consciousness. Never having seen the man before, Code did not consider
it necessary to answer. So he wriggled to find out if any bones were
broken, and, in the end, discovered a tender knob on the right side of
his head.

He soon recalled the visit to St. Pierre, the purchase of the bait,
Pete Ellinwood's fight, the general mix-up, and the blow on the head
that had finished him. He sat up suddenly.

"Look here! What ship is this?" he demanded.

"You'll find out soon enough when you go on deck. Hungry? I got orders
to feed ye."

"You bet I'm hungry; didn't have any dinner last night in St.
Pierre."

"Two nights ago," said the other, beginning to fry salt pork. "Nigh
thirty-six hours you've laid here like a log." Code doubted it, but
did not argue. He was trying to puzzle out the situation.

If this was a fishing schooner the men ought to be over the side
fishing, and she would be at anchor. Instead, feeling the long, steady
heel to leeward and half-recover to windward, he knew she was flying
on a course.

Breakfast swallowed, he made his way on deck. As he came up the
companionway a man stood leaning against the rail. With a feeling of
violent revulsion, Code recognized Nat Burns. A glance at a near-by
dory showed the lettering _Nettie B._, and Schofield at once
recognized his position.

He was Nat Burns's prisoner.

"Mornin'," said Burns curtly. "Thought you were goin' to sleep
forever."

"It's a hanging offense putting any one to sleep that long," retorted
Code cheerfully. "Luck was with you, and I woke up."

"You're hardly in a position to joke about hanging offenses," remarked
Nat venomously.

"Why not?" Code had gone a sickly pallor that looked hideous through
his tan.

"Because you're goin' home to St. Andrew's to be tried for one."

Code glanced over his left shoulder. The sun was there. The schooner
was headed almost directly southwest. Nat had spoken the truth. They
were headed homeward.

"Where's your warrant?" Code could feel his teeth getting on edge with
rage as he talked to this captor who bore himself with such
insolence.

"Don't need a warrant for murder cases, and I'm a constable at
Freekirk Head, so everything is being done according to law. The
gunboat didn't find you, so I thought, as long as you were right to
hand, I'd bring you along."

"Then you knew I was in St. Pierre?"

"Yes; saw you come in. If it hadn't been so dark you'd have recognized
the _Nettie_ not far away."