inished, four men on shore must be overcome.

Aquiver with excitement, he sprang into the dory and quickly rowed to
the beach, some distance from the camp. Then he leaped out with the oars
and carried them well up on the shingle.

The other dory of the smugglers was, he remembered, almost exactly in
front of the cabin. Skirting the water, he soon came plump upon the
boat. He felt inside, found the oars, and gave one after the other a
shove out into the cove. Barely had he done this when hurrying steps
approached. One of the guards from the camp was coming to investigate
the tumult on the _Barracouta_.

He passed so close to the dory beside which Percy was crouching that
the boy could almost have touched him. Luckily he had no lantern. Percy
hardly dared to breathe until the man was twenty feet past.

"What's the trouble out there?" he shouted.

If the two on the sloop heard him at all, they made no intelligible
reply. The tumult and thumping kept on. Not waiting to see whether or
not the sentinel would succeed in establishing communication with his
marooned companions, Percy ran silently up the beach. Making a broad
circuit, he approached the cabin from behind.

Through the open window he could see his mates, listening with parted
lips to the hubbub outside. He attracted Jim's attention by tossing in a
pebble. Spurling sauntered leisurely toward the rear of the cabin. His
precautions were needless; the remaining sentry had concentrated his
whole attention on the uproar in the cove.

"Jim," whispered Percy, hurriedly, "I'm going to jump that guard. You
and Budge stand close to the door. The second you hear any fracas rush
out and take hold with me. Stop him from shouting, if you can."

Jim nodded and stepped back from the window. Percy crept stealthily
round the camp toward the fish-house. He rightly inferred that the
smuggler would be gazing down the beach toward the invisible sloop.

A well-oiled clock could not have worked more smoothly. The sentry's
thoughts were focused on what was taking place out there in the fog, and
he was all unconscious of the peril that menaced him in the rear.

Suddenly out of the blackness behind him a lithe figure shot like a
wildcat. One arm encircled the neck of the astounded guard, the hand
pressing tightly over his mouth. The other hand caught his right wrist
and twisted it backward, causing him to drop his revolver. The force of
the attack flung him flat on his face.

Befo