to the crew. "But you fellers
are due to get shot if you sees her through," he added.

"I'm captain of this ship--" began the helpless autocrat.

"You shore look like it, all right," Hopalong replied, smiling. "If
yo're the captain you order her turned around and headed over the back
trail, or I'll drop you overboard off yore own ship!" Then fierce anger
at the thought of the indignities and injuries he and his companion had
suffered swept over him and prompted a one-minute speech which left
no doubt as to what he would do if his demand was not complied with.
Johnny, now free to watch the crew, added a word or two of endorsement,
and he acted a little as if he rather hoped it would not be complied
with: he itched for an excuse.

The captain did some quick thinking; the true situation could not be
disguised, and with a final oath of rage he gave in. "'Bout ship, Hogan;
nor' by nor'west," he growled, and the seaman started away to execute
the command, but was quickly stopped by Hopalong.

"Hogan, is that right?" he demanded. "No funny business, or we'll clean
up the whole bunch, an' blamed quick, too!"

"That's the course, sor. That's the way back to town. I can navigate,
an' me orders are plain. Ye're Irish, by the way av ye, and 't is back
to town ye go, sor!" He turned to the crew: "Stand by, me boys." And in
a short time the course was nor' by nor'west.

The return journey was uneventful and at nightfall the ship lay at
anchor off the low Texas coast, and a boat loaded with men grounded on
the sandy beach. Four of them arose and leaped out into the mild surf
and dragged the boat as high up on the sand as it would go. Then the
two cow-punchers followed and one of them gave a low-spoken order to the
Irishman at his side.

"Yes, sor," replied Hogan, and hastened to help the captain out onto the
sand and to cut the ropes which bound him. "Do ye want the mates, too,
sor?" he asked, glancing at the trussed men in the boat.

"No; the foreman's enough," Hopalong responded, handing his weapons to
Johnny and turning to face the captain, who was looking into Johnny's
gun as he rubbed his arms to restore perfect circulation.

"Now, you flat-faced coyote, yo're going to get the beating of yore
life, an' I'm going to give it to you!" Hopalong cried, warily advancing
upon the man whom he held to be responsible for the miseries of the past
twenty-four hours. "You didn't give me a square deal, but I'm man enough
to give you