Peter heard no call; but, in his dream, he slid a few thousand feet from one iceberg to another, and the shock awoke him. Whew! How cold he was! He gave a hopeless, desperate tug at the chrysalis. In vain; sheet, blanket and spread were firmly wound about Jacob's inanimate form. Peter looked drowsily toward the window. "Clear moonlight," he thought; "we shall have pleasant weather to-morrow. Hallo! what's that?" He saw the moving thing, or rather something black crouching upon the floor, for it had halted as Peter stirred. He watched in silence. Soon it moved again, nearer and nearer. It was a man crawling upon hands and feet! The captain's first impulse was to call out; but he took an instant to consider matters. The creeper had a shining knife in one hand. This was ugly; but Peter was naturally self-possessed. When the head turned, Peter's eyes were closed as if in sleep; but at other times nothing could be keener, sharper than the captain's gaze. Closer, closer crept the robber. His back was very near Peter now. The knife was laid softly upon the floor; one careful arm reached forth stealthily to drag the clothes from the chair by the captain's bed--the robbery was commenced. Now was Peter's time! Holding his breath, he sprang up and leaped with all his strength upon the robber's back, stunning the rascal with the force of the blow. To seize the knife was but a second's work. The robber began to struggle, but Peter sat like a giant astride the prostrate form. "If you stir," said the brave boy in as terrible a voice as he could command, "stir but one inch, I will plunge this knife into your neck. Boys! Boys! wake up!" he shouted, still pressing down the black head, and holding the knife at pricking distance, "give us a hand! I've got him! I've got him!" The chrysalis rolled over, but made no other sign. "Up, boys!" cried Peter, never budging. "Ludwig! Lambert! Thunder! Are you all dead?" Dead! not they. Van Mounen and Ben were on their feet in an instant. "Hey? What now?" they shouted. "I've got a robber here," said Peter, coolly. "(Lie still, you scoundrel, or I'll slice your head off!) Now, boys, cut out your bed cord--plenty of time--he's a dead man if he stirs." Peter felt that he weighed a thousand pounds. So he did, with that knife in his hand. The man growled and swore, but dared not move. Ludwig was up, by this time. He had a great jack-knife, the pride of his heart, in his breeches pocket. It could do good service now. They bared the bedstead in a moment. It was laced backward and forward with a rope. "I'll cut it," cried Ludwig, sawing away at the knot; "hold him tight, Pete!" "Never fear!" answered the captain, giving the robber a warning prick. The boys were soon pulling at the rope like good fellows. It was out at last--a long, stout piece. "Now, boys," commanded the captain, "lift up his rascally arms! Cross his hands over his back! That's right--excuse me for being in the way--tie them tight!"