rade by dashing into the library, barring
the door, and climbing down by the way which he had come up, but to
Jim's credit, be it said, the thought of such escape never crossed his
mind.

As they ran, Jim had the presence of mind to swerve for a second and
grab the hound which he had killed a short time before and drag it out
so that it lay crossways of the hall; then on they dashed, while the
lumbering sailors, better for climbing masts than for sprinting, came
awkwardly on their trail.

The pursuers had only started on the level of the hall when a volley of
six shots flashed in sudden flame in the direction in which Jim and his
friend were running. Two came unpleasantly near, but this only added a
zest to the race, and Jim laughed with a snort of disdain.

"You fellows shoot like Chinamen," he yelled in derision, which remark
reached the ears of Captain Broome and his gang with forcible
distinctness. It served to blind them with fury, and the next moment the
captain fell forward over the dead hound, and three of his gallant
sailors sprawled over him, for which piece of awkwardness they were
berated and kicked and cuffed by their irate employer.

"What dumb fool left that hound there!" he yelled when he saw the
obstruction by the light of a full lantern that one of his men lit.
"He's been pizened."

"Cut in the neck, Cap'n, that's what killed the beastie."

It was only too true, as the old pirate saw, and he went into a fit of
rage that left him inarticulate; but from the way he shook both gnarled
fists in the direction in which Jim had fled, it was clear that he knew
who was responsible for the death of his hound, and who had placed it
where it was. With a sudden sense of superstition his memory went back
to the fate of his great gorilla of the cavern that once had guarded his
treasure in a cave in one of the islands off the coast of California. It
was this same big, humorous, blond-headed boy, who had several times
outwitted and beaten him, though not always, for the hard-bitten old
salt horse had now gotten his yacht back from Jim's grip, and, through
one of his agents, had a few days ago relieved him of his treasure. Now,
in spite of daring and long-headedness, the captain seemed likely to
defeat the youth's present intention of freeing the Senorita da Cordova
from his cold, calculating and cruel grip.

At least it was not certain that James Darlington was to win her
release; however, he had before fought a