ut into by the cord, was ready to dare and
say anything.

"You vill not?" cried the captain, slowly uncocking the pistol, as his
face resumed its ordinary aspect.

"No, I--will--not!" cried Vince. "Put it away. You dare not fire."

"_Non_; it would be a pity. I nevaire like to shoot good stuff. You
are a brave boy, and I vill make you a fine man. And you too, _mon
garcon_."

He laid his hands on the boys' shoulders, and pressed them hard, smiling
as he said,--

"_Non_, I sink I am not a coward, _mon enfant_, but I tie you bose up
vis ze hant behint, so you sall not run avay. Aha! Eh? You not run
avay vis ze hant, _mais_ vis ze foot? _Eh bien: n'importe_: it does not
mattaire. You ugly boy," he continued, striking Vince a sharp rap in
the chest with the back of the hand, "I like you. _Yais_. You have
saucy tongue. You are a bouledogue boy. I vill see you two 'ave a
fight some days. Now, my lad, take zem bose into ze boat. Ah, _yah,
bete cochon_--big peegue!" he roared, as he examined the way in which
the boys' wrists were tied behind their backs. "I tell you to lash zem
fast. I did not say, `Cut off ze hant.' Cast zem off."

The man who had secured Vince sulkily obeyed, and the captain looked on
till the line was untied, leaving the boys' wrists with white marks
round and blackened swellings on either side.

"Ah, he is a fool," said the captain, taking up first one and then the
other hand. "Vy you do not squeak and pipe ze eye?"

Vince frowned, but made no reply.

"Zere, valk down to ze boat vis me. Say you vill not run avay."

"No: I mean to escape," said Vince.

"Bah! It is sillee. You cannot, _mon garcon_. Come, ze _parole
d'honneur_. Be a man."

Vince glanced at Mike, who gave him an imploring look, which seemed to
say: "Pray give it."

"Yais," said the captain, smiling: "_Parole d'honneur_. If you try to
run _il faut_ shooter zis time."

"_Parole d'honneur_ for to-day," said Vince. "After to-day I shall try
to escape."

"It is _bon_--good," said the captain, laughing. "After to-day--yais.
Zere, valk you down to ze boat. I like you bose. If you had been cry
boy, and go down on your knees, and zay, `Oh, pray don't,' I kick you.
_En avant_!"

He clapped his hand upon Vince's shoulder, and walked with both to the
boat, signing to them to enter and go right forward, where they seated
themselves in the bows while he took his place in the stern.

"Oh, Cinder!" whispered