"Hold him down, lads," said the chief, as Bob struggled furiously with his captors. "What's this yere he's got in his hand? A hatchet? Friday, take it away from him! An' you, Xury, go into the cave an' fetch out that rope. You were tryin' to get away, were you, Bobby Jennings? We'll fix you this time. It beats all the world how he got by that ar dog."
"Why, he's killed him," exclaimed Xury, who, on going into the cave after the rope, stumbled over the body of Sam's favorite. "If he aint as teetolly dead as a smoked herring, I hope I may never take another passenger across this harbor."
This announcement created great consternation among the band, and some of the members were undecided whether to retain their hold upon the prisoner, or to jump up and take to their heels. From some cause or other, they seemed to believe that a boy who was brave enough to use a hatchet, even on a bull-dog, was a dangerous fellow to have about.
"Killed!" repeated the governor, in astonishment. "Be you sartin an' sure he's dead?"
Xury struck a match in order to satisfy himself on that point; and as soon as the lantern was lighted, Tom, who was the only one, besides the boy in the cave, not employed in holding the prisoner, drawled out—
"O yes, he's as dead as a door-nail. If there's going to be so much quarreling and fighting goin' on, I don't want any thing more to do with your society."
"There haint been no quarrelin' an' fightin' yet, that I know of," said the chief, as he held Bob's arms behind him, while Friday tied them with the rope Xury threw out to them. "I don't allow no such work among my men. Pick him up an' carry him in, lads," he added, as soon as he had satisfied himself that his prisoner was once more secure. "Now, Bobby Jennings, I reckon you'll stay here fur awhile."
The first thought that passed through the fisher-boy's mind, when he again found himself a prisoner, was, that the governor would revenge the death of the dog by giving him a thrashing; but, to his surprise, he had very little to say about it. After seeing his prisoner disposed of, he examined the oar which had been broken during the fight, looked at the hatchet Bob had used, and finally, he glanced at the dog. "He wasn't much account, no how," said he. "Any animal that'll let such a lookin' feller as Friday whip him in a fair fight, with nothin' but a boat-hook, wouldn't do much good huntin' goats. Ketch hold of the chain an' haul him out, lads."
Every member of the band lent prompt and cheerful assistance in carrying out this order. The dog had not been a favorite with them, and they were not sorry to get rid of him.