not hurt the boat. He says that its bad enough because we lost
ours, without anything a-happenin' to yours. I wouldn't do a little
thing, sure I wouldn't. Hope you believe me boys. Don't lick me! I got
about all I ought to have already. I'm shiverin' to beat the band. Quit
jerkin' me that way, Chris Colon; I ain't hurt you!"

"Oh! come along, you silly!" said the tall boy, who had a contempt for
so great a sneak and coward as Conrad Jimmerson.

Fred closed and locked the door again after they had entered. The sound
of the key being turned in the lock started the frightened boy into
protesting again. He judged others by Buck's standard, and the bare
thought of finding himself alone and a prisoner, in the power of those
he would have injured, seemed to give him a case of the "trembles," as
Colon called it.

"Now I want you to take a look into his pockets," the tall boy
remarked.

Immediately he uttered a triumphant exclamation.

"See here, Fred, he had a whole lot of matches with him!" he called
out. "Looks like he was ready for business, all right."

"Say, I always carry matches with me, and you know it, Chris Colon,"
protested the alarmed prisoner, vigorously.

"Perhaps you do, but never so many as these," Colon went on. "I kind of
reckon you thought you'd have good need of 'em this night. But what're
you carrying under your arm that way, Fred? Saw you step over, and pick
somethin' up outside there. Find anything worth while; another feller's
cap, maybe?"

"No, it was this," and Fred held an object up.

"What's that? Looks like a bundle of old rags!" remarked Colon,
quickly; while the prisoner gasped and shivered worse than ever.

"There was something more; what do you think of this?" and for the
second time Fred elevated his hand, containing an object that made
Colon utter a cry of rage.

"A bottle!" he ejaculated. "What's in it, Fred? Three to one I c'n
guess. Kerosene!"

"That's just what it is," returned the other, gravely. "Some fellows
came here to-night prepared to throw this stuff over one end of the old
shed, and start a fire going. Perhaps they even meant to break in, and
scatter the oil over the boat, so nothing could save it, once the fire
got started. We've nipped as mean a little game in the bud as I ever
heard about."

Colon turned on the prisoner with a black face, and gritting teeth.

"Who set you on to this thing, Jimmerson?" he demanded. "You never
thought of it by yourself, because