haven't took
count of."

"What's that?" said Nic eagerly.

"The dogs, my lad; the dogs!"

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

A FIGHT WITH MORPHEUS.

Nic had no faith in his companion's notions about the boat lying sunk in
the creek or river; but as the time wore on he could suggest no better
idea.

Still, he did find out where the guns were kept one day when, in company
with a man of Humpy Dee's party, he was ordered up to help in stowing
some bales of tobacco-leaf in a kind of store at the back of the low
wooden building.

The work was pretty hard, but Nic hardly felt it, for in going to and
fro he had to pass an open door which led into the place used by the
settler and Saunders for their dining and sitting room. It was a very
rough spot, and the furniture was all home-made--that is to say, it was
manufactured by the blacks. But Nic hardly heeded its contents after
seeing a series of hooks driven into the wall, and upon each pair a
musket, with powder-flask and bullet-pouch attached.

He could think of nothing else as he walked away, for these weapons
meant a supply of food if he and Pete took to the woods, and that night
he communicated the discovery to his companion.

"It ought to be easy to borrow a couple of them," said Pete
quietly--"zome night when the two gaffers are asleep. On'y one thing to
hinder it, as I zee, for I don't believe they shut themselves up,
feeling as they do that we're under lock and key."

"What is to prevent me creeping in and getting them, Pete?"

"Dogs," said the man quietly. "Now, if we was at home I could walk into
Plymouth and go to a druggist's shop, and for twopence buy zomething I
knows of as would zend those dogs to sleep till we'd done what we
wanted; but there aren't no shops in the woods here."

"And we haven't found the boat, Pete."

"And we haven't found the boat, my lad. But here's a little bit of a
tool here I've got for you at last. Better one than mine. One of the
blacks had been cutting up zome meat with it yesterday, and left it out
on the bench--forgetted all about it--they're good ones at forgetting;
and zo I scrambled back and got hold of it, sharpened it up at the
point, and made a wooden sheath for it, so as you can wear it in your
belt under your shirt."

"A knife!" whispered Nic excitedly as Pete thrust the weapon into his
hand. "No; I don't want to shed blood."

"I didn't say it was to kill men with, did I? S'pose one of them dogs
had you by