Then, before Blight could realise the sudden turn of affairs, he felt the contact of the muzzle of a smoking revolver against his temple.
"Hands up, Blight!" exclaimed Mr. McKay resolutely.
The would-be murderer's weapon fell from his nerveless grasp and immediately his hands were raised high above his head.
The noise of the firing had aroused the sleeping inmates of the cabin, and Andy, Terence, and even Ellerton rushed through the narrow doorway into the well.
"Get hold of a few pieces of lashing and secure the rascal," said Mr. McKay calmly.
"You are not hurt?" asked his son anxiously.
"Hurt? Not a bit of it. No thanks to this beauty, though. See!"
And, still keeping the weapon at the would-be assassin's head, he pointed to the made-up figure of himself, in which the hilts of the two knives glittered in the moonlight.
Andy and Terence lost no time in securing the ankles of the prisoner. Then ordering him to lower his hands, the lads deftly lashed his elbows together behind his back.
"So, Mr. James Blight, alias 'Chinese Pork,' I find your delightful character has undergone little change during the last twenty years. One would have thought that your unpleasant experiences in connection with the Sea Belle——"