Urged on by their hunger the boys lost no time in attacking the tin pail. It contained but "grits," a small hominy, cooked with a piece of bacon, yet never it seemed to the lads had they tasted better food. Only the merest crumbs remained when Doright entered bearing an armful of clanking chains. These he threw on the floor.
"Make 'em fast," ordered Lopez, keeping the muzzle of his automatic pistol ever trained on the group before him. "Put them leg irons on good and tight. Make sure of your work this time."
Obediently the negro clamped the irons tightly about their ankles. Then drawing a longer chain through the leg irons he lifted a board from the floor to pass the long chain under a heavy hewn joist.
A padlock securely fastened the ends of this longer chain and thus the boys were shackled beyond hope of releasing themselves.
"Now, just to make sure, we'll leave Doright on guard and he'll have a gun in his hand. He likes to shoot, too. And he knows how."
Never had the voice of the outlaw sounded so coarse and disagreeable as now when hope seemed gone. His villainous face lighted with evil triumph as he surveyed the plight of his captives.
"Looks like old times," he gloated, "only now you boys are wearing irons that have graced the leg of many a slave. And there's a black boy guarding the white boys now. That's funny."
Throwing back his head he gave vent to peal after peal of laughter.
"What are you expecting to do with us?" inquired Arnold, who was longing to get at the throat of his jailor.
"Well, Wyckoff hasn't decided yet," replied Lopez. "He has found out that it's a mighty uncomfortable job keeping prisoners and feeding them. He couldn't keep this other boy on the schooner for it was too public. When you came chasing into port, he got scared. I was uncomfortable, too. If you had hailed me then, I guess I'd have let you take the boy off the schooner. When we got Wyckoff, though, he said it wouldn't do. Youall will never have a chance at the Treasure."