"There's a guy named Durgan lives over yonder in a little clearing 'bout a hundred yards up from the mouth of the creek," said one of the men. "Lives there all year 'round alone, fishin' an' raisin'

turtles fer market. Queer ol' cuss, kind-a looney,---but he's friendly to us and willin' to oblige us by showin' a light in his cabin winder when the coast is clear."

"You theenk dat will be next-----"

The rest of that question was lost to Hugh, because the man who had first spoken muttered a warning of silence, then added something in a still lower tone. In vain Hugh tried to catch the words. Then the man whose accent indicated that he was either a Creole or a Haytian spoke again.

"Eet is not alway so easy to tell when dere will be no moon," he said.

"And der wind, eet blow effery way---in one day."

"Never mind,---just wait," came the answer. "One o' these nights, perhaps to-morrow, we'll-----"

Again the sentence was lost. Hugh frowned impatiently. However, as they went on talking he heard some more of their designs---in particular, the fact that the dynamite was to be used for blowing up a railroad bridge.

Thinking that he had heard enough by this time and knowing that if they discovered him he would be captured as a spy, Hugh began to wonder how and when he should leave his hiding place and crawl back to camp with the least risk of being observed. At any moment the men might emerge from the hut or others of their gang might join them. Yet he did so want to learn where they had come from, and whether their vessel was lying at anchor somewhere among these many islands! So he lay there, flat on the sand, scarcely daring to breathe lest he should be heard, heartily wishing the men would give some more definite hint of their purposes, and devoutly hoping that none of his friends, missing him from camp, would come in search of him with shouts and calls!

"That would be fierce!" he whispered inaudibly. "That would give me away and scare off these jail birds mighty quick!"

Suddenly the distant tchug-tchug of a gasoline motor boat came to his ears. Raising himself on his elbows, he peered over the stump, out across the glittering blue water, and saw a good-sized dory, manned by a solitary individual who wore light oilskins, coming swiftly toward the hut on the beach.

"That must be the motor boat that pa.s.sed our camp last night,"

thought Hugh. "I feel sure now, surer than ever, that I heard it go by in the darkness. But it's coming over from the mainland now.

Wonder who's that man at the tiller?"

Down he sank again and waited.

Presently the motor-dory drew up alongside the strip of beach in front of the bamboo hut and came to a standstill. The man in oilskins called out:

"Hey! You-all in thar!"

Instantly one of the three rascals came forth from the hut.

"h.e.l.lo, Durgan!" he called, not at all loudly, through his cupped hands. "What's the news?"

"Beat it!" was Durgan's warning answer. "Thar's a campin' party on th' island below here---I seen 'em 'bout ten minutes ago---old Cap'n Lem Vinton, an Injun, an' four or five boys."

"Lem Vinton, eh? All right, Joe, we're going. Can you tow us around Spider Key?"

"Nope. I'm goin' home now," Joe Durgan replied tersely, with the abruptness of one who has done an irksome duty and would avoid further responsibility for the present.

Suiting actions to words, he quickened his engine and made off toward the Florida sh.o.r.e.

His boat had scarcely become a speck on the water, when Hugh began to crawl back to the other side of the mound. Joe Durgan, who was evidently not nearly so "looney" as represented, had warned the smugglers of the presence of the _Arrow_ near their retreat, and Hugh realized that no time should be lost if Vinton were to spread sail and go in pursuit of them or of the _Petrel_.

"Now's the time for me to beat it, too," he resolved. "While they're talking they won't hear me or see me, and I can hurry back to the place where I left my coat and shoes."

When he had gone some little distance without being discovered, he fancied he was safe and rose to his feet, intending to run as fast as his legs could carry him---which was no snail's pace, indeed! Scarcely had he begun to move forward, however, when he heard a shout, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps.

Being fleet of foot and having no desire to be caught and treated as a spy, he set off running at full speed. The ground was quite rough and he had to turn aside to avoid bushes and hollows, yet he had no difficulty in keeping ahead of his pursuers. The very impediments in his way served to r.e.t.a.r.d pursuit, and he did not despair of escaping. He had to cross over a ridge, at the top of which he was exposed to view. He had just reached it, when he heard some one shout:

"Stop! Come down,---or I'll fire!"

"Fire away!" thought Hugh, knowing how unlikely it was that any one would be so desperate as to shoot at him. "You can't stop me with that foolish bluff!"

Ignoring the threat, he rushed down the little hill, hoping soon to find some spot where he could turn off to one side or the other, hide in shelter, and thus evade the rascals. He was surprised to find that he had gone so far in his wanderings, that the smugglers'

island was so much larger than it had seemed. For a moment he felt a vague fear that he had lost his bearings and was running in the wrong direction.

To ascertain how near his pursuers were, he threw a glance over his shoulder. This proved fatal to his hopes, for his foot caught in a tangle of crab-gra.s.s and down he came headlong. Over and over he rolled; and then for some seconds he lay still, a little dazed by his fall, unable to move. The next minute he found himself in the grasp of two men.

"Hullo, youngster! What made you try to git away from us?" asked one of them in an angry tone. He was a short, thick-set, burly man, with black eyes that seemed to glitter like a serpent's. His huge hands fastened upon Hugh's arm in a grip of steel.

Hugh replied truthfully but not very wisely: "I'm on my way to camp, and I want to get there as soon as possible."

"Camp, eh? Who are you?"

"I don't see what that has to do with my being in a hurry to get there."

"Maybe not, but we want to know where you was hidin' before you hit the trail," said the other man, a dark-visaged fellow with a sinister cast in one eye. "Come on now! Spit it out!"

"I was just exploring this island for fun," replied Hugh. "I was hunting for---"

"You were hiding!" vehemently declared the black-eyed man.

"Whereabouts?"

"On the ground, of course; there are no trees to climb around here."

"None o' yer guff!" The swarthy captor dealt Hugh a hard thwack on the side of his head. "What's yer business here, anyhow? Where's yer camp?"

No answer.

"By gad, I'll make ye open up!" cried the cross-eyed knave, losing his temper. He was about to strike Hugh again, when the other man, still holding the lad in a steel-trap grip, pushed him aside with one foot.

"Hold off, Harry," he commanded gruffly. "I know where his camp is. He's one of Lem Vinton's crew. That's the _Arrow_ over yonder, but he ain't going back to it yet awhile."

"Let me go!" shouted Hugh, struggling to free himself from the grasp of those sinewy hands. "Let me go, I say! What---what do you want with me? I tell you---help! Hel-----"

The frantic shout was checked by another blow from the angry ruffian's fist, and Hugh measured his length upon the sand.

"Shut up, will ye?" snarled the man, thrusting a bunch of sharp-edged gra.s.s into Hugh's mouth. "Look here, Branks," he added, "we can't let this kid blow the gaff on us to Lem Vinton. Why, the cap'n wouldn't wait ten minutes before he'd sail out to find that blamed cutter ag'in; and then we'd have him and the _Petrel_ on our trail."

"Harry, you're right---dead right. The boy has got to come with us, until-----"

"Sure! Here, lend a hand. Tie his arms."

With their leather belts they bound the lad's hands securely, despite his struggles. Once, by a manful effort, he managed to break away and run forward a few yards. But they were after him instantly, before he could get the gag out of his mouth. In the tussle that followed, he kicked and writhed so vigorously that the cross-eyed captor howled with pain. Then, beside himself with rage, he felled Hugh by a blow on the head.

Myriads of stars reeled in the sunlight before Hugh's eyes, then the light of day changed to pitch darkness, and Hugh sank down on the sand---a limp heap, unconscious.