using up the food laid in for a voyage? Sammy had spent his two
dollars with the cheerfulness and judgment of a sailor ashore with his
pay in his pocket. And he did not propose to let any greedy little girl
eat her share and his own of their stock.

Several times Sammy ran up the ladder to examine the vicinity of the
_Nancy Hanks_, as the battered old canalboat was named--its title being
painted in big letters along either side of the decked-over cabin, which
was a little higher than the remainder of the deck--but the pirate chief
sighted no prey on the canal. The waters of that raging main seemed
deserted of all craft whatsoever.

Suddenly, however, he sighted an approaching group. It came from the
direction of the blacksmith shop. The mules they had seen waiting to be
shod ambled ahead at a pace warranted to bring them to the towpath in
time. Behind, at the same gait, came a tall, shambling man, what
appeared to be a girl some twelve years of age in tattered calico, and
shoeless, and a droop-eared, forlorn, yellow hound.

"Hist!" said Sammy, down the well of the hold.

Dot did not know just what to reply to this thrilling summons, but she
ventured to ask:

"Do you want to say something to me, Sammy Pinkney? For if you do, you
can."

"Hist! Keep quiet," ordered the pirate chief. "They're--they're in the
offing."

"Wha--what's a offling?" she demanded. "We're orphans--Ruthie, and
Aggie, and Tess, and me. So's Mr. Luke and Cecile. And so's Neale
O'Neil," she added thoughtfully. "Is an offling like an orphan?"

"Keep still!" hissed the boy. "They're nearer."

"Who's nearer?"

"Shall I make 'em heave to when they come near 'nough, or shall we let
'em go on and give chase?"

"Goodness me, Sammy!" cried Dot, greatly puzzled. "You'd better come
right down here. If anybody's coming we don't want to get into trouble.
You _know_ we didn't ask the man if we could come into this boat, and
perhaps he don't like pirates."

This idea appealed to Sammy, too, as the mules and the little company
with them drew near. He slipped over the edge of the hatchway and came
down the ladder.

Overhead a threatening black cloud had obscured the sun. Thunder
muttered in the distance. A tempest would probably break soon and
neither Sammy nor Dot liked thunder and lightning.

"And we didn't bring any umbrella, Sammy Pinkney!" gasped Dot.

"Aw, we won't need one down here. We'll be dry enough," the boy
declared.

Just then a draw