But before many minutes they heard a sound of some one scrambling down the cliff close by, and presently Mr. Thornton himself crept sheepishly up to the group.
“Please, Mr. Pirate Captain,” he said, “may I come back to dinner? When I ran away I forgot about Aunt Clare’s story. I don’t mind starving to death, as I came very near doing on this desert island, but I could not bear to lose the story. Let me dine and hear the tale, then I will walk the plank gladly.”
“Have you any ransom?” asked the pirate chief, taking a huge bite of sandwich.
Mr. Thornton slapped his pockets doubtfully. Then his face brightened. “Yes! I do happen to have one bit of treasure about me which you did not take away,” he said. “You forgot, I think, to go through my pockets.”
He drew out a bag of peanuts and handed it to Bulldog Bill, then seized a sandwich in each hand. “Fair exchange!” he cried. The children set up a shout of delight.
“It is a good treasure,” said Bulldog Bill approvingly, as he helped himself.
“I would have starved rather than eat them,” said Mr. Thornton, with a sad voice. “I bought them as a present for my innocent children at home. But since I have fallen into the power of this pirate crew you must do with them as you think best.”
Now the pirates knew what it was best to do with peanuts; and they did it. When every one had eaten all he possibly could, the captain suddenly remembered that he was a pirate. He put on his tarpaulin hat, and seizing his sword, said sternly to Aunt Clare:—
“It is now time for the story. Prisoner, begin; but beware how you tell us one which we have heard before. If it is a chestnut you shall die.”
“Fierce Captain,” said Aunt Clare, “did you ever hear the tale called ‘The Pirate Hoard’?”