Keeping his feathers well covered, and deepening his voice to the lowest pitch possible, Jack addressed the prisoner, who sat in shivering stillness, his eyes fixed on the vigilant dog. "Now, Bill Gudgeon, you shall choose. Spend the night with the dog, and go before Squire Bastable to-morrow; or use this brush you came to use—on yourself. ’Twould be a pity to waste such excellent tar." "And the feathers be uncommon soft," added Gumley. The victim lifted his eyes for one moment, but said never a word. "Come, come, make up your mind. The dog—or the tar brush." Still the lad hesitated. Fright seemed to have tied his tongue. "Very well, the dog, then. If he goes for you in the night you’d better sing out." "Watch him, Comely!" The dog acknowledged the order with a growl of satisfaction, and Jack and Gumley moved toward the door. "Stop, measter! Stop, Joe Gumley!" cried the unhappy youth, finding his voice at last. "Not the dog! For gracious goodness’ sake, not the dog." "Off with your coat then," said Jack, finding some difficulty in keeping his voice at the proper profundity. "Ay, or your good feyther’ll have the flutters worse’n ever," said Gumley. "Such a good coat, too good to spoil." Bill Gudgeon removed his coat, always eying the dog, which stood watching with intelligent appreciation. Then Gumley handed him the brush. "A little on the nose to begin with," said Jack. Forthwith Bill’s nose was black. "Now the cheeks; no—a little more, if you please—yes, that’s right. Now a dab across the forehead: don’t spare the tar, there’s plenty more in the pail—yes, that’s capital! Now a few feathers, Gumley." The trembling lad stuck the feathers, as they were handed to him, on the glistening tar. He groaned once, but Comely’s echoing growl silenced him and made him hurry. "Now I think he’ll do," said Jack at last. "Beautiful, sir! Whoever seed a better job this side of the line?" "Listen, Bill Gudgeon! You’ll tell your father that if Mr. Gumley is molested again, you and your mates will be hauled up before Squire Bastable and sent to cool your heels in the lock-up. You can go!" Bill took his coat, rose from the chair, and sidled to the door, his eyes never leaving the dog. He was gone! Jack sat down and laughed quietly. "I think he’s had enough, Gumley. Now I must go. I’ll see you again soon." *CHAPTER XVI* *A RUN AT SANDY COVE* It took Jack much longer in the darkness to return to the _Fury_ than it had taken to reach the cottage, and he found that Babbage was becoming uneasy. "All safe, men?" he said. "Ay, ay, sir. And you, sir?" "Right as a trivet. Heave the anchor, boys; I want to be fifty miles away by the morning."