s canoe, when he knew that the Hurons were all around him? You
wouldn't catch Dick or old Bob Kelly in any such scrape, nor me either,
for that matter, for I would"--

Frank's soliloquy was brought to a close very suddenly, and what he was
about to say must forever remain a secret. His throat was seized with an
iron grasp, and he was lifted bodily out of his chair, and thrown upon
the floor. So quickly was it done that he had no time to resist or to
cry out. Before he could realize what had happened, he found himself
lying flat on his back, and felt a heavy weight upon his breast holding
him down.

Filled with surprise and indignation, he looked up into the face that
was bending over him, and recognized Pierre Costello, whose features
wore a fiendish expression, the effect of which was heightened by a
murderous-looking knife which he carried between his teeth. Scowling
fiercely, as if he were trying to strike terror to the boy's heart by
his very appearance, he loosened his grasp on Frank's throat, and the
latter, after coughing and swallowing to overcome the effects of the
choking he had received, demanded:

"What do you mean, you villain?"

Pierre, without making any reply, coolly proceeded to overhaul the
contents of Frank's pockets. Like all boys of his age, our hero was
supplied with a variety of articles, which, however serviceable they may
be to a youngster of sixteen, no one else could possibly find use for,
and the Ranchero's investigations brought to light a fish-line,
bait-box, a rooster's spur, of which Frank intended to make a charger
for his rifle, a piece of buckskin, half a dozen bullets, a brass
cannon, a pocket comb, a quill pop-gun, a small compass, a silver ring,
a match-box, a jack-knife, and a piece of lead. These articles he
tossed upon the floor, rather contemptuously, and then turned all
Frank's pockets inside out, but failed to discover any thing more.

"Where are they?" demanded Pierre, removing the knife from his mouth,
and looking savagely at his prisoner, who all this time had lain
perfectly still upon the floor, apparently not the least alarmed.

"Where are what?" inquired Frank.

"The keys, you young vagabond!" returned the Ranchero, astonished at the
result of his search, and in a great hurry to get through with his
business. "The keys that open the office and the safe. Speak quick!"

"The safe key is where you'll never get your hands upon it," replied
Frank. "If you want it, yo