"How, then, did you stand it," said Archie, with a sly wink at his companions, "when you were perched upon the 'very top of the middle mast' of your ship, looking out for whales?"
"Eh?" exclaimed Arthur. "Why—I—you know"—
Arthur was cornered. He did not know how to answer this question, so he kneeled down by the spring, and took a drink, in order to gain time to reflect. "I was obliged to stand it," said he, at length, looking up at his companions. "I couldn't help myself. I say, boys," he added, desiring to turn the conversation into another channel, "you've got us into a nice scrape by your cowardice. If you had followed me, those fellows would have been the prisoners now."
At this moment the robber chief approached the group, holding in his hand a sheet of soiled paper and a lead pencil. "Take these," said he, handing the articles to Frank, "and write to your uncle, telling him how matters stand. Say to him that you and your friends are prisoners, that I am going to take you where no one will ever think of looking for you, and that when I am paid eighty thousand dollars in gold, I will set you at liberty, and not before. Tell him, further, that I shall send this note to him by one of my men; and that if he does not return in safety by sunrise to-morrow morning, I will make scare-crows of you."
Frank picked up his saddle-bags, which he used as a desk, and, after borrowing the robber's bowie-knife to sharpen his pencil, he began the letter, and wrote down what Pierre had dictated, using as nearly as possible the chief's own words.
"That's all right," said the latter, when his prisoner had read the letter aloud.
"Now," said Frank, "may I not add a postscript, telling Uncle James that we are well and hearty, and that we have been kindly treated, and so on."
"Certainly; only be careful that you do not advise him to capture my messenger."