As soon as Paul was down, Mad Twinker, who was the one who demonstrated with his boots, jumped upon him, and clawed his fingers into the throat of the unfortunate son of toil. Just at this moment the party from the back street came up, and the two fresh ruffians assisted Mad in securing the victim. They had obtained a couple of pieces of bedcord at the house of the major, and they tied his arms behind him. Paul was so exhausted that he could make no further resistance, and he submitted to be bound. His breath was hardly shorter than that of his last opponents, who were now wiping the blood from their faces. The ruffians had earned their money, so far as the capture of the victim was concerned; and it only remained for them to deliver the prisoner to Major Billcord at Sandy Point. Two of the ruffians went to a pump and wet their handkerchiefs, with which they washed their own faces. Paul's handkerchief was taken from his pocket, and the stains of blood were removed from his battered face. In a few minutes they had wiped away the traces of the conflict. Then two of the students, one on each side, took Paul by the arms and marched him towards the wharf. When they came in sight of it, they saw that all the barges were manned, and had pulled a short distance from the shore, where they awaited the absent members of the crews. The Beech Hillers had taken position off the end of the pier, while the Chesterfields were near the land. There was still quite a collection of people on the wharf, drawn thither for the purpose of seeing the barges, and possibly expecting a race or a fight, the latter being more probable in the opinion of the spectators; the battles of the previous season having been duly reported in the town. The Silver Moon, with Bissell and Dory in the standing-room, was running with the wind on her beam for Scotch Bonnet. The six ruffians halted when they came in sight of the wharf, and gathered around their prisoner. "This will never do," said Mad Twinker, shaking his head. "We can't take him through that crowd of people on the wharf." "That's so," replied Buck Lamb, who had lost some of his prestige since his overthrow, and Mad Twinker had come to the front. "Four of us can handle him well enough now. Jeff Monroe, and you, Steve Douglas, go and get Bissell's four-oar boat." "Bissell isn't there now," replied Jeff. "Stop at his store as you go along, hire it for a couple of hours, and get the key," continued Mad Twinker. "Pull up to the creek at the head of the bay, and we will meet you there."