"I wish I knew whether ye was lyin'," muttered Hickey, thoughtfully.
"I don't feel a bit tired, yet. Do you, Jerry?"
"Me? The exercise has warmed me up fine," grinned the smaller sailor.
"Mercy, messieurs, mercy!" wailed Gaston, sinking down to his shaking knees, for he feared that these grim tormentors meant to kill him.
"I'd just as soon you'd let up on the scoundrel, if you don't mind, mates," broke in Jack. "You see what a cur he is when he isn't having it all his own way. I told him, back in the cave, that he'd be just this sort of a fellow if the tables happened to be turned."
"Did ye say ye was going to turn him over to the officers?" asked
Hickey.
"Yes," spoke Jack Benson, decisively. "A fellow plying the trade of this one needs to be locked up as long as possible."
"Oh, no, no, no, my brave Captain!" implored Gaston, wobbling around upon his knees so as to face the submarine boy. "Not the jail! Not the prison! Me! I have always been as free as the birds of the air. I would die in prison."
"I can't see where much loss will come in if you do," retorted Jack, coldly. "Hal, you brought the handcuffs out with you?"
He held up both pairs.
"No, no, no!" pleaded Gaston, almost tearfully. "Not such disgrace as that!"