“Don’t move an inch!” Tempest said in a voice which carried conviction. “Jim, fasten that door. We’ll bottle up the other Kanaka till this gentleman has thoroughly grasped the situation.” “That――that thing’s loaded,” gasped Flagg, beginning to regain his self-possession after the shock of being so rudely awakened. “I suspected the fact,” said Tempest. “And just because it is loaded, you will be more reasonable.” “Well, don’t point it at me. It might go off.” “It not only might, but it will if you make a move. Jim, see if you can find any more rifles or six-shooters around.” Jim turned out lockers and ransacked pockets, but was unable to find anything except a box of cartridges, of which Tempest immediately took possession. “Now,” said the latter, “the game is up, as far as you are concerned.” If looks could have killed, Tempest would have been a dead man. Flagg, however, had wonderful control over himself, and his expression altered. “We’ve all come on a fool’s errand, Tempest,” he said, in tones that were intended to be ingratiating. “There may have been treasure here at one time, but there isn’t now.” “All the more reason why you can scoot back to Washington Island at top speed with an easy mind,” was the uncompromising reply. “Of course, there’s always a chance, if we searched long enough――” “You’ve had your chance, Flagg, and you took it dishonorably. You won’t get another until we have had ours.” “But couldn’t we all work together? It’s a bigger job than you seem to think.” The man still, apparently, cherished the hope that the _Hatteras_ treasure might be located. “Listen to me,” said Tempest. “I did intend, if ever I got this opportunity, to give you the biggest hiding you ever heard of. You deserve it――and worse. I’m not sure I shouldn’t be doing a kindness to you by teaching you a lesson. You’re a sneak, Flagg, a low sneak-thief. I have felt like punching your fat head until you cried for mercy. But now that you are where I can do it, I won’t soil my hands on you. A bullet is more the sort of medicine you need,” he added, suddenly warming up and pushing the muzzle of the revolver within an inch of the man’s forehead. Flagg squirmed. For a moment fear showed in his eyes. “Bah!” said Tempest. “You’re a chicken-hearted old scoundrel, after all, when it comes to a pinch, and when you aren’t holding the gun. See, I’ll give you ten minutes to clear out. Jim, take the dory ashore, and bring off the Kanaka. You needn’t be afraid of leaving us alone. I’ve got something here that will keep our friend quiet.” Jim rowed to the beach and there found Dave standing on guard over his prisoner, with a stout piece of driftwood in his hand. The man had recovered, but was lying still, evidently realizing that the boy had him at a disadvantage. “What’s happened?” Dave asked eagerly. “Meester Flagg going for li’le trip,” Jim replied. “He take this feller with him.”