began to think that they had gone too far, and his opinion was endorsed
by his companion, who suddenly leaned back to look at him, with a face
full of horror.

"Cinder," he said, "I didn't mean to, but I hit him too hard."

"Put the bat down, and come and take the oar and sheet," whispered back
Vince, whose nervous feeling increased as the change was made.

Vince was no doctor, but he had not been about with his father for
years, and dipped into his books, without picking up some few scraps of
medical and surgical lore. So, bringing these to bear, he leaned over
their prisoner and listened to his breathing, studied his countenance a
little, and then placed a couple of fingers upon the man's massive wrist
and then at his throat and temples.

After this he drew back to where, trembling and ghastly-looking, Mike
was watching him, and now whispered, with catching breath,--

"Is he--"

Mike wanted to say "dead," but the word would not come.

"Yes," said Vince, in the same low tone; "he's shamming. Go back and
keep guard."

"No, no--you," said Mike; "I'll steer."

Vince nodded, and seated himself on the thwart over the prisoner, with
the heavy piece of wood close at hand.

The boat bounded on, and he glanced at the distant vessels, wondering
whether the cutter would capture the schooner and the lugger get safely
to port. He thought, too, a good deal about the man in the bottom of
the boat, and felt more and more sure that he was right in his ideas;
for every now and then there was a twitching of the muscles about the
corners of his eyes, which at last opened in a natural way, and looked
piteously in the boy's face.

"How far are we from the shore?" he said.

"'Bout a mile," said Vince coolly. "Why, Mike Ladelle thought you were
dead?"

"So I am nearly," groaned Daygo. "Oh, my head, my head!"

"Yes, you did get a pretty good crack," said Vince; "and you'll get
another if you don't lie still."

"But you've tied me so tight, Master Vince: line's a-cutting into my
wristies."

"Of course it is," said Vince coolly. "I tied it as tightly as I could.
You ought to be pretty well satisfied that we didn't leave you to
drown."

"Ah!" groaned Daygo, "don't say that, Master Vince. I've been a good
friend to you and him."

"Yes, and we're going to be good friends to you, Joe. You're such a
wicked old rascal that it will do you good to be sent to prison."

"No, no; don't do that, my lad. Mebbe they'd hang me