flashed upon
him, his whole expression changed, his lips closed tightly together as
though fearing an involuntary sound might escape, and the haggard look
dissolved from his face.

Cautiously, slowly, he stepped over the edge of the sand hill and down
the slanting face. His coming was as silent as death, for his feet
made no noise as he sank ankle-deep in the yielding surface. So,
stealthily, step by step, he descended, reached the bag, lifted it
silently. Levi, still bending over the chest and searching through the
papers within, was not four feet away. Hiram raised the bag in his
hands. He must have made some slight rustle as he did so, for suddenly
Levi half turned his head. But he was one instant too late. In a flash
the bag was over his head--shoulders--arms--body.

Then came another struggle, as fierce, as silent, as desperate as that
other--and as short. Wiry, tough, and strong as he was, with a lean,
sinewy, nervous vigor, fighting desperately for his life as he was,
Levi had no chance against the ponderous strength of his stepbrother.
In any case, the struggle could not have lasted long; as it was, Levi
stumbled backward over the body of his dead mate and fell, with Hiram
upon him. Maybe he was stunned by the fall; maybe he felt the
hopelessness of resistance, for he lay quite still while Hiram,
kneeling upon him, drew the rope from the ring of the chest and,
without uttering a word, bound it tightly around both the bag and the
captive within, knotting it again and again and drawing it tight. Only
once was a word spoken. "If you'll lemme go," said a muffled voice
from the bag, "I'll give you five thousand pounds--it's in that there
box." Hiram answered never a word, but continued knotting the rope and
drawing it tight.

XIII

The _Scorpion_ sloop-of-war lay in Lewes harbor all that winter and
spring, probably upon the slim chance of a return of the pirates. It
was about eight o'clock in the morning and Lieutenant Maynard was
sitting in Squire Hall's office, fanning himself with his hat and
talking in a desultory fashion. Suddenly the dim and distant noise of
a great crowd was heard from without, coming nearer and nearer. The
Squire and his visitor hurried to the door. The crowd was coming down
the street shouting, jostling, struggling, some on the footway, some
in the roadway. Heads were at the doors and windows, looking down upon
them. Nearer they came, and nearer; then at last they could see that
the