BUT BEFORE HE COULD UTTER ANOTHER WORD, THERE WAS
A TERRIFIC SHOCK.—[Page 59].

THE
MOTOR RANGERS
ON BLUE WATER

Or

THE SECRET OF THE DERELICT

BY

MARVIN WEST

AUTHOR OF "THE MOTOR RANGERS' LOST MINE," "THE MOTOR
RANGERS THROUGH THE SIERRAS," ETC., ETC.

NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1911,
BY
HURST & COMPANY

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. [The Watcher of the Trail]
II. [Colonel Morello Charters a Schooner]
III. [Like Thieves in the Night]
IV. [Run Down]
V. [Nat in Dire Straits]
VI. [The Voice in the Dark]
VII. [A Desperate Plan]
VIII. [How it Worked Out]
IX. [Adrift in the Pacific]
X. [The Tigers of the Sea]
XI. [Tricked!]
XII. [A Menace of Old Ocean]
XIII. [Adrift]
XIV. [A Mysterious Craft]
XV. [A Face that Terrified]
XVI. [What Befell in the Fog]
XVII. [The "Island Queen's" Secret]
XVIII. [Lost on the Western Sea]
XIX. [The Island]
XX. [The Boys Encounter a Big Surprise]
XXI. [Attacked by Marquesans]
XXII. [A Strange Meeting]
XXIII. [Nat's Skyrocket Artillery]
XXIV. [The Last of the "Nettie Nelsen"]

THE MOTOR RANGERS ON BLUE WATER

CHAPTER I.
THE WATCHER OF THE TRAIL.

A party of horsemen, riding in single file, was making its way down the steep, rugged trail leading from the interior to Santa Inez. Although they had not as yet glimpsed the little mission town, which was their destination, the blue, sparkling glint of the Pacific had, for some time, been visible through the columnar trunks and dark foliage of the red woods.

The four persons composing the little cavalcade seemed to be in the best of spirits as their sure-footed cayuses ambled along. Their voices rose high amid the hush of the densely wooded slopes. Squirrels, blue-jays, and other denizens of the Coast Range, fled incontinently as they heard the high, boyish tones intruding into their domains.

But they need not have been afraid. Fond as the Motor Rangers, all three, were of exercising their "twenty-twos" on any "small deer" that came in sight, their minds, just then, were far too much occupied to think of hunting.

"See the boat yet, Nat?" inquired Joe Hartley, a stalwart, sun-bronzed lad of about seventeen. He addressed a boy of about his own age, who rode slightly in advance of the rest. Like Joe, Nat Trevor was attired in typical mountaineer's costume, set off by a jaunty sombrero with a leather band round the crown.

Nat turned in his saddle.

"I could hardly sight her yet, Joe," he rejoined. "But she'll be there on time. Captain Akers would not disappoint me, I know."

"Y-y-y-y-you've go-go-got acres of f-f-f-faith in him, so to speak," came from the third young rider in line, Ding-dong—otherwise William,—Bell, of course.

Nat shook his quirt at the stuttering lad with mock anger.

"If you don't stop your everlasting punning, Ding-dong, I'll—I'll——"

"Have ter leave him behind. I reckon that would be the worst punishment for him," struck in a loosely built, bronzed man, who rode behind Ding-dong and sat his horse with the easy grace of the practised rider. His leather "chaps," blue shirt, and red handkerchief, carelessly knotted about his sun-burned throat, also proclaimed him a typical westerner of the Sierran region. And so he was, for most of our readers will by this time have recognized in him Cal Gifford, the former driver of the Lariat stage, who had so materially aided our young Motor Rangers in their adventures in the wild region which now lay behind them. All of these stirring incidents were related in a previous volume of this series, "The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras."

By a hair rope, which was "half-hitched" round the horn of his saddle, Cal led an exceedingly small burro, with sagely flapping ears. The animal bore a big canvas pack, which, besides containing the provisions of the party on their dash from the mountains to the coast, carried also the object of their expedition—namely, the box of sapphires found in the dead miner's—Elias Gooddale's—cabin.

On the return of the boys to Big Oak Flat from their Sierran excursion they had found themselves facing the problem of the safe conveyance of the precious stones to a community of law and order where they might be placed in the proper hands till Elias Gooddale's heirs could be found.

But, as will be recalled by the readers of "The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras," Colonel Morello's band was still at large, and it had been decided that as the outlaws already knew of the existence of the sapphires, and the identity of their custodians, that it would be dangerous to attempt to transport such a valuable freightage through the lonely mountains by automobile.

The car, therefore, had been left in charge of Herr Muller to take through to Santa Barbara. The boys, for their part, adopted with all enthusiasm Nat's plan, which was to tell Captain Akers to bring Nat's motor boat "Nomad" from Santa Barbara and meet them on the coast at Santa Inez, an old mission town with a passable harbor. It was agreed that transportation of the sapphires in this way would offer few difficulties and no dangers, and as Herr Muller politely but firmly declined to go a-cruising, the boys were relieved of the task of finding some one to take their fine touring car through to their home town.

As for the "Nomad," she was a sixty-foot cruising motor boat of thirty horse-power. Nat and his chums had seen her keel laid before they set out for the Sierran trip, and when the question of moving the sapphires came up, as has been said, Nat at once hit on the idea of combining business and pleasure by sending word to her builder, Captain Akers, to bring her up to Santa Inez. Thus they would experience the delights of a trial trip and at the same time feel that the sapphires were safe and sound.

Lest it be wondered at that a lad of Nat's age could own such a fine craft, we must refer our new readers to the first volume of this series, "The Motor Rangers' Lost Mine." In this book it was told how Nat and his chums routed some rascals in Lower California, and how Nat came into his own. Inasmuch as his chums had also, by his generosity, been made sharers in his good fortune, none of the boys was short of pocket money. In fact, had they not all three been steady-going, well-balanced lads it might have been said they had too much.

But the Motor Rangers, instead of expending their money foolishly, preferred to lay it out in healthy, exciting expeditions, and that they had already been recompensed by a goodly share of adventures we know. Possibly a word further in relation to the sapphires they were transporting may not be amiss.

The gems, then—which were all in the rough—had been found by Nat and his chums in what had at first appeared an abandoned hut in the Sierras. On investigating the place, however, they discovered the body of the former occupant of the hut, a miner named Elias Gooddale. He had evidently succumbed to the rigors of the preceding Sierran winter. Although everything else in the hut had been pretty well devoured by mountain rats, a tin despatch box had escaped mutilation. Opening this the lads found papers therein, telling of the hiding place of some sapphires under the hearthstone. Gooddale, with a dying effort, had also penned a will, leaving the gems to his unnamed next of kin. It was recalled by Cal Gifford that Gooddale had come to the community some years before and had engaged on a quest for sapphires. He was adjudged crazy by the other miners, but he kept steadily on his strange hunt. Judging by the boys' find, it appeared that death must have overtaken him in the very moment of victory.

However that may have been, it so happened that while the party was examining its strange find a face appeared at the window. It was the countenance of Ed. Dayton, one of Col. Morello's principal lieutenants. The boys had had trouble with him in Lower California—as related in "The Motor Rangers' Lost Mine"—and he had had no reason to love them. As ill luck would have it, he saw the sapphires as they were spread out before the finders' wondering eyes.

The sequel was the pursuit of the Motor Rangers by Col. Morello and his band, whose cupidity had been excited by the rich discovery. The outlaws surrounded the boys and their friends in a hut in a canyon and escape seemed to be impossible. But Nat, by a bit of clever strategy, managed to slip out, and after a wild ride through an abandoned lumber flume reached Big Oak Flat. A posse was formed and arrived in time to rescue Cal Gifford and the rest. But Morello and his band escaped, only one or two minor members of the rascally organization being wounded in the battle that followed the arrival of the posse.

Leaving the sapphires in the care of Sheriff Jack Tebbetts, of Big Oak Flat, the boys and their party continued their motoring trip through the mountains. At its conclusion they returned to the primitive settlement only to hear that Morello had been committing fresh depredations. Sheriff Tebbetts strongly advised against the gems being carried through the mountains by auto on that account. Thus it came about that our party came to be riding to the little coast town of Santa Inez, the trail to which laid through comparatively settled, orderly country.

But we have deserted our friends altogether too long while we have taken this lengthy but necessary digression. Let us now return and accompany them as they round a turn in the trail and find themselves zigzagging down the mountainside in full view of Santa Inez and the glorious Pacific.

"What a queer little town!" exclaimed Nat, as the panorama below suddenly burst upon them.

He gazed in an interested way at the collection of red-tiled roofs and adobe walls below them. Several modern cottages mingled with the ancient Spanish architecture without detracting a bit from its quaintness. Above the other roofs, and some little distance removed from them, imposed a tower pierced with numerous openings, within which swung ancient bells. This was the tower of the old mission of Santa Inez. It had been long abandoned, but still remained a pathetic monument to a great religious movement.

Situated as it was, at the foot of the mountainside, which was clothed with pungent bay and madrone trees, and facing a blue bay of horseshoe shape, a more picturesque little place it would be hard to imagine.

"But the boat?" exclaimed Joe, as they advanced down the steeply pitched trail. "I don't see a sign of her."

It was true. The sparkling, deep blue bay was empty of life. That is, if a fair-sized black schooner, which lay at some little distance offshore, be excepted.

All the party showed their disappointment. They had confidently expected to behold the trim outlines of Nat's "Nomad" as soon as they came in full view of Santa Inez. Blank looks were exchanged. Even Cal, who had had no experience of the sea and indeed rather mistrusted it, looked downcast.

"Maybe a whale swallered yer ship, Nat," he ventured.

In spite of his chagrin over the non-arrival of the "Nomad," Nat had to laugh, for Cal had made the remark just recorded in no joking sense. The mountaineer, who had hitherto obtained only distant glimpses of the ocean, fully believed it was inhabited by monsters capable of devouring whole vessels.

"There are some big whales in the Pacific, all right, Cal," said the boy, shoving back his sombrero, "but I hardly think that any one has yet heard of one capable of absorbing a sixty-foot motor boat. And—hullo—what's that? Hurray!"

His cheer was speedily echoed by the others who had fixed their eyes on him when he broke off so excitedly in the middle of a sentence.

Coming round the southern point of the horseshoe-shaped bay was a trim and trig white craft with one slender mast, but no funnel. She was coming swiftly, too. The white foam at her bow showed how she was cutting through the water.

"'Nomad,' ahoy!" shouted Nat, standing erect in his stirrups and waving his sombrero, utterly oblivious of the fact that at that distance it would have been quite impossible to have seen, much less heard, him.

The others caught his enthusiasm. Indeed the "Nomad" was a sight to make the veriest landsman wax enthusiastic. As she cut round the point and neared the land they could catch the glint of polished brass and wood work when she rolled to the Pacific swell.

Presently the lone figure on her bridge could be seen to issue an order to another man, who was on the forward part of the little motor craft. There was a splash at the "Nomad's" bow, and she came to a standstill.

"Anchored!" cried Nat.

At the same instant the figure they had descried on the bridge was seen running aft. In a moment, from the jack-staff astern, appeared something that made all their hearts beat a bit faster—Old Glory! The land breeze caught the flag's folds and whipped them out splendidly.

"Well, boys, there's the gallant little craft that will take us all safe to Santa Barbara and give us many a jolly cruise beside!" cried Nat, a note of exultation in his voice.

"Our dream ship!" cried Joe poetically.

"Our ter-ter-ter-treasure ship you mean," sputtered Ding-dong. "She'll get the sapphires safely through and Morello can hang about all he wants to, waiting for us to show up in the good old automobile."

"Yep, I reckon we've fooled the old coyote this trip, smart as he is," chuckled Cal, leaning over to adjust a stirrup leather.

As he did so, from the brush which grew close up to the trail on either side, there came a sharp snap—a breaking branch evidently.

In the silence that had followed the former stage driver's remark, the sudden noise sounded as loud and as startling as a pistol shot. Cal straightened up instantly. But quick as he was, whoever or whatever had caused the sudden noise did not further reveal their presence. The boys searched about for a bit, but their investigation was only perfunctory, for they were too eager to get on board the "Nomad" to spend much time at anything else.

"Guess it must have been a deer, or a rabbit, or something," said Nat, as they remounted and set off once more.

The others agreed, and thought no more of the matter. But Cal belonged to a school that finds cause for suspicion in any unexplained noise. It is an instinct descended to such men from the harassed pioneers of the Pacific Slope.

He frowned to himself as they rode forward, although he said nothing to the lads of what was passing in his mind. But to himself he muttered seriously enough:

"That warn't no rabbit, nor it warn't no deer. Critters don't bust branches; they're too wise.

CHAPTER II.
COLONEL MORELLO CHARTERS A SCHOONER.

Cal Gifford had been correct in his guess. The watcher of the trail was a man, and probably the last man in the world the boys would have wished to have in their vicinity just then. For it was Ed. Dayton who had stepped upon the branch, much to his chagrin, for the accident came just at the very moment that he was pretty sure of overhearing something interesting, provided he remained silent.

Dayton had been rabbit hunting along the trail when his quick ear had caught the sound of the approaching party. With an instinct entirely natural to a man of his character he had hastened to conceal himself immediately. This was partly, as has been said, by instinct, and partly from a reasonable sense of prudence; for Ed. Dayton knew as well as any one else that a reward had been offered for the capture of any of the leaders of Morello's gang, and he was naturally wary of encountering strangers of any kind.

He had never dreamed that the boys were in that part of the country, and his astonishment at recognizing their voices first, and then their faces as he peered through the bushes, was colossal. The former chauffeur was as quick of wit as he was lacking in principle, and it had not needed more than Ding-dong's stuttered hint about the "treasure ship" to apprise him that he had by, for him, a lucky accident stumbled once more across the trail of the sapphires.

When the branch had cracked, Dayton, knowing that a search might ensue, had thrown himself flat on his stomach and wiggled off across the ground at a surprising rate. By the time the boys had remounted and continued their journey he had been some distance off, and far on his way to his destination. This was a camp well concealed in a brush-grown cañon up the mountainside above Santa Inez.

On his return he found Colonel Morello himself gloomily seated in front of his tent, gazing seaward, for a good view could be obtained of the ocean from the mountain cañon without danger of the observers being themselves observed. Near the leader of the gang which Nat and his chums had broken up, sat a man in a greasy, well-worn buckskin suit. His lank, black hair dribbled over the collar of his upper garment and his mahogany-tinted face was shaded by a big cone-shaped sombrero. This man was Manuello, whom our old readers will recall as one of Colonel Morello's aides in the mountain fortress from which the boys' efforts had evicted the lawless crew. Half a dozen other men lounged about, smoking and talking. But an air of dejection hung about the camp. It was perceptible in the men's attitudes no less than in the tones in which they talked.

In fact, Colonel Morello's position was a precarious one. It is true that he was well enough concealed in the cañon above Santa Inez, but it is equally true that unless he remained there indefinitely he ran grave risk of being captured by the indignant authorities. But Colonel Morello was not a man who did things without due thought and preparation. He was in the vicinity of Santa Inez for what were, to him, good and sufficient reasons. What these were we shall presently see. He raised his head from his reverie as Dayton's step sounded, and looked quickly up.

"Well, here you are back again," he said. "Have you any news to give us?"

The others gathered about eagerly.

"Yes; is there any vessel in the harbor we can charter?" asked one eagerly.

"I'm sick of sneaking and hiding about here," put in another. "You promised us, Morello, when you brought us here that you would charter a vessel of some sort on which we could all go to that island you know of, and keep quiet till things blew over."

"Yes," put in another, a tall, strapping fellow, in a red shirt, well-worn mackinack trousers, and much-battered sombrero, "that was the excuse you gave for retaining possession of the money we managed to obtain from the fortress before the pursuit began. If you don't mean to do something pretty quick, you had better divide it up and let us separate and each take our chances alone."

A chorus of assent greeted this proposal.

"That's the talk, Swensen," put in one of the group, Al. Jeffries, the man who had impersonated a traveler at the Lariat Hotel. "We want action, Colonel. Your plan to get a vessel at this quiet, out-of-the-way place was a good one. What we want is to have it put into practice."

"That schooner lying in the bay is the first vessel to put in here in a week, isn't she?" growled Colonel Morello, although he was too wise to adopt anything but a mildly argumentative tone with his followers.

"That's right, but why can't we charter her?" came from Swensen.

"Yes, or that small, white craft that came round the point a short while ago and anchored not far from the schooner?" demanded Al. Jeffries.

"We have not had time to find out about the schooner yet," reasoned Colonel Morello, "and we don't want to spoil things by rushing them. A little too much haste now might ruin all our plans. As for the small white craft——"

"I can tell you all about her," put in Dayton, who had stood silently by while this colloquy was going forward.

The others turned on him in some astonishment.

"You mean that she can be hired for our purpose?" he began. But Dayton interrupted him with a quick wave of the hand.

"I mean," he said, "that she can be no such thing. That craft is owned by those pesky young cubs, the Motor Rangers——"

He was going on, but a perfect uproar of exclamations of astonishment interrupted him. Colonel Morello finally succeeded in quelling the disturbance and Dayton went on to relate all that he had overheard while he lay concealed by the side of the trail.

Looks of cupidity passed among the men as he reached the part of his narrative concerning the sapphires. Morello's eyes glistened greedily as he heard.

"Then they have not altogether eluded us," he said, as if he was busy with some private thoughts. "If only we could—however, that is neither here nor there. What concerns us most now is that the Motor Rangers are at Santa Inez and that we are within reaching distance of the lads we have to blame for all our troubles."

"I'd give a whole lot to get even on them," growled Swensen savagely.

But Morello checked him.

"That can all be discussed later," he said. "The thing to be done now is to ascertain if that schooner can be chartered. If she can, we have the money to pay for her, and if she can't——"

He did not finish, but paused significantly. His eyes wandered out over the mountainside and rested on the "Nomad" as she lay at anchor on the sun-lit bay. A small boat could be seen putting out from her side and the two men in it were giving way with a will for the shore.

"I suppose that those are the men who brought her here from wherever she came from," mused Morello. "If only we had a craft like that now."

"Well, we haven't," cut in Ed. Dayton, "so the thing to do now is to see if we can't get the hire of that schooner. We could easy sail her. Swensen here is an old navigator, and the one or two of the others have been sailors. I know something about ships myself."

"What do you propose, then?" asked Col. Morello.

"That you and I set out for Santa Inez at once and find out the lay of the land. If we can charter the schooner, well and good. If not—why then we'll have to find some other way of getting out of this hole."

It was some hours later that Captain Nelsen of the smart coasting schooner, "Nettie Nelsen," perceived, being pulled toward him from the shore, a small row boat. He recognized it as one of those that were for hire and wondered whom the two passengers in the stern might be. He could not imagine who could be coming off to his vessel while the smart motor boat, which he had noticed come in that morning, had dropped anchor some distance off, and not in the direction in which the shore boat was being pulled.

Captain Nelsen was in a mood in which he would have welcomed any interruption to his own thoughts. Trade was bad for coasting schooners. Steam craft had taken most of it from the wind-propelled vessels, and it was only at small, unfrequented ports like Santa Inez that he could hope to pick up a cargo. But there was no redwood, no hides, and no produce of any kind awaiting transportation at the old mission town when the "Nettie Nelsen" dropped anchor there that morning. And this had proved the last straw which broke the back of Captain Nelsen's fortunes. His crew, which had only remained with him in the hopes of obtaining a cargo and thus getting the means of liquidating their overdue wages, had deserted in a body when they discovered that there was no prospect of the "Nettie Nelsen's" holds being filled at Santa Inez.

The desertion had not been mutinous. The men admired Captain Nelsen and were sorry for him. They had simply informed him that they could work the ship no longer without pay, and had gone ashore in a body, to seek their fortunes elsewhere. Thus Captain Nelsen was left alone on his schooner, with his thoughts for company—and very poor company he found them, too.

Naturally, the desertion of the schooner had become the cause of considerable talk on shore, and when Colonel Morello and Dayton, after a careful reconnaisance, had arrived at the wharf and hired a boat for transport to the schooner, one of the first things they heard from their garrulous boatman was of the strange state of things on board the deserted craft. They had exchanged delighted glances as they heard. Surely fortune was favoring them with her smiles once more after having frowned on them so long.

And so it proved. Captain Nelsen was in no mood to haggle over the matter of chartering his schooner. Colonel Morello secured it for the sum of five hundred dollars. There was one serious drawback, however, according to his way of thinking, about the arrangements. Captain Nelsen insisted on being allowed to navigate his own vessel. He had owned and sailed her for thirty years, he said, and keen as were his necessities he would rather let her rot than place her in the hands of strangers.

And so Colonel Morello had to make the best of matters, and agree to carry Captain Nelsen as his skipper. As for the simple-minded captain, he watched the shore boat departing, when negotiations were completed, with a keen access of joy such as he had not known for some weeks.

"Five hundred dollars," he thought to himself. "Why, it will make Nettie and the children hold up their heads again. Oh, I'm in luck! It isn't every day that a down-and-out skipper has a chance of chartering his ship to a party of scientists on a research expedition to the Marquesas."

By which it will be seen that Colonel Morello had not exactly represented his party in their true light to the guileless seaman, who was as unsuspecting as most sailors are. Indeed, after he and Dayton had left the boat at the wharf they began to chuckle over the skipper's simplicity. It was almost dark, so that they did not use so much care to escape observation as they had on their way to the beach.

"Only one thing sticks in my craw," growled Dayton, "and that is that you gave that old barnacle five hundred dollars."

"I had to," protested the colonel. "I don't think he'd have struck a bargain otherwise. Said his wife and children needed the money badly and that he would have to buy extra fittings for the schooner for such a long voyage as we contemplate."

"It's a long voyage, all right," agreed Dayton. "But if things go through all right, we'll have taken a wise course. Your plan is to work our way through the islands to Australia and then sell the schooner?"

"That's my present idea," rejoined the colonel. "How do you like it?"

"It seems to me to be a good plan," said Dayton. "Couldn't be improved on. But what will the captain say to our trying to sell his boat?"

Morello gave his companion a swift side glance as they trudged along through the dark streets.

"Perhaps he won't be there to object," he said significantly.

Dayton shrugged his shoulders.

"Colonel, you are a wonderful man," he said. "By the way, what is the name of this friend of yours in the Marquesas? Owns a plantation there, I think you said."

"That's right," said the colonel; "he's got a big island and grows cocoanuts. Haven't seen him for some years, but I guess he'll be glad to see me again."

"American?" asked Dayton carelessly.

"Yes. I met him in that revolutionary business in Lower California."

"What's his name?"

"Gooddale—Elias Gooddale," was the reply.

CHAPTER III.
LIKE THIEVES IN THE NIGHT.

In the meantime, the Motor Rangers and their western chum had jogged into the little town, creating some excitement among the inhabitants thereof. Santa Inez was one of those sleepy, little places not uncommon along the coast of northern California, connected with the outer world only by a semi-weekly stage and by an occasional steamer. Shut in by the Coast Range to the east, and the broad Pacific to the west, its inhabitants lived an almost patriarchal existence.

Small and primitive as it was, however, the place boasted a hotel. The hostelry was not large, but still not bad of its kind, and having inquired the direction the boys made the best of their time toward it.

"I expect Captain Akers will be there already," remarked Nat, as they rode through the dusty street, shaded by feathery pepper trees with pungent-smelling foliage.

"You told him to meet us there, then?" asked Joe.

"I did—yes. It was in the expectation that he would arrive there first. But in any event, it is no doubt the first place he will make for, expecting to hear news of us."

The party had no difficulty in engaging rooms; indeed the landlord—one Calvo Pinto—appeared as if he could not do enough for them. It was not often that the Gran Hotel De Santa Inez, as it was grandiloquently called, boasted such a numerous party of guests. As Nat told Pinto that their party might be recruited by two more, the fellow was naturally obsequious enough. In fact, he was servility itself, and bowed and cringed in most abject fashion.

All this super-civility filled Nat with a feeling of distrust. However, as they had nothing to be apprehensive over, he soon dismissed the idea from his mind.

The landlord insisted on helping them stable their mounts. They would much have preferred to perform this duty themselves, but Pinto seemed to think it a part of his work to aid them, and they could not peremptorily order him to leave. Thus it came about, that when the pack of the burro was removed, the keen eyes of the landlord fell on the rather unusual-looking brass bound box in which the precious sapphires were carried till they could be given over to the authorities.

He asked many questions concerning the receptacle, none of which, naturally enough, were answered other than vaguely. This served to increase the landlord's curiosity, but he cunningly refrained from betraying his inquisitiveness. His speculations concerning the strange box were not allayed when, on his laying hold of it, ostensibly to help the boys into the hotel, Cal Gifford told him, rather roughly, to let go.

Pinto shrugged his shoulders, but said nothing but that he was "the servant of the señors, and their wishes should be respected."

After some consultation held in undertones, it was decided to place the box in the room occupied by Nat and Joe. This was at one end of the hotel and boasted a stout lock on the door. Beneath the window was the flat roof of a porch.

"Handy in case of fire," remarked Nat, looking out.

"That's right," agreed Joe, "but has it occurred to you that it would be equally handy for any intruders who might wish to examine the box?"

"You mean the landlord?"

"Well, I didn't exactly like the way he looked at it."

"Pshaw," scoffed Nat, "what could a puny rat like that do against four able-bodied persons—not to mention Captain Akers and the man we noticed helping him on the 'Nomad.' However, we will keep watch to-night if you like. Hullo"—he broke off suddenly as voices were heard on the porch below—"there's Captain Akers now. He must have just come ashore. Let's shove the box in under the bed and go down and meet him. I'm dying to hear how the 'Nomad' behaved on her trip up the coast."

Locking the door behind them, the two lads descended. On the landing they met Cal Gifford and Ding-dong Bell who shared the next room to themselves. Both had had a good wash-up, as had Nat and Joe, and the party looked considerably spruced up from the travel-stained individuals who had entered the hotel a short time before.

Captain Akers, a bluff, blond-bearded seaman, greeted them effusively. He knew all of them except Cal. The mountaineer and the sailor shook hands with a feeling of mutual respect as they surveyed each other. Both were men of action and decision and recognized those qualities in the other.

The captain's assistant on board the "Nomad" turned out to be a slender yet muscular youth, introduced by the mariner as Sam Hinckley. He was a capable young chap, said the captain, and had been of the greatest assistance to him when the "Nomad's" engine became cantankerous in a blow she had encountered on her way up the coast. It was this that had caused the delay. But Hinckley, who possessed a wonderful knowledge of marine gasolene engines, had managed to adjust the difficulty more speedily than the captain would have thought possible.

Presently, after an enthusiastic discussion of the boat and her good points, Captain Akers drew Nat aside.

"I regard this young chap Hinckley as quite a find," he said. "He presented himself at the boat yard some time ago and said he was looking for work. Although I didn't much need a hand, I tried him out and he proved himself so capable that he was hired regularly. He has rather a remarkable history. It seems that he hails from the South Seas—somewhere in the Marquesas Group, I believe. He left there on account of some trouble he had with a relative. He did not confide to me what it was and since he did not seem anxious to let me know, I have never pressed him on this part of his history. It was sufficient for me to know that I had a good, capable workman who, so far as I have been able to observe, is as honest as the day is long, and a thorough seaman."

"He looks all of that," agreed Nat, with a glance at Hinckley's broad shoulders and upright bearing. The young sailor stood chatting with the others at some little distance down the hotel porch.

"And now what do you say if we go out and inspect the 'Nomad'?" asked Captain Akers.

This was a proposal which naturally met with no negative votes. But right here a problem presented itself. Who was to stay to guard the sapphires; for, of course, such a thing as leaving them unwatched was not to be thought of. The question was settled by Cal Gifford, who insisted on remaining behind. Maybe the mountaineer was anxious to postpone his introduction to Old Ocean. At any rate, he seemed anxious to remain, so the boys, who were dancing about with impatience to inspect the "Nomad," did not press him very hard to change his resolution, as that would have meant that one of their number must remain on shore.

The "Nomad" proved all that Captain Akers had claimed for her. Her main cabin was roomy and provided with a stateroom for "the owner," and several berths of the type used on sleeping cars which folded up during the day or when they were not in use. Aft of the main cabin came a tiny galley, fitted with bright, new utensils, and opposite was a washroom.

A short flight of steps led to the cockpit, forward of which the engines were located, being reached by a door from the cabin. The cockpit was of the shallow, self-baling type. From it a short flight of steps led to a miniature "bridge" placed athwartship on top of the cabin. This was surmounted by a "military-mast," with cross-trees and halliards for hoisting signals.

There were other features about the "Nomad" which will be mentioned as occasion arises. The boys enthusiastically voted her a perfect little ship.

"She's capable of taking a cruise almost anywhere!" declared Nat.

Captain Akers nodded.

"Yes, she has large auxiliary tanks for carrying an extra supply of gasolene. Her engines are so constructed, moreover, that they will consume kerosene just as well as gasolene, so that if you ever get in a part of the world where gasolene is unobtainable you can burn the other fuel, which can be found almost anywhere on the globe."

"What if the engines break down?" asked Joe Hartley, with the air of one who has propounded a poser.

"In that case all we have to do," responded Captain Akers, "is to take to sail. The 'Nomad' has an extra deep keel, fitted for just that purpose."

"But the masts?" demanded Joe.

Captain Akers raised the hinged lid of one of the lockers that ran the length of the cockpit. Inside were several lengths of rounded, varnished timber, fitted with brass sockets. They may be compared to the dissembled sections of a fishing rod.

"There are our masts," he said. "Sockets have been provided, fore and aft, for the reception of their 'heels.' Everything is ready to attach their stays and rigging to. The sails are in that other locker. The 'Nomad' can be equipped for sail in less than half an hour."

The boys exchanged radiant glances. Truly there seemed nothing wanting to make the "Nomad" as complete a little vessel as could be desired. The inspection completed, they rowed shoreward once more. They found Cal on the watch, but nothing had occurred to require his attention. The remainder of the afternoon was spent in strolling about the little town and buying a few necessities for the voyage down the coast, for it had been determined that the start would be made in the morning, there being nothing to delay our adventurers at Santa Inez.

"How I wish we were going to cruise to the South Seas," sighed Nat.

"Never mind, maybe we will some day," put in Joe. "The Motor Rangers seem to be always running into adventures of all kinds."

That his prophecy was to be verified, and that in no very short time, never occurred to Joe, and as for the others, they concluded that, having reached Santa Inez in safety, they were through with the most risky part of their expedition. Little did they imagine that their adventures had not yet begun.

All hands turned in early that night, for a quick start was to be made on the morrow. Sam Hinckley rowed off to the "Nomad" after supper to keep watch and ward over her for the night, while the rest sought their previously assigned sleeping quarters in the hotel.

Folks retired early to bed in Santa Inez and by ten o'clock most of the lights in the place were out. It was about this time that two figures appeared in front of the hotel, taking care, however, to keep in the dark shade of the pepper trees lining the opposite sidewalk.

The two men watched the hotel for some time in silence, listening while the landlord went his nightly rounds, testing locks and fastening the lower windows. By and by he, too, vanished, and before long his light, which had appeared at an upper window, was extinguished.

"Shall we try for it now?" asked one of the men, slouching in the obscurity of the tree shadows.

"Not yet, Dayton. Give them time to get settled down to sleep. Is everything in readiness?"

"Yes, colonel. While you went to the camp to tell the men to be ready to embark to-night, I arranged for a boat. She is at the wharf now. All we have to do is to secure that chest, join the rest of the boys, get on board the schooner and then, 'Ho for the Marquesas!'"

"You talk as if it were all accomplished."

"And so it is, to all intents and purposes. We know the room where the boys are sleeping. That garrulous old fool of a landlord told us, when we dropped into his drinking bar, that the chest was in Nat Trevor's room. All we have to do, then, is to climb that trellis work leading up to the porch roof, walk in through the open window, and make good our escape."

"What if they make any resistance?"

"I don't think they will," said Dayton, grimly fingering his revolver as he spoke; "but if they do, we can easily subdue them."

"But they may raise the whole town about our ears," objected Colonel Morello, who seemed to be weakening now that the actual moment for carrying out their rascally plan had arrived. Dayton, on the contrary, was confident as if they already had the sapphires on board the "Nettie Nelsen."

"Let them raise the town if they want to," scoffed Morello's lieutenant. "The boys are waiting at the landing, and at the first sign of trouble they'll start a fusillade that will scare the life out of any one who tries to interfere. Now, then, you remain on watch here. I'm going to see how the coast lies."

Morello nodded. The next moment he was alone, while Dayton, swiftly but silently, glided across the dark street. He gained the foot of the trellis work, glanced upward for a minute, and then setting his foot in the criss-cross work began to climb. He made no more noise than a marauding cat.

His companion, watching nervously from the dark shadows, saw Dayton's form gain the porch roof, slip noiselessly across it to the boys' window, and cautiously push aside the shade.

The next instant he stepped through the casement and disappeared from Morello's view.

CHAPTER IV.
RUN DOWN

Some half hour later Dayton and Morello, carrying the heavy box between them, reached the wharf where the boat they had already mentioned was in waiting. The rest of their rascally companions were there already, impatiently awaiting the word to "shove off." The boat was one of the schooner's own and in the stern sheets sat Captain Nelsen himself.

"So the boy never wakened," Colonel Morello said, with a low chuckle, as they neared the wharf.

"No," rejoined Dayton, in a sinister tone, "and if he had, it would have been mighty unhealthy for him. Luckily, though, he had evidently fallen asleep while he was sitting up in a chair guarding the stuff. It was no trick at all to get it out from under the bed, where they had it stowed, and lower it to you by that rope fire escape."

"Well, all is well that ends well," said Morello, as they stepped down on the landing place. "But I confess that I was nervous while you were in that room. Now, captain, if you are ready, we will embark without further delay."

"Budt I am nodt retty, by der greadt Horn Schpoon," sputtered Captain Nelsen, in whose stolid mind suspicion had for some time been waxing strong. "It looks to me, by Dunder, dot der vos some dings crooked here, alreatty yedt. Vot for you vant to gedt off by der schooner adt midnighdt? Vot you godt in dot box?"

Without waiting for an answer to his questions, he thrust his hand into his breast pocket and fished out a battered wallet.

"Here," he said, "I gif you back your moneys. I dond't vant to be mixed up in noddings dot looks so suspicibrious as dis sort of vork. You can' haf no monkey business by my schooner. I——"

Before the honest captain could say another word a coat was thrown over his head by one of the men in the boat and he was violently thrown down on the thwarts. But if they thought they were going to subdue Captain Nelsen without a struggle, Morello's rascals were mistaken. The mariner, with muscles hardened in many a blow and time of stress at sea, battled like a wild cat. But, at last, sheer force of numbers outgeneraled him, and he was compelled to lie quiet at the bottom of his own boat.

"I'd have silenced him with an oar if that had kept up any longer," commented Dayton grimly. "We've lost a lot of valuable time already. Come, boys, tie that fellow up, and then give way for the schooner, lively. We'll—— What's that?"

As he uttered the abrupt exclamation, from the direction of the town there came a sound of shouting and uproar.

"They've discovered the theft!" gasped Morello scrambling into the boat after Dayton. "Pull for your lives, boys. It's prison if they catch us."

The men did not need this warning to make them give way with a will. The boat, bearing in it the unconscious captain, fairly flew over the water toward the dark outline of the schooner. In the meantime, the hubbub ashore increased. Lights could be seen flashing in every direction. Shouts and cries were borne clearly over the water.

"We can laugh at all that once we are on board and the anchors weighed," muttered Dayton. "There's a good breeze springing up, and by dawn we ought to be twenty miles out at sea."

But Colonel Morello suddenly recollected something that dashed their enthusiasm.

"Those boys have a motor boat!" he exclaimed.

"Concern it all, that's so," snarled Dayton. "Let's see, we've got to do some quick thinking. Is the tide setting in or out?"

"It's going out," said one of the oarsmen.

"Whatever has that to do with the matter?" snapped Colonel Morello impatiently.

"Everything," was Dayton's reply. "Boys, pull us over toward that motor boat. There—off in that direction—you can just see her white outline."

"What do you mean to do?" asked Morello nervously. "We've no time to waste on foolish notions."

"This isn't a foolish notion, as you'll see," replied the other.

A few minutes more rowing brought them to the side of the motor boat. All was silent on board, Hinckley being asleep in the cabin. Captain Akers had told him that it would not be necessary to keep a strict watch, and he was making up for lost sleep on the rough voyage up by a sound slumber.

As they drew longside the "Nomad," it was seen that her stern was swung seaward, showing that the strong tide which set out of the bay was dragging her Pacificward. The anchor cable was drawn taut as a fiddle string under the strain.

Dayton stood up in the boat, and with one slash of his heavy knife he severed the stout rope, the few strands which he had not cut through parting under the strain of the tide-swung craft.

He gave a low chuckle as the "Nomad," anchorless and adrift, began to glide out to sea at quite a swift pace.

"Now, then," he laughed, "I guess we are ready for the schooner. From her decks we could stand off an army in rowboats, and that is the only kind of craft they can obtain now."

By the time they reached the schooner's side, so rapidly had the tide done its work, that the "Nomad" had completely vanished in the darkness, not even a dim white blur of her form showing up.

"I guess this is the time that we have the Motor Rangers checkmated to a standstill," muttered Dayton to himself, as he climbed up the side of the "Nettie Nelsen." "By the time they recover their boat we shall be miles at sea and beyond danger of pursuit."

Presently they had all gained the decks of the vessel, the chest and the unconscious form of poor Captain Nelsen being handed up, after the boat had been hauled up on the stern davits. This done, the men, under the directions of the gigantic Swensen, the former sailor, set about heaving the anchor and ungasketing the sails preparatory to leaving the bay with all the speed they could command.

In the meantime, let us go back and see what had been occurring ashore. As the astute Dayton had surmised, Nat, who was on watch, but had been overcome by weariness, had awakened with a start a few minutes after the two rascals had set out for the wharf with the chest.

Directly he opened his eyes, one of those strange intuitions that come to us all at times apprised him that all was not well. Gazing about him, the first thing the lad noticed was that the window blind was shoved aside. It had been left that way by Dayton in the invader's hasty exit. With a queer sensation of dread, Nat, broad awake now, sprang from the chair in which he had dozed off, and made for the bed under which the chest had been hidden.

There was nothing there.

With a shout of consternation, the boy staggered back, fairly dazed by the disaster. But Nat was not a boy to remain uselessly thunderstruck for more than a few seconds. Recovering his wits, he instantly realized what must have occurred. Somebody had entered the room by means of the porch roof and stolen the chest.

But who?

As we know, none of the boys had any idea of the close vicinity of Colonel Morello's band. They deemed them, in fact, far from there, in the fastnesses of the Sierras. Nat's first suspicious thought then flashed on the landlord. The man's interest in the chest, his furtive eye and servile manner, all rushed back into the lad's recollection.

He hastily aroused Joe and apprised him of the startling thing that had occurred. Joe, scarcely less taken aback than Nat, was out of bed in an instant. Together the two boys made all speed to the room occupied by Cal and Ding-dong Bell. The mountaineer sprang to his feet with a roar of rage as Nat communicated his dire tidings. He hastily threw on his clothes, and while the rest did the same examined his revolver.

"I've a notion I may have ter use you afore the night is over," he said, addressing the well-worn weapon as if it had been a sentient being.

As soon as they assembled once more—which was within a few minutes—Cal burst out with:

"I'll bet the hole in a doughnut that this here robbery has something to do with that crackling we heard in the chaparral this afternoon. I was pretty sure then that the noise was made by some coyote a-listenin' to our talk. I'm sure of it now. Whoever it was—and I suspect it was one of that Morello crowd—they heard enough to put them wise to the fact that we had the sapphires and meant to stop in Santa Inez ter-night. Ther rest was easy for them."

"But it would not have been had it not been for my neglect of my duty in going to sleep," said Nat bitterly. "It's all my fault. I ought to be——"

"There, lad, no use in crying over spilt milk," comforted Cal. "The thing ter do now is to find the robbers. They kain't hev got very far. And when we do find them thar'll be some fireworks."

Nat hastily communicated his suspicion about the landlord. Cal shook his head.

"I'll bet he's in bed and asleep," he said. And so, on investigation, it proved. The man, however, was honest enough to relate in full to the boys the conversation he had had in his drinking bar with the two strangers. From his description they at once recognized that Cal had been right and that in all probability the marauders were Morello and Dayton.

The landlord volunteered to rout out his friends and form a strong posse, and this was the cause of the shouts and cries that the rascals who had stolen the sapphires and set the "Nomad" adrift had heard. But having no idea in which direction the men could have gone, it was some time before Nat suggested searching the water-front. All that time had been lost in aimless hunting about under the direction of the chief of police of Santa Inez, who was also the main part of its police force.

However, the landlord had succeeded in rousing twenty or thirty citizens, all of whom were armed, so that the posse was quite a formidable one. As they reached the water-front, Cal enjoined silence.

"If so be as they've took ter a boat," he said, "by listening quietly we kin hear ther oars."

But they listened for some minutes without hearing a sound. Suddenly Nat's sharp ears caught an odd noise. The lad, born and brought up by the sea, instantly recognized it. It was the "cheep-cheep" of blocks.

"It's that schooner," he cried, pointing to the dark blot the vessel made against the night. "They're getting up sail."

"Impossible that any one on board her could have anything to do with the robbery," decided the chief of police sagely. "I've known Captain Nelsen for many years," he went on, "and he is as honest as daylight."

"Just the same, there is something mighty queer about a schooner getting up sail at midnight," observed Nat. "If we can get a boat, I'm going to look into the matter."

Although the chief looked dubious, and many of the others in the posse opined that they were wasting time, Nat finally gained his point. Three dories were found and commandeered and the little flotilla set off through the darkness toward the schooner. As they neared her the rattle of anchor chain as it was reeled home was distinctly heard. Also they could catch the sound of commands being given in low voices.

"By Hookey, they are getting her ready for sea," muttered the chief, in a surprised tone. "I guess you were right, boy. This looks very suspicious."

"We'd better give them a hail," suggested Nat.

The chief stood up in the boat, in which, beside Nat and himself, were Joe, Cal, and Ding-dong Bell.

"Schooner ahoy!" he hailed. "We want to board you!"

The reply was prompt and removed all doubts as to the character of those on board the craft.

A flash of light split the night, followed by a sharp report. Nat, who was standing upright by the chief, felt the bullet fan his ear.

"That's for a warning," came a harsh voice. "Stand clear of this schooner, or you'll get more."

But the chief of police was by no means a coward, and this answer, instead of intimidating him, aroused him to fury.

"I am chief of police of this town," he cried. "In the name of the law, I command you to lay to."

A sneering laugh was the only rejoinder. It was followed, however, by a scattering fire.

This was the last straw with the chief.

"Let 'em have it, boys!" he shouted.

In obedience to his command the posse opened fire on the dark form of the schooner. It is doubtful, however, if they did much damage, as the night was too black to make out more than her outline.

But the men on board now had the sails up. The pyramids of canvas loomed up like spires against the dark background of the night. The rushing of water under her forefoot as she began to move could be distinctly heard.

"By Thunder, we'll stop that craft, or know the reason why," roared the chief.

At that same instant there came a shout from the schooner's bow.

"Out of the road, or we'll run you down, you swabs!"

"Great Heavens!" cried Nat. "They've changed their course. Out of the way, quick, or they'll sink us!"

But before any one in the boat had recovered his wits at this sudden and dangerous turn of events, the great form of the schooner loomed above them like some menacing tower.

"Back water! Back water!" screamed Nat.

But before he could utter another word, there was a terrific shock. The schooner's sharp bow had crashed clean into the boat. The air was filled with shouts and cries.

Nat felt the boat sinking under him, and, mustering all his strength, he sprang upward aiming for the "dolphin striker," which loomed right above him.

But even as he sprang he felt a sudden sharp pain pass through him. A million constellations swam sparklingly before his eyes and then his senses went out amid the turmoil about him.

CHAPTER V.
NAT IN DIRE STRAITS.

Nat's returning senses did not come to him till some time later. When they did they revealed his situation as one of the strangest, surely, in which any lad was ever placed.

"Good gracious!" thought Nat, as his eyes opened. "What can have——"

Swash!

A mass of green water swept over him, choking the words back down his throat and half drowning him. But the immersion in the not-over chilly water revived him fully and a few seconds sufficed to show him that he was lying half across the bobstay of the schooner's bowsprit, just aft of the "dolphin striker"—as the sharp spar that sticks out beneath the bowsprit is called.

There was a dull throbbing in Nat's head and he felt numb and stiff. But another roller breaking over him at that instant, as the schooner took a plunge, convinced him that he must muster all his strength to get out of his perilous position or be miserably drowned.

A pallid, gray dawn lay over the waters and Nat, after he had, by a supreme effort, worked his way up the bobstay to a higher position, saw to his dismay that the schooner must be some distance out at sea. She seemed to be rushing through the water at a speed which he estimated at about ten knots an hour. Allowing then that the time was about four-thirty, she must have made some forty miles or more since midnight.

Nat placed his hand to his head, which ached cruelly. He found that it was cut quite badly, but luckily the wound was only a flesh one and his involuntary salt water bath had washed it clean.

"When the schooner struck the boat," he mused. "I remember jumping upward and nothing after that. The dolphin striker must have hit me but it seems I had wits enough left to cling on to the bobstay. A good thing I had, too, or I'd be in Davy Jones' locker by this time. I wonder what became of the rest of them. Thank goodness, Joe, Ding-dong, and Cal can all swim, and if they were not knocked insensible they are all right."

Nat looked about him once more. Above him the jibs of the schooner were bellying whitely out under the fresh breeze. Beneath him the water boiled under the smart craft's sharp prow. All about—the rising sun gilding it—was the heaving waste of the broad Pacific.

Truly Nat was in a quandary. Remain where he was he could not. Even had it not been for the impossibility of doing without food or water he could momentarily feel himself growing weaker. Before the cut in his head had stopped bleeding, he reasoned that he must have lost considerable vital fluid.

"What am I to do?" thought Nat to himself. "I recognized Morello's voice when he shouted that warning just before the boat was struck. My life aboard this schooner will be worth just about what it would be in a den of savage tigers. Even if it were not for the grudge Morello owes me for betraying his fortress in the Sierras, he has sufficient reason to wish me out of the way. What am I to do?" he concluded, with the same question with which he had begun his gloomy ruminations.

The question was unexpectedly answered for him. Swensen, in his capacity as sailing master of the schooner, came forward at that moment to look at the headsails. After peering aloft in sailor fashion he squinted over the bow to see how the "Nettie Nelsen" was cleaving the waters. Hardly had he poked his blond head over the bow before he became aware of Nat clinging to his precarious perch, and busy with his gloomy thoughts.

"Hul-lo!" he roared. "Dere bane boy on der bobstay, by Yiminy!"

His shout brought Morello and Dayton and half a dozen others—among them the ill-favored Manuello—to the bow. They echoed the Swede's shout, as in the wet-through, miserable figure clinging to the bobstay and looking up at them they recognized the boy who had done more than any one else to bring their rascally careers to a termination.

For a breath absolute silence reigned. Nat, who had looked up at the sudden shout of the Swede and seen the latter's shock head peering down at him, kept still because he felt that it was useless to do anything else. Morello and the others were tongue-tied temporarily from sheer, crass, amazement.

They had confidently believed that when they sunk the boat they had likewise sunk all on board her, or, failing that, had at least shaken off all pursuit. But here, confronting them like a ghost, was the form of the boy they most hated and detested. Morello's eyes fairly snapped delight as he beheld Nat thus thrust into his power. The evil glint of his black orbs found an answering expression of joy in Dayton's. The rascals could hardly believe their luck. Morello was the first to gain his voice.

"So," he snarled, with his sinister sneer more marked than ever, "we meet again, Señor Motor Ranger. But the circumstances are rather different to what they were in the cañon."

"Yes," rejoined Nat calmly, "there, if I recollect rightly, you all were running for your lives."

"You forget the old proverb, Señor Trevor: 'He who fights and runs away will live to fight some other day.' However, you see now that it is verified. Here are we with a fine schooner under our feet, your sapphires in our possession, and the world before us. While you—— Well, I would not be in your shoes for a good deal."

He chuckled in an ominous manner as he spoke. Nat said nothing. He felt it would be utterly useless to reply to the man. Wholly in the power of the merciless ruffians, as he knew himself to be, he felt that his best policy lay in not irritating them any further than possible.

"Are you coming on deck, or would you prefer to be thrown into the sea?" sneered Ed. Dayton savagely, casting a look of hatred on Nat.

"I'd prefer to come on deck," responded Nat, determined not to show a trace of the real fear that he felt. "If you'll throw me a rope, I can scramble up."

"Oh, we'll throw you a rope fast enough," grinned Morello maliciously. "Maybe it will be a rope to hang yourself with."

Nevertheless, in a few seconds a rope with a noose in the end of it came snaking down, and Nat, fastening the noose under his armpits, was drawn up over the bow and an instant later he stood on the swaying foredeck of the "Nettie Nelsen" in the midst of his enemies.

The group gathered there scowled at the lad with malevolent expressions, but none of them made a move to touch him. Perhaps they felt that he was so completely in their power now that it was no use hastening their revenge. Morello fairly gloated as he regarded the boy.

"Oh, this is luck," he exclaimed; "a bit of unheard-of good fortune. Here we are fleeing from the place from which you and your brats of companions drove us, and we actually pick you up off our bowsprit forty miles out at sea."

"The question is what are you going to do with me?" spoke up Nat boldly enough, though his heart sank direfully.

"Ah, that we have not yet decided," chuckled Morello, rubbing his hands; "but you must know that I am notable for avenging myself on those who have wronged me."

"Wronged you," burst out Nat. "I should think that having been driven from the Sierras, and your lawless ways terminated, that you would have decided that an honest life would be best, and——"

He stopped short as Ed. Dayton, unable to control himself any longer, made two swift steps toward the boy he hated, and, raising his hand, struck Nat a blow across the face before the lad had time to defend himself. But while the malicious grin still hovered on Dayton's face and he was still exclaiming:

"That's for the blow you gave me at Santa Barbara," Nat was upon him.

The cowardly bully was no match for the wiry, muscular lad, weakened by exposure and his wound, though the latter might be. Dayton came crashing down to the deck with Nat on the top of him before any of the others, who had been completely taken by surprise, could interfere.

The instant they recovered their senses the rascally crew hurled themselves upon Nat, beating and cuffing him. Kicks were not spared, either. It would have gone hard with the lad if Colonel Morello's voice had not suddenly struck in.

"Stop! Stop that instantly! Manuello! You, Larson; you, Britt and Hicks! Let that boy up!"

Grumblingly they arose, leaving Nat lying half unconscious on the deck. Casting the lad's limp form to one side, Dayton, too, got on his feet, pouring forth a torrent of foul language.

"It served you right, Dayton," was all the comfort he obtained from Colonel Morello. "The boy is absolutely in our power. There is no need for haste in taking our revenge."

"I'd like to make the cub walk the plank," bellowed Dayton, feeling his eye, which was rapidly swelling where Nat's fist had struck it.

"We will think of something better than that—something more original," purred the colonel, in his silkiest tones. "In the meantime, you, Hicks, and you, Britt, take this young whelp down to the forehold. Tie him to a stanchion down there till I get ready to deal with him."

Nat, who had by this time staggered painfully to his feet, could not repress a shudder at the words and at the tone in which they were spoken. To his chagrin, his temporary accession of weakness was swiftly noted by Morello, who grinned delightedly.

"Ah, you may well shudder," he exclaimed. "Bolder people than you have shuddered and turned pale before when they faced Colonel Morello."

Nat did not reply. For one thing he felt weak and dizzy. His head had started bleeding again, following his struggle with Dayton and his subsequent suppression. Moreover, he was in need of food and water. To his surprise, as he was led away by Britt and Hicks, Colonel Morello gave the men orders to feed the boy as soon as possible.

"We don't want him to die before we are through with him," he explained to Dayton, who was inclined to protest against this seeming humanity.

The young Motor Ranger did not hear this remark. It was as well that he did not. His spirits were quite low enough already.