ite men to reach the mainland that
night. They were criminals, breaking their country's laws for money.

Jim decided that they should never make use of the _Barracouta_.

The spokesman dropped his conciliatory mask and turned away defiantly.

"All right, young fellow! You've had your say; now we'll have ours."

"Throppy," said Jim in a low tone to Stevens, who was standing with Lane
beside him, "these men are smugglers. Call the cutter!"

He had time for nothing more. As Stevens slipped quietly back into the
cabin there was an angry outburst among the group on the beach.

"I've done my best, Cap," protested a voice. "He won't listen to reason.
Now take that rag off your face and handle this thing yourself. It's up
to you."

There was a sudden rush of enraged men toward Lane and Spurling. As they
came, two wrenched the handkerchiefs from their faces, revealing to the
astounded boys the features of the would-be sheep-thieves of the first
of the summer, Dolph and Captain Bart Brittler!

The latter was white with rage. His voice rose almost to a screech.

"No more fooling! We need that sloop and we're going to have her! Will
you sell her?"

"No."

"Then we'll take her!"

Brittler's hand shot into his pocket as if for a revolver.

"Stop there, Cap!" warned Dolph's voice. "No gun-play! 'Tisn't
necessary. We can handle 'em."

He flung himself suddenly on Spurling; another man leaped upon Lane.
Though taken completely by surprise and almost hurled backward, Jim
quickly recovered his balance. A sledge-hammer blow from Dolph's fist
grazed his jaw as he sprang aside. He returned it with interest, his
right going true to its mark; down went Dolph, as if hit by a
pile-driver. He lay for a moment, stunned.

Strong and active though Jim was, he could not bear the brunt of the
entire battle. Lane's assailant had proved too much for him; they were
struggling together on the gravel, the older man on top. Percy and
Filippo came running; but their aid counted for little. A stocky
smuggler turned toward them. A single blow from his fist sent the
Italian reeling. Percy lasted longer; but his skill was no match for the
brute strength of his foe. His lighter blows only stung his
antagonist to fiercer efforts. Little by little the boy's strength
failed and his breath came harder. He slipped on a smooth stone; with a
sudden rush his foe pinioned his arms and held him struggling.

[Illustration: "WE NEED THAT SLOOP AND WE'RE GO