“I feel it!” he screamed. “He has touched me! I am a dead man! I am doomed!” Then, shrieking with terror, he leaped out of the pit and fled. That was enough to completely unman the others, and they lost no time in taking to their heels also. CHAPTER VII. PURSUIT. Frank had caused all this terror. As old readers know, he was a skillful ventriloquist, and he had seized the opportunity to work upon the superstitious fears of the ignorant sailors. With a skill that was absolutely wonderful he had made the singing seem to come nearer and nearer till it was close at hand, and then he had laughed so the sound appeared to issue from the pit the men had dug. It was sport for Frank, and he hoped to frighten the men away so completely that they would abandon their captive. This, however, they did not do. Capt. Horn kept a clutch upon the captive, whom he dragged along as he hurried after the fleeing men, whom he savagely cursed as poltroons. Capt. Horn did not know whence the ghostly voice had come, but, although he was startled, the sound of that voice had added to his belief that they really were on track of the pirate’s treasure. He had more than half expected something of a weird and ghostly nature would happen, and he had tried to fortify the courage of his companions so they would keep at work for all of anything that might happen. But those sailors, who had promised faithfully not to desert him, were frightened, and they fled as if the very Old Nick was in pursuit. When Frank saw that Capt. Horn was dragging the captive away, he leaped up and ran to help the man; but the dark lantern was dropped, and both captor and captive disappeared in the shadows beneath the trees. Frank ran in the direction he fancied they had taken. First he tripped over a stone and went sprawling upon the ground; but he jumped up instantly and dashed on again. Bump--shash--grunt! Frank was hurled down again, but this time he had struck the trunk of a tree, and he was stunned. It was some moments before he could recover, but still he did not give up the hope of rendering the captive some assistance. When he got upon his feet he realized that the chances of overtaking Horn and his captive in the darkness was slim. “Must do something,” he muttered. “What?” Then he thought of the boat. “Cut ’em off! Perhaps I can do that. I’ll try!” He ran for the pier, hoping to get there ahead of Capt. Horn--hoping Capt. Horn and the captive would be the next to arrive after he reached the spot. Frank’s clothing was heavy with water, and thus he was hampered. He could not see what lay before him, and he took chances of a broken neck. Two or three times he went down, but he came up again like a bounding rubber ball. “This--isn’t--anything--to--bucking--Harvard’s--line--in--football-- game,” he panted.