e open
door. Near it stood the fourth smuggler, peering anxiously out; behind
him huddled the Chinamen. He gave an exclamation of relief as he saw
Jim's figure approaching through the fog.

"I'm glad--"

He stopped short, frozen with surprise, at the sight of the three boys.
Swiftly his hand darted toward his left coat pocket.

"None of that, Shane!" commanded Jim, sharply. "Put 'em up!"

The three automatics in the boys' hands showed the guard that
resistance was useless. He obeyed sulkily.

"Feel in his pocket, Perce, and take his revolver! No, the other side!
He's left-handed."

Percy secured the weapon. Escorting Shane to the camp, they soon had him
safely trussed. Brittler was bellowing like a mad bull.

"Now for Dolph and the skipper! Guess the three of us are good for 'em!"

Leaving the four smugglers in the custody of Throppy and Filippo, the
other boys proceeded down to the water. The shouting suddenly ceased. A
rope splashed.

"They've cast off the mooring!" exclaimed Jim.

Another unmistakable sound.

"Now they're rocking the wheel to start her!"

Percy felt for the spark-plugs in his pocket.

"They'll rock it some time!"

They did. At last they stopped. There was a muttered consultation,
inaudible to the listening ears on shore.

"Might as well wind the thing up now!" observed Jim in an undertone.

"On board the sloop!" he hailed. "It's all off, Captain! We've got your
four men tied up, and we've got their revolvers. You and Dolph might as
well give it up. Throw your guns in on the beach, and we'll come out and
get you, one at a time!"

A tremendous surprise was voiced by the absolute silence that followed.
It was broken by Brittler's sneering voice:

"So we might as well give up, had we, eh? Guess you don't know Bart
Brittler, sonny! Let 'em have it, Dolph!"

_Spang--spang--spang--spang!_

A fusillade of revolver-shots woke the echoes. The bullets spattered in
the water and thudded on the beach. Fortunately no one was hit.

"Scatter, fellows!" shouted Jim. And in a lower voice he added, "Don't
fire back!"

Silence again. The two on the sloop were evidently reloading. Then came
a regular splashing. The men on the _Barracouta_ were paddling her
ashore. Armed and desperate, now fully aware that the only things
between themselves and a term in a Federal prison were the bullets in
their automatics, they would go to almost any length to escape, even to
the taking of life itself. Plain