"Is this your final answer?"
"It is."
"Then I will help myself," said Randall, coolly, leaving his chair, and beginning to lift up the trap-door, beneath which was the miser's box of treasure.
As soon as Peter fairly comprehended his design, and saw the gold coins in the grasp of the purloiner, unable to restrain himself, he threw himself upon the mate with a cry as of a lioness deprived of her young, and grasped the strong man by the throat with fingers, which, though naturally weak, despair and rage made strong. At all events, it was not particularly comfortable, and provoked Randall, who seized the old man in his strong arms, and, with a muttered curse, hurled him to the floor, where he lay pale and senseless.
"Confusion!" muttered Randall, in dismay, for Peter had uttered a shrill scream as he fell. "I am afraid I shall get into an ugly scrape."
He was not altogether wrong.
The scream had been heard by two, at least, who were passing. The door was burst open, and in rushed Bill Sturdy and Charlie, our young hero, who had just returned to Boston, and were passing on their way up from the wharf at which the vessel was lying.
"Mr. Randall!" exclaimed Charlie, in surprised recognition.
Randall strove to escape through the opened door, but Sturdy, seizing him in his powerful grasp, cried, "Not so fast, my hearty! You've been up to some mischief, and if I don't see justice done you, may I never see salt water again!"