“Oi, oi!” exploded Ikey characteristically. “They got him tied up ready for the spit yet.” “Is that the bloomin’ spy?” growled the big British seaman. “Let me get me ’ands on ’im.” “Easy, Bill,” said Al Torrance. “You know what that brass hat said about your bringing the spy in alive.” “Hi wouldn’t kill ’im--now I’m cooled hoff,” the ex-coster declared. “But ’ee won’t get awye from hus--no fear!” Whistler had not joined in this conversation. He turned the body over and Frenchy uttered an ear-piercing yell: “What do you know about that?” he added. “It’s George Belding!” “Say!” growled Al. “They could hear you on the _Colodia_. If that spy is here----” “He’s got far enough away by this time!” Whistler exclaimed, swiftly getting out his knife to cut Belding’s bonds. The latter was gagged most cruelly with a stick tied between his jaws. So far had the stick been thrust into the lad’s mouth that the corners were cracked and bleeding. Whistler cut away his friend’s gag first of all. “The nasty villain!” cried Willum Johnson. “’Ow did ’ee do hit?” “Are you hurt, George?” demanded Morgan. “I’m bumped some,” admitted the other American lad. “But I’m hurt most in my dignity,” and he tried to grin. “The scoundrel cut your lips with that stick,” said Al Torrance. “Where did he go?” “Ask me something easier. I only know he went--and if he kept on the way he started he’s a long way from here by now.” “But where are your clothes?” demanded Whistler Morgan. “What do you think?” cried Belding. “The dirty Heinie is wearing them!” “Good-_night_!” gasped Frenchy. “Is it a U. S. sailor he wants to be?” “Tell us!” commanded Whistler earnestly. “Why, you see,” Belding responded, getting up now after having rubbed his chafed ankles, “it was like this: Just as soon as you got out of sight, Morgan, the Heinie began to travel. I started right after him, and he came down here into this wood. I believe I wasn’t very smart--or he was smarter than I. Guess that is pretty well proved isn’t it?” and Belding smiled wryly. “I had in mind all the time that he had two pistols under this smock he wore, so I tried not to attract his attention. You can see I failed in my attempt.” “How did it happen?” Whistler asked. “I stepped on a stick. I suppose that was what put him wise to me. Anyway, the stick cracked. I jumped behind a tree. I could see him ahead of me in the path and he did not turn his head or apparently hear the crackling stick. But he must have been sharper than I thought.” “These ’ere ’Uns,” declared Willum Johnson, “is hup to all sorts o’ tricks.” “He was a trickster, all right,” agreed George Belding, with much disgust in his tone of voice. “I followed right along like the idiot I was, and all of a sudden the fellow disappeared. I thought he had moved faster, so I went faster.” “And then what?” asked Al. “I came up to the tree he was hiding behind, and he stepped out and stuck one of those pistols of his right under my nose!”