"I find we shall need a cart, John," said my great-uncle.
"Rambunctious, is he?" answered Silver with a wink. "Well, we has it all ready, and the tarpaulin over it, right here in the garding under the blessed apple-trees. 'Tis only a step to the boats, to be sure."
My father turned very pale.
"You—you— My God, Murray, you can't kidnap the boy this way! Think! There are troops in Fort George. Once the hue and cry is raised you'll be——"
"But it will not be raised," replied Murray calmly. "I regret it, but we shall be obliged to tie up you and Peter so that you will be incapacitated until some kind friend happens to call on the morrow. By that time we shall be at sea."
"You are mad!" cried my father. "Every frigate on the station will be after you."
My great-uncle chuckled mildly.
"That is an old sensation. I have known it for twenty-odd years."
I snatched up the chair upon which I had been sitting and brandished it over his head.
"Call off these scoundrels of yours or I'll batter out your brains," I snarled.