THE RESULT OF DORY’S STRATEGY

Dory Dornwood and Mr. Jepson watched the movements of the two men on the
rafts as they approached the shore, driven before the strong wind,
though it had ceased to be a furious gale by this time. The La Motte had
swung round with her head to the wind, and the two members of the
Nautifelers Club who remained on board of her had seated themselves on
the taffrail to watch their progress.

“They must understand by this time that something has happened to
Spickles,” said the instructor, as they looked out from their
hiding-place in the trees.

“Who is Spickles?” asked Dory, who had not heard the name of the leader
before.

“He is the fellow you call Angy, and his full name is Michael Angelo
Spickles. The two given names appear to have been used to take off the
curse of the homely last name; but Buonarotti is not honored in his
namesake,” added the instructor, laughing. “I saw him yesterday when he
called at the school, and Matt Randolph told me something about him.”

“I saw the schooner in the river yesterday, but I did not go very near
her. These fellows are a bad lot, and a few years in the State prison
will do them good. I begin to feel as though it were breakfast-time,”
said Dory. “I have had a long tramp this morning.”

“I have the same feeling. But what are you going to do, Dory?” asked the
instructor, to whom Dory had not yet explained his intentions, if he had
any.

“I don’t know yet: that will depend upon what those fellows do. I should
like to get possession of that schooner and the four fellows that belong
to the gang; and I shall be willing to go without my breakfast for the
sake of doing it,” replied Dory. “I should like to sail the La Motte
into Beechwater with these four fellows under the hatches.”

“Do you think of doing any thing of that sort?” asked the instructor,
with no little astonishment on his face.

“Not without your consent and assistance, Mr. Jepson.”

“That would be a rather bold enterprise, Dory.”

“We are only two, and I don’t think of fighting them, or any thing of
that sort; though I am ready to lay hands on them if the chances are in
our favor. I don’t think they are fighting characters, like the one
already captured.”

“But they are not going to give themselves up without some sort of
persuasion.”

“We will persuade them, then, if they insist upon it. There are only two
of them left on board of the vessel. By the use of a little strategy, we
can get on board of the schooner. Then we can watch our chances, and do
what the occasion may require.”

“Very well, Dory: I will assist you. But your uncle will not care to
have you attack these fellows.”

“I don’t know that we shall attack them: that will depend upon
circumstances. I handled the chief of the gang, and I am sure I can
manage any one of the others. They are not more than eighteen or twenty
years old, and I am as heavy as any of them.”

“Then, I ought to be able to manage the second one,” added the
instructor.

“The two who are going ashore cannot possibly get back to the vessel
without a boat; and, no doubt, they count upon finding the one they used
this morning.”

“You must be very careful what you do, Dory.”

“I certainly shall be; but I can’t think of letting these villains
escape, as they may, if we do nothing.”

“One of them has reached the shore,” said Mr. Jepson.

“And the other will be there in a moment,” added Dory, as he rose from
his sitting posture to enable him to see better. “They will make it
their first business to find Angy Spickles. They won’t find him, and
they will do a good deal of looking for him before they give him up. We
will not show ourselves for a while,–not till the two on shore have had
time to go some distance from the lake.”

The second raftsman landed on the beach all in a heap, and the first one
assisted him out of the water. They dragged their floats out of the
water, possibly thinking they might want them again; though they must be
reasonably sure of finding the schooner’s boat.

As soon as they had disposed of their rafts, they started for the point
from which the last call of their leader, as they supposed, had come.
They began to shout as they went into the woods, and in a short time
their voices came to the listeners from a considerable distance.

“Now is our time,” said Dory, as he seated himself in the boat, and got
the oars ready for use.

“Shall I take an oar?”

“That will be the better way. When those on board see the boat coming,
they will think it is their two companions, and they will wonder what
has become of Angy,” continued Dory.

“But if the fellows on shore see us, they will spoil your little
arrangement,” suggested the instructor.

“But they won’t see us. How can they see us when they are a quarter of a
mile off in the woods?” argued Dory.

Both of the rowers gave way, and the boat advanced towards the La Motte.
As soon as the two on board of her saw the tender, they left their
places on the taffrail, and went into the waist, where they could obtain
a better view of the boat. It would be an easy thing for them to
recognize the tender, for, like the schooner itself, it was painted
green.

“I am afraid they will recognize us,” said Dory, “or fail to recognize
their companions, which amounts to the same thing. I am going to take my
coat off, and tie a handkerchief on my head; and you had better do the
same. It will be some disguise.”

This change was made in the appearance of the rowers, and they resumed
their oars. The sea was still heavy enough to require both skill and
strength in handling the boat; but Dory was an expert, and they made
good progress towards the La Motte. The fact that there were only two in
the boat was likely to excite the suspicion of those on board of the
schooner.




“Where is Angy?” shouted one of them, as soon as the boat came within
hail of the vessel.

Dory did not consider it prudent to answer this question; for his voice
was likely to betray him, or at least to assure the burglars that the
speaker was not one of their number. He had been with them for some
time, though he had been silent.

“I think you had better do the talking, Mr. Jepson, for they will know
me,” said Dory.

“Wouldn’t it be better to do no talking?” asked the instructor.

“We must answer them if they keep hailing us, or they will be
suspicious.”

“Have you seen any thing of Angy?” shouted one of the burglars.

“He is on shore,” replied Mr. Jepson.

“Why didn’t he come off with you?”

“His business was such that he couldn’t leave,” answered the machinist;
but perhaps they did not hear his reply.

The two burglars seemed to be talking together, and the boat was now
almost near enough to hear what they said. Like all the rest of the
intercourse in the party, it was not entirely harmonious, and they
appeared to be disputing about something. As the boat approached the
schooner, Dory told the instructor what to say.

“One of you go aft, and put the helm hard down, and the other cast off
the main-sheet, or you will drag your anchor, and get aground!” shouted
the instructor, as they came alongside of the schooner.

Dory took it for granted that the hands on board of the La Motte were
not sailors; though he had seen enough of their management of the
schooner to convince him that they were not skilful seamen, to say the
least. Both of the men hastened aft, without appearing to understand
that the order given them was an absurd one. With the painter of the
boat in his hand, Dory leaped on board of the vessel, and Mr. Jepson
followed him.

The mainsail of the schooner was furled, and casting off the main-sheet
could not have the least effect upon her; but one of them cast it off,
and the other was at the tiller. He did not know what “hard down” meant,
as no one would have known when the schooner was at anchor.

“Which way shall I put the tiller?” asked the one who was at the helm.

“That’s right as you have it,” replied the machinist, prompted by Dory.

While he was making it fast with the tiller-lines, the other one came
into the waist. Dory turned his back to him, regardless of the law of
politeness. The instructor was a stranger to him; but as he came off in
the schooner’s boat, he did not seem to suspect that there was any thing
wrong.

“Have you seen Captain Spickles?” he asked.

“Yes: we saw him on shore, but he was not ready to come on board,”
answered the instructor.

By this time Dory had worked himself to a position in the rear of the
fellow, who was rather diminutive in form; and he did not lose an
instant in resorting to the tactics of Captain Spickles himself. Placing
his hands on the shoulders of his intended victim, he raised his right
knee to the small of his back, and brought him down with very little
effort. He had picked up a piece of line before, with which he tied his
arms behind him, even before the one at the tiller had noticed what was
going on.

“What are you about there?” demanded the other, as soon as he saw what
had been done, and hastened to the waist.

“Throw up your hands!” said the machinist, as he brought his revolver to
bear upon him.

The weapon had its effect, and the fellow promptly obeyed the order.
Dory secured him as he had the first one, and the business was finished
without disaster to any one. The prisoners were astonished, and it was
evident that they were inferior in force to the other three.

Continue Reading

THE ARRIVAL OF MICHAEL ANGELO SPICKLES

The bell on the dormitory was rung at the regular hour, and every thing
went on as usual at the school. Captain Gildrock had started out all the
officers in Genverres to hunt down the burglars. The engineer and the
carpenter had the start of them, but at breakfast-time nothing had been
heard from them. It was Saturday, and the regular sessions of the school
were suspended on that day; but the order had been given for all the
students to assemble in the schoolroom at eight o’clock.

The excitement had almost entirely subsided, and the only thing that
disturbed the principal was the continued absence of Dory. But Mr.
Jepson and Mr. Brookbine had gone in search of him, and it did not
appear that any thing else could be done. Mrs. Dornwood and Marian were
very anxious about him; and as soon as it appeared that the storm had
subsided, the captain promised to send out all the steamers and
sailing-craft to explore the lake and the eastern shore.

At the appointed hour all the students were in their places, some of
them expecting to hear the principal speak of the burglary, though the
old scholars were not of this number. If there was any exciting topic
not connected with the school current on the premises, Captain Gildrock
usually ignored it. He made the work of the school the main topic, and
never put the routine aside unless for sufficient reasons.

“As the season opens, we are to make the sailing of boats the principal
object of study and practice,” the principal began, much to the
disappointment of many of the students, who wanted to know what he
thought about the burglary. “This matter has always been attended to
more or less, though we have never given it special attention till this
season.

“While we shall be obliged to confine our practice in sailing to small
craft, I shall give you some idea of the management of larger craft. In
one of the palaces in St. Petersburg, there is a mast set up, and fully
sparred and rigged, for the instruction of the young Grand Dukes in
seamanship. From this model they learn all the details of the spars,
rigging, and sails; and having learned it on one mast, they apply it to
any other.

“I have already given this information so far as it could be done in a
lecture illustrated with drawings. You have studied these drawings, and
you ought to know the names and uses of the principal pieces of rigging.
I gave you the system by which the names are applied; and at the time of
it, you seemed to have mastered the subject, though you have doubtless
forgotten some of the details.

“But this is not a study-hour, and perhaps it would be better for me to
answer questions, of which you seem to have a full supply on hand at all
times. At any rate, I shall ascertain what you wish to know on this
subject.”

Lon Dorset raised his hand, and the principal indicated by a nod that he
might proceed. All eyes were directed towards him.

“I wish to know if there is ever a square-sail rigged with a gaff on the
mizzen-mast of a brig, above the spanker,–a sail set like the mainsail
of a schooner?” asked the inquirer.

“On which mast?” asked the principal; and there was something like a
suppressed laugh among the old sailors of the school.

“The mizzen-mast, sir,” replied Lon confidently.

The old sailors laughed out loud, for it was rather a pleasure to trip
up any one in a nautical blunder.

“There is no such mast in a brig,” added Captain Gildrock.

“I beg your pardon, sir; but you told us, in the lecture you gave us on
the different rigs of vessels, that a brig had two masts,–the main and
the mizzen,” continued Lon, picking up his note-book, and hastily
turning the leaves.

“I think not, Dorset,” said the principal with a smile. “I know better
than that, and I should not be likely to say such a thing.”

“Here it is, just as I wrote it down at the time of it,” persisted Lon.
“I didn’t know any thing at all about such vessels, and I should not
have been likely to put down what you didn’t say. ‘In a vessel with two
masts, the terms are main and mizzen.'”

About a dozen others began to turn the leaves of their note-books, and
then Dolly Woodford raised his hand. The principal nodded to him.

“I have it down in the same way,” said Dolly.

“So have I,” added Sam Spottwood.

“Main and mizzen,” followed Chick Penny, reading from his book.

Half a dozen of the students said the same thing, after consulting their
notes taken on the spot.

“I have it so, sir; and I thought it was a mistake. I was going to ask
you about it, but I did not get a chance to do so,” said Dick Short.

“I shall have to give it up,” replied the principal; “and I cheerfully
acknowledge that you are right, and I am wrong. I must have said so,
since you prove that I did. A person sometimes says a thing exactly
opposite from what he means. I must ask you to correct the record, and
write it down, that, in a vessel with two masts, the terms are fore and
main. You mean a square-sail above the spanker on the mainmast of a
brig; though you are not responsible for making it the mizzen, Dorset.”

“Yes, sir. I saw a picture in an old book with such a sail on the
mainmast,” replied the student.

“I have seen such a sail once or twice in my life at sea; but it is not
common, especially at the present day. The ordinary gaff-topsail, if any
sail is to be set above the spanker on a brig, could present quite as
much surface, and be more easily handled.”

Another student raised his hand, and the principal was going to give him
permission to speak, when the door of the schoolroom was opened, and Mr.
Brookbine, rifle in hand, and leading Mr. Michael Angelo Spickles by the
arm, marched into the room. He made his way directly to the platform
where the captain stood. Of course, this arrival made a decided
sensation among the students, though they did not indulge in any
demonstration.

“I beg your pardon, Captain Gildrock, for bringing this gentleman here,
but I could not find any one below to take charge of him while I sent
for you,” said the master-carpenter; for he knew that the principal did
not like any thing sensational in the presence of the students.

“You are excusable under the circumstances, Mr. Brookbine,” replied the
captain. “Very likely the students will be glad to see the gentleman, if
that is what you call him.”




“I suppose that is what he calls himself.”

“But where is Dory, Mr. Brookbine?” asked the principal, with more
anxiety in his tones than he was in the habit of displaying when any
thing troubled him.

“He is all right, sir. He has gone with Mr. Jepson to follow this matter
up a little further,” replied the carpenter.

Captain Gildrock smiled, for his anxiety was relieved. He turned from
the instructor to the prisoner he had brought, and whose face he had not
noticed before. Possibly it was to some extent an affectation for him to
appear to be unmoved, whatever happened; and he had hardly noticed the
carpenter and his prisoner when they entered the room.

“Good-morning, Mr. Spickles. I see that you have done me the honor to
call again, and I shall endeavor to appreciate your courtesy,” said the
captain, when he recognized his visitor of the day before.

“I did not come of my own accord this time, and no compliments are in
order,” growled Spickles.

“This visit is quite unexpected. I remember that you seemed to feel a
lively interest in my safe in the office; and you have proved to your
satisfaction that it is not a wooden one,” continued Captain Gildrock.
“I must confess that I am greatly surprised to find a young gentleman
with your brilliant ideas engaged in blowing open safes.”

“Here is a pocket-book which was taken from him,” interposed the
carpenter, as he handed it to the principal. “I did not tell you that
this was the chief of the burglars, but such is the fact.”

The captain opened the pocket-book, and took the wet bills from it.

“These were the bills in the safe, without any doubt; and I am fortunate
to recover them. Every dollar stolen is here. You have made a bad
investment, Mr. Spickles.”

“The storm was against my side of the question. If it had not been for
that, you would never have seen your money again,” muttered Spickles,
who appeared to think that an apology for his failure was due.

“Then, I ought to be grateful for the storm,” added the principal. “I
suppose the young gentleman who called with you yesterday assisted you
in this delicate operation.”

“I don’t answer questions,” growled the burglar.

“Perhaps Mr. Brookbine will be more communicative,” said the captain,
turning to the instructor in carpentry.

“I don’t know much about the others, only from what Dory said to me. He
told me about his dealings with these fellows; and as usual, he has
acted like a hero,” replied the instructor.

At this remark, there was a burst of applause, and all the students
manifested the most intense interest in the proceedings. The principal
looked at them, and perhaps he thought it would be cruel not to gratify
their excited curiosity to know the particulars of the capture of the
burglar.

“Mr. Spickles will be more comfortable if you remove the cords that bind
him; and I will invite him to take a seat on the platform by my side,”
continued Captain Gildrock, as he placed a chair for the culprit. “I
trust he will not make it necessary for me to put my hands upon him.”

Mr. Brookbine released the prisoner, and put him in the chair assigned
to him. If he thought of escaping, the stalwart forms of the principal
and the master-carpenter were sufficiently formidable to intimidate him.
Mr. Brookbine was then invited to explain what had happened during his
absence, and to do it so that all the students could hear him. The boys
were delighted at this unexpected privilege, and they listened with the
deepest interest to the narrative of Dory’s doings since he left the
school early in the morning. When the result of his battle in the boat
with the chief was reached, the students applauded lustily, and the
principal did not check them. With only a little less dignity he would
have done the same himself.

“Then, Dory has gone to look after the schooner, has he?” asked Captain
Gildrock, when the narrative was finished.

“Yes, sir: he and Mr. Jepson left me, to attend to this matter.”

“I hope they don’t intend to capture the schooner,” added the principal,
with a smile. “Dory is a prudent young man, and I don’t expect him to
undertake any Munchausen adventures.”

“He said he was going to watch the schooner: he did not say he intended
to capture the vessel,” replied the carpenter.

“How many persons were there on board of the schooner, Randolph?” asked
the principal.

“Five in all, all members of the Nautifelers Club,” replied Matt.

“The Nautifelers Club will not exist much longer. Under the present
circumstances, we will defer the lecture on sailing to another day. The
gale has subsided, and we will attend to the practical part of the
lesson. Randolph, you will take your class in the Lily; Glovering, you
may take Dory’s class in his absence; the rest of you will man the two
steamers.”

This announcement was received with applause, and Mr. Brookbine was
instructed to take his prisoner to the lock-up.

Continue Reading

DORY DORNWOOD RESORTS TO STRATEGY

“Do you mean to rob me, Squillipod?” demanded Angy, and he kicked away
at the legs of his conqueror. “Is this a Sunday-school accomplishment?”

“I said I was going to keep the money for you. Besides, as I said
before, it is better to have two thousand dollars than one thousand,”
replied Dory, with his usual good nature.

“But you are stealing it from me!” gasped the angry robber.

“You appear to have forgotten where you got this money, Angy.”

“That is nothing to do with it. What is mine belongs to me.”

“All right; and it belongs to me just now.”

“Do you mean to rob me of my money?” demanded the vanquished chief, who
did not seem to be capable yet of realizing his situation.

“Not exactly; but if you insist upon using that ugly word, I am only
going to rob you of what you stole from my uncle,” replied Dory, as he
put the pocket-book into the inside of his vest.

Without another word, the desperate chief rushed upon Dory, and made an
effort to upset him by lying down upon him, and kicking his shins. Of
course he could not accomplish any thing, though he made his captor
dance a jig in his attempts to escape the savage kicks of his prisoner.
But he was soon tired of this fruitless labor, and he stood still again.
It looked as though he had just begun to understand that Dory was in
earnest, and that he had lost the battle. Both of them looked at each
other, and then out upon the lake, which could be seen across the neck
of land.

The La Motte had got up her anchor, and under a reefed foresail was
standing towards the shore. When Angy saw her, he gave a yell that could
be heard half a mile. His companions heard him, and immediately headed
the schooner in the direction from which the cry had come. One of those
on board gave an answering yell.

“It is useless to wait for her,” said Dory, who would not have denied
that he felt some anxiety.

“I think I shall wait for her,” replied Angy.

“You will have to wait till the end of the year, then; for that schooner
will be aground in less than five minutes if she keeps on that course.”

One of the burglars was at the bow, sounding. The vessel was within the
eighth of a mile of the shore. Suddenly she came about, and the anchor
was let go. They had found they could come no nearer to the shore. Then
they began to shout the name of Angy.

“I think we won’t wait here any longer,” said Dory, placing his hand on
the collar of his prisoner.

“I think we will,” replied Angy, as he began to kick again.

Dory was obliged to knock him down again. Taking hold of his coat-collar
with both hands, he dragged him away from the inlet. By taking frequent
rests, he succeeded in moving him out of hailing-distance of the
schooner, though he could just hear the yells of the robbers on board of
her. Angy did not yell any more. The mode of transportation adopted by
Dory was not an agreeable one, and Angy promised to walk if his captor
would allow him to get up.

“You have knocked the skin all off my legs,” said he, as Dory assisted
him to rise.

“I want you to understand that I am going to take you to the Beech Hill
Industrial School, Angy, and if you get hurt on the way, it will be your
own fault,” said Dory impressively.

“I can’t stand being dragged like a dead snake, and I will walk,”
answered Angy. “But you don’t mean that you are going to hand me over to
old Squalipop?”

“I am going to hand you over to Captain Gildrock, the principal of our
school.”

“But this was nothing but a lark on the part of our fellows, the members
of the Nautifelers Club. We are up here to have some fun; and you ought
not to make a serious thing of it,” said Angy, trying to be amiable
again.

“Blow up a safe in the night, and take over two thousand dollars from
it, and that is nothing but a lark! You can present that argument to the
principal; and he will hear it, for he is not deaf. What’s that? I heard
voices,” said Dory, looking about him.

Dory was a little alarmed; for it occurred to him that the other
robbers, or some of them, had swum ashore. He listened, and heard the
voices again; but it came the wrong way to be from the crew of the
schooner. A moment’s reflection assured him that it must be some party
from the school. Then he shouted, and received an answer to his hail. It
sounded like the voice of Mr. Jepson.

Dory resumed his march with the prisoner. He began to feel as though he
was getting out of the woods. In a few minutes more he saw the engineer
and the carpenter hurrying towards him. Angy could not help seeing them
also; and he breathed a sigh, which was perhaps the knell of his hopes,
if he had had any hopes.

“What have you got there, Dory?” called Mr. Brookbine, as soon as he
discovered the prisoner and his custodian.

“One of them,” replied Dory.

“Where is the other one?” asked Mr. Jepson.

“The other four are off on the lake, on board of that schooner which
came into the river yesterday. I am glad to see you, for I am very
tired,” said Dory.

As he spoke, he seated himself on a log. In as few words as possible he
related what had occurred, and described his conflict with his prisoner.
Angy could not help putting in a few words to explain how he happened to
be beaten.

“We have examined the shore so far, and were following the road when we
heard shouting in this direction,” said Mr. Jepson.

“It was the voice of the prisoner, hailing his companions on board of
the schooner. I shouted as soon as I heard you,” replied Dory.

“It is all right, then; and we have nothing to do but take this fellow
back to the school,” added Mr. Brookbine.

“Can’t you do that alone, Mr. Brookbine?” asked Dory. “I brought him so
far alone.”

“Certainly I can,” replied the carpenter. “I think we shall find a team
as soon as we reach the road. There must be other parties out before
this time, for Captain Gildrock sent to all the officers in town. I will
send some of them over here.”

“Don’t do it, if you please, Mr. Brookbine. If Mr. Jepson will stay with
me, we will see where that schooner goes,” added Dory.

“The storm is over, and the principal will be up here before long in one
of the steamers,” said the machinist.




“You may take this pocket-book to my uncle, if you please, Mr.
Brookbine. It contains all the money taken from the safe,” continued
Dory, as he handed it to the carpenter.

“The principal told me he had lost four five-hundred-dollar bills and
some other money,” added Mr. Brookbine.

“It is all in that pocket-book.”

The master-carpenter took the prisoner by the arm, and marched him off
in the direction he had come, leaving Dory still seated on the log.
After the kickings, after the constrained positions he had been
compelled to keep, to say nothing of the battle he had fought, and the
excitement to which he had been subjected, Dory was almost worn out. But
in half an hour he was well rested, and able to take any step that the
occasion might require.

“But why do you remain here, Dory?” asked Mr. Jepson, after he had given
him more minute details of the experience of the morning than he had
been able to give before.

“I have been remaining here, so far, for the purpose of getting a little
rested, and to wait for the next move on the part of the robbers on
board of the schooner,” replied Dory, as he rose from his seat. “We will
go down to the lake now, if you please.”

“Are these burglars very desperate fellows?” asked the engineer.

“The fellow Mr. Brookbine has in charge is the worst one; but they are a
hard lot, any way.”

The instructor in mechanics took from his pocket the revolver with which
he had armed himself, rather to show that he was ready for an emergency,
than for any other purpose; and Dory was not sorry to see that he was
prepared for the worst that was likely to happen. He had some very
distinct views of his own, though he was not at all inclined to
undertake any hazardous enterprise.

Dory led the way to the inlet where he had left the boat. From this
place they could see the masts of the La Motte. She had anchored off
Camp-Meeting Point, which was in the shape of a pear, with the small end
next to the main land. The La Motte lay on the edge of the shoal which
extended all the way along the shore to Bluff Point. She might have gone
nearer to the shore, but her crew seemed to be afraid to risk it.

Dory asked the instructor to get into the boat, and he pulled down
nearly to the entrance of the inlet. Then they hauled the boat into the
bushes, and landed. Carefully keeping themselves out of sight, they
obtained a fair view of the vessel. Something seemed to be going on upon
her deck. The crew were lowering something into the water.

“What are they doing?” asked Mr. Jepson.

Before he had time to answer the question, one of the burglars shouted
three times, calling “Angy.” Dory ran to the head of the inlet, through
the trees, for all the shore was wooded. He expected the call to be
repeated, but he heard nothing for some time. Then he ran in the
direction of the point. Disguising his voice as much as he could, he
called to Mack. The answer came at once, and Dory hastened back to the
entrance of the creek. The burglars had a good right to suppose their
missing leader was on shore at the place where Dory had hailed them.

“They were putting the hatches into the water,” said he, when he joined
his companion.

“They have just dropped another into the water, and they are holding
them with lines,” added Mr. Jepson. “What are they going to do with
them?”

“They are going to use them as rafts, and they are going ashore to look
for their missing chief. They won’t find him,” replied Dory, laughing.

“But they will find us,” suggested the instructor.

“I don’t believe they will; for as soon as they are fairly on the shore,
we will make our next move. There they go! Two of them are going to
leave the schooner; and, according to my reckoning, there will be but
two left on board of her.”

They watched the movements of the two men as they embarked on their
floats. The heavy sea had subsided to a great degree, but it was still
rough. One of the rafts soon tipped its man off, and he continued his
voyage by simply clinging to it. The other was soon compelled to resort
to the same expedient.

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THE TURNING OF THE TABLES

Dory Dornwood had made no promises in order to procure his release from
the bonds with which he had been secured, and he felt free to fight his
way out of the scrape into which he had fallen, if he could. Mr. Michael
Angelo Spickles had looked, talked, and acted as though he regarded his
prisoner with the utmost contempt.

They did not live in the same moral atmosphere, in the first place; and
the leader of the robbers had heard something of the prowess of Dory
from Matt Randolph. By taking him in the rear, he had twice overcome
him, and tied his arms behind him. Perhaps the fact that he had been
able to do so was the most direct source of his contempt. He went to
Sunday school, as Angy described his general character; and he did not
believe that a lamb of this sort could be a lion when the occasion
required.

Angy had been perfectly sure that the exhibition of his revolver would
reduce the prisoner to complete subjection if he proved to be refractory
after he had released him. He had not intended to shoot him, when he
snapped the weapon at him, for he knew something of the consequences of
such a murderous act. But Dory did not “scare” as readily as he had
supposed he would, and the fact that he was a Sunday-school scholar did
not make a coward of him.

As soon as the revolver missed fire, Dory decided not to wait for a
dryer cartridge to explode. The boat was jumping on the waves at a
furious rate, and was in the act of falling off into the trough of the
sea when Angy made his demonstration with the pistol. To prevent this,
he had attempted to use his oars. Dory made a long spring, and threw
himself on the chief of the burglars.

He came down upon him like a heavy body dropped from some point
overhead. The thwart on which Angy was seated slipped out of its place
under the concussion, and the two combatants came down in the bottom of
the boat. Dory seized his intended victim by the throat, and contrived
to get his legs on the arms of the fallen leader. Then he choked him
with all his might as he struggled to free himself from this fierce
embrace.

The boat fell off into the trough of the sea, and the water poured in
upon them. Dory saw, that, if the affair was not finished very quickly,
the conclusion of it would have to be reached in the water, with no boat
under him. But no human being could stand the amount of choking
inflicted upon Angy, and he soon weakened under the punishment. With a
sudden movement, Dory turned him over on his face, and crowded his head
down into the water in the bottom of the boat.

The rope with which Dory had been bound was within his reach; and, as
soon as the resistance under him would permit, he grasped it with one
hand, while he held the victim with the other. Angy realized what he was
doing, even while his breath was bubbling in the water under him; and he
made his last effort to shake off the Sunday-school scholar. But he was
too weak to accomplish any thing, and he had to give up the battle.

It was the work of but a moment for Dory to tie his arms behind him,
though he did it in the most thorough manner. He picked up the revolver,
and put it in his pocket. Then he dragged the fallen chief to the
stern-sheets, and dumped him in the bottom. The tables had turned, and
the leading spirit of the Nautifelers Club was the prisoner. He was
utterly exhausted by his choking and his useless struggles, and he lay
catching his breath where his conqueror had thrown him.

Dory realized that he had no time to spare, if he intended to get the
boat to the shore right side up. He sprang to the oars, and brought the
tender around before the wind. He was too tired himself to row, and he
simply kept the craft from getting into any dangerous situation. With
one hand he bailed out the boat, while he used an oar with the other.

Angy was rapidly recovering from the effects of the battle, and he
worked himself into a sitting position. Then he looked about him, and
especially at the stalwart young man in front of him, whose prowess he
had held in contempt. He did what Dory had done a dozen times while he
was a prisoner,–he essayed to test the strength of his bonds; but they
had been adjusted by one who was skilled in handling rigging. He said
nothing, but the situation looked very bad to him. The Sunday-school
scholar was not an infant, and Angy was willing now to believe what Matt
Randolph had told him about the paragon of the school.

Dory bailed out the boat till it was comfortable in her, and then he
hastened the progress of the craft by the use of the oars. It still
rained in torrents, but there was a light in the east which indicated
that it was the “clearing-up shower.” Looking behind him, Dory
discovered the land, and felt something like Columbus on another
occasion. He knew just where he was; and he changed the course of the
tender, in order to make a little cove.

Before he could get to the shore, the rain ceased, and the mist cleared
off from the surface of the water. Suddenly the hurricane seemed to
subside. The clouds, which had been dense and black overhead, began to
break. It ended, like all storms in this locality which come from the
south, as abruptly as it begun.

The La Motte could be seen quite distinctly, for she was hardly a mile
distant. The four robbers on board of her were hoisting the foresail,
which looked as though it had been reefed; and they were evidently going
in search of their lost chief. Dory was happy enough to smile, and he
did smile; for he was out of the reach of any pursuers in a large
vessel. The wind had greatly abated its violence; and Dory had been
obliged to pull some distance from his former course, in order to make
the creek. But the water was shallow around him, and the schooner could
not come near the land.

The inlet was the mouth of a brook, and he pulled some distance into it.
When he came to a good place to land, he leaped ashore, and hauled up
the bow out of the water. Without a small boat, it was simply impossible
for the crew of the La Motte to follow him, even if they succeeded in
finding him.

Dory was tired enough to seat himself on a rock, and recover his
exhausted powers. He had a prisoner, and a resolute one, and he must get
him to the school in some manner. It was likely to be hard work. He took
Angy’s revolver from his pocket: he wiped the water off its barrels and
stock. Then he examined the cartridges. They were metallic, and ought
not to be affected by the water. Aiming at a small tree, he discharged
one of the barrels, and found it went off as well as it would if it had
not been in the water.

“That shooter served me a bad turn,” said Angy. “I never knew it to miss
before.”

“It served me a good turn if you aimed at me when you tried to fire it,”
added Dory. “However, it seems to be in condition to be useful to me if
I have occasion to use it.”

Its present possessor put it back into his pocket. He resolved to manage
his case so well that he would have no occasion to use such a deadly
weapon, and he shuddered at the very thought of firing at a human being.

“You have got ahead of me, Dory,” continued Angy, bestowing a searching
look upon his captor. “Chuck ruined me when he threw that painter
overboard.”

“In a moral point of view, that act may be your salvation,” added Dory.

“I don’t think I care about hearing any Sunday-school talk on this
subject,” replied Angy, with a scornful look on his face. “The time has
not yet come for my punishment.”

“Not just yet; but after you have thought of this thing for three or
five years in the State prison, you may come to the conclusion that the
Sunday school is not a bad institution for a fellow like you. If you had
attended one, and given heed to its instructions, you would feel a good
deal better than you do now.”

“I say, Dory, can’t we fix this thing up now?” asked Angy.

“Certainly we can; and that is just what we are going to do,” replied
Dory cheerfully. “I am only waiting a little while to rest. Then we will
fix it up.”

“You are a good fellow, or you could not have got the upper hands of
me.”




“Then you must be a good fellow, or you could not have rendered me the
same service.”

“I don’t think you understand me,” continued Angy uneasily. “I suppose
you like money, if you do go to Sunday school.”

“I don’t object to money: at least, I have no grudge against it.”

“That’s sensible; and I will give you a thousand dollars in cash on the
spot, if you will go home without me. Just untie my arms, and let me
pull off to the schooner, and it will be all right. You can go on the
biggest temperance spree you ever heard of on that sum,” said Angy
earnestly.

“Spot cash?”

“Spot cash.”

“You carry a good deal of money about with you, I see.”

“I happen to have it with me. You can take the money, and old Squalipop
will be none the wiser for what you have done.”

“Won’t he?”

“Not a bit of it! I shall get out of the way, and he won’t know that you
and I have met.”

“But I shall know it myself, and that will be just as unfortunate as
though he knew it.”

“You can go back with a thousand dollars in your pocket, which will come
handy during vacation.”

“Go back with a thousand dollars in my pocket,” repeated Dory, as though
he was musing over it. “A thousand dollars is a good thing to have, and
it is twice as good to have two thousand. I don’t think I shall be
satisfied with one thousand. But I think you had better come on shore,
Angy. I won’t ask you to do an impossible thing, and I will help you.”

Dory took the robber by the collar of his wet coat, and assisted him to
the shore. Angy made no resistance, though he evidently did not like the
proceedings of his captor. Dory seated him on a rock, and Angy continued
to argue in favor of the arrangement he had proposed.

“Do you really carry a thousand dollars about you? I have my doubts; and
if you have no objections, I should like to satisfy myself on this
point,” continued Dory; and as he spoke, he proceeded to make an
examination of the pockets of his prisoner.

“But I do object!” protested the prisoner, as he sprang to his feet with
an effort, and began to whirl about like a top. “Don’t put your hand on
me!”

“Be calm and gentle, Angy,” replied Dory, as he took the prisoner by the
collar, and tripped him up, so that he was forced to lie down, in spite
of himself.

With his foot on the form of his victim, Dory thrust his hand into all
the pockets of Angy; and from the one inside of his vest, he drew out a
pocket-book, thoroughly soaked with water. He opened it, and found a
roll of bank-bills, which had been hastily tumbled into one of the
pockets. He unrolled the bills enough to find four five-hundred-dollar
notes, which assured him that the money had been taken from his uncle’s
safe.

“I will keep this pocket-book for you,” said he.

The prisoner was furious, and began to kick at his captor.

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