"No, you don'd," growled Carl, "nod as anypody knows of. Lay dere, und lay keviet. Vat's der next t'ing, Matt?"
"Go for a rope, Carl," answered Matt; "better get two ropes."
"Dot's me," and Carl sprang up and raced off toward the place where the different parts of the Hawk were piled.
He was back in a minute. Then, while Matt held Whistler under the point of the six-shooter, and Dick did the same by Jurgens, Carl tied the hands of each at his back, and used the free end of the rope to bind each prisoner's feet at the ankles.
"Now," proceeded Matt, "gag each of them. We can't have any yelling while we're doing the rest of our work."
Dick cut two strips of canvas from the tent wall, and these were tightly bound between the prisoner's teeth.
"How vas dot?" exulted Carl, standing over the prisoners when they had been bound and gagged. "You vill sic some more dogs on me, vill you, Churgens? Vell, I don'd t'ink! You ditn't make mooch ven you grabbed dot baper of Downsent's und run off mit it, hey?"
"We've no time for useless talk, Carl," spoke up Matt, sharply. "Only part of our work is done—the smallest part; the biggest thing of all lies ahead of us."
"What's that, matey?" queried Ferral.
"The recapture of the Grampus."