“I’ll have the law of you!”
“All right. We’ll replace it.”
“Bring it back!”
“All right.”
“Bring—back—my—fence—!”
Further and further away the schooner moved, and fainter and fainter grew the voice that called after them, till at last but a low and scarcely audible tone could be heard.
As the vessel moved away, Bart stood at the mainmast. He had worked hard the day before, running some lanyards through the truck, and now the moment had come for his reward. Bruce Rawdon fired his pistol, and as the report died away, up to the mast head went the black flag of the “B. O. W. C.”
And all the boys greeted it with a cheer.