“When people of your stamp fool around Frank Reade, Jr., you generally get left!” muttered the gallant stranger.
The sailors swore as they got up, and the captain drew a pistol.
“Cuss yer!” he growled, as he leveled the weapon at Frank’s head. “I’ll blow yer brains out fer them welts!”
Bang! went the pistol, and a cry escaped Frank.
He clapped his hand to the side of his head where the ball had grazed his scalp, and reeling back, fell senseless to the ground.
“Run, boys!” hoarsely cried the desperate captain. “I had ter do it or he’d got ther best of us! That shot’ll fetch ther p’lice!”
They rushed over to the whaling ship unseen, leaving their victim lying bleeding and senseless on the sidewalk.
Boarding the vessel and going into the cabin they found the lawyer there in the gloom with the drugged boy.
“Well?” eagerly asked Milburn. “Did you down the stranger?”
“Shot him!” answered Ben Bolt, with an oath. “I see yer got ther lad aboard all right.”