OF "ROAD RANGERS," THE "MATE" SERIES, "SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES,"
"FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH," ETC.

CHAPTER IX.

THE RANGERS HAVE DEALINGS WITH PIRATES.

When the rest of the Rangers were awakened to the fact that there were
others on the island besides themselves, they were so certain that
Captain Crotty had returned, and so excited over the prospect of being
rescued from their unpleasant situation, that but for Will Rogers they
would have rushed to the beach at once with shouts of welcome.

"Hold on, fellows," he said, in a low tone. "I don't believe the skipper
is down there, for, you know, he never swears--at least we never heard
him--while those men are swearing like pirates. The rest of you wait
here while Hal and I slip round to that far point, where we can get
close to them without being discovered. Come on, Hal."

The other boys were not at all satisfied with this arrangement, however,
and the two scouts were hardly out of sight before Mif Bowers said:

"Look here, fellows, I don't see why we should be left behind doing
nothing. We are just as anxious to know who those men are as anybody.
Besides, supposing they should go off before Will and Hal got to the
point. Then we'd be as bad off as ever, and I, for one, am too sick of
this plaguey island to be left on it any longer. So I'm going to sneak
down a little closer, and make sure they don't get away without our
knowing it."

As the speaker started to carry out this intention the others followed
him. Only little Cal Moody, who was afraid to go, and almost equally so
to stay alone, remained behind. The others had not got more than
half-way to the beach before they saw a tall figure coming directly
toward them.

"Lie low, fellows!" whispered Mif Bowers, throwing himself flat amid a
growth of bayberry and sweet-fern. The rest of the boys instantly
followed his example, and the approaching figure had almost passed them
without discovering their presence, when it stopped to listen to a sound
of pattering feet and an anxious voice calling in suppressed tones:
"Mif! Fellows! Wait for me!" The next moment little Cal Moody ran with a
startled cry plump into the stranger's arms.

[Illustration: "ANSWER ME INSTANTLY, YOU YOUNG RASCAL, OR I'LL THROTTLE
YOU."]

"Hello!" cried the latter. "What's this? Who are you? and what are you
doing here? Answer me instantly, you young rascal, or I'll throttle
you."

"Please, sir, I didn't mean any harm," gasped poor Cal, frighte