a guffaw.

“Treasure, hey?” cried the bearded white man. “Who told you there was treasure there?”

“Why—” Nicky stammered, hesitated, then decided that it could make no difference anyway whether he told it all or not—with Mr. Neale unaccounted for, with Sam and his sloop gone, with their own selves captive, what chance had they for treasure? They’d be lucky, he thought, to be set ashore, marooned like old-time sailors—and spared a worse fate!

He told of finding the old can on the islet.

“Hum-m-m!” mused the man, clearing his throat. “Maybe you won’t find a treasure—but, anyhow, you’ll get a square meal—then, we’ll see!”

“Where are you taking us?” demanded Nicky, once more brave.

“Why, to our floating palace. Maybe—who knows—maybe it’ll turn out to be a treasure hunt, after all. In that case the boys’ll welcome it for a change from hi-jacking!”

“Hi—hi—” Cliff gasped.

“Hi—jacking, he said,” Tom explained.

“I know it,” Cliff shivered, “and that makes it worse.”

“Worse than being in the hands of rum-runners?”

“Worse! I’d say so! Hi-jackers are pirates if ever anybody was. The rum-runners bring contraband, and illegal liquor, into the States against the law. But the hi-jackers are men who hold up their boats and trucks and steal from them.”

“I hadn’t heard about them,” said Nicky.

“Well,” said Cliff under his breath as their boat scudded over the waters of the Sound toward a small island near the upper end, “well, it would be bad enough to be caught by people who break the law; but the ones who prey on them are about the roughest and toughest people in the world. They are modern pirates and no mistake!”“Well,” said Nicky, shrugging his shoulders, “we’ll get through somehow, and anyway—we eat!”

Behind the island they found a trim, beautifully built, low, rakish craft. She was a power boat, about sixty feet long—a little more, perhaps. She lay low in the water and was of such a dull color that she could scarcely be seen in the dark.

They touched her side at a hanging ladder.

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