“Jee whiskers!” gurgled Rattleton. “That means trouble!” “He won’t dare use it!” declared Diamond. The man with the gun leaned over the rail of the schooner. “Now, look here, you fresh young lubbers,” he roared, “if you don’t go round and git, I’ll fill you full of duck-shot, or my name’s not Cyrus Horn!” The way he said it seemed to indicate that he meant business. “Hanged if I don’t think he’ll do it!” grunted Browning. “He is a genuine old pirate, for sure.” “Are you the captain of that schooner?” asked Frank Merriwell. “I be,” was the answer. “Well, what’s the use to be touchy, captain! We’ve got some beer on board, and you must be thirsty. You’ll find us a jolly crowd.” “I don’t drink beer and I don’t want nothing to do with yer. Git!” Capt. Horn leveled his big gun at the pursuing boat. “Don’t be hasty, captain, for----” “Git!” “Listen to reason.” “Git!” The captain of the schooner was not to be beguiled by smooth words. They could see his greenish eyes glaring along the barrel of the gun he held, and he looked like a person who would not hesitate to shoot. “I’ll give ye till I count three to go about,” he roared. “If ye don’t do it, I’ll begin shootin’.” Then he counted: “One!” The boys looked at each other undecidedly. “Two!” “It’s no use,” said Frank, quietly. “If the man is in such a mood, it’s worse than folly to try to board his boat. He could claim that he took us for robbers, and----” “Down with your helm!” cried Rattleton, and the _Jolly Sport_ was put about. None too soon, for the captain of the schooner was seen taking aim with great deliberation. “Now git!” he roared. “If I see anything of yer again, I’ll take a shot at yer jest for the fun of it.” “Well, if that man isn’t a genuine pirate, it’s not his fault,” growled Browning. “It’s certain he was cut out for one.” “He’d cut a throat with pleasure,” nodded Hodge. Merriwell was silent, with his eyes fastened on the receding schooner. There was a troubled expression on his handsome face, and it was plain enough that he regretted their inability to solve the mystery of the girl who had tried to leap overboard. It was not like Frank to give up so easily, but he had realized that it was the height of folly to attempt to board the schooner in the face of the enraged man with the gun. It might be true that the girl was crazy, but Frank could not help feeling that it was not true. Something seemed to whisper that she was a captive in the hands of wretched and unscrupulous men. Such a thought was quite enough to arouse within Frank’s heart a strong desire to rescue her, but it seemed that he was utterly helpless to render her any assistance. Had our hero been sure the girl was a captive, he would have felt like following the _Pirate_ at a distance and making an attempt to have the proper authorities render the girl assistance when Capt. Horn ran into some port.