofield in the old storeroom. And one of you watch it all the

time. He says he will escape if he can, so I hold you

responsible."

Code followed the men to a little shanty seemingly erected

against the foremast. It was of stout, heavy boards about long

enough to allow a cot being set up in it. It had formerly been

used for storing provisions and had never been taken down.