"Not till you give in," replied Harry. "Then----" Bang! went Mason's pistol. He did not raise it to aim, but took the young detective unawares, and the ball grazed Harry's skull, and stunned him. Dropping his pistol, he flung up his hands, reeled back, and fell over the side of the boat upon the mud, unconscious. At the same moment Sim, electrified, sprang convulsively at Old King Brady and knocked the pistol aside. It was discharged in the air. The coon seized the detective's wrists, and in a moment a terrific struggle ensued between the pair. Old King Brady thought his partner was killed. It made him frantic with rage. "You treacherous dogs! We might have expected such crooked work as this!" he cried. "But you won't escape me, I can tell you!" "Help, Mason, help!" yelled the coon. But Mason had discreetly seized the oars, and was then rowing away with all his strength, in a violent effort to escape. The negro fought with the courage of despair. But he was no match for Old King Brady. The great detective gave his wrist a sudden twist that tore it out of the darky's grip, and caught hold of Sim by the throat. His fingers closed like a vise on the darky's windpipe. "Down on your knees with you!" "Oh, golly! Yassah--I go down!" And down he went. Out came the old detective's handcuffs, and the next instant they were snapped upon Sim's wrists behind his back. "Now, don't you budge an inch till I tell you to!" panted the old man-hunter threateningly, as he aimed his pistol at Johnson. "Ise a dead niggah!" groaned the rascal, dismally. "That's what you'll be if you stir!" grimly said Old King Brady. He strode over to Harry and picked him up. First he was overjoyed to find that the boy was alive, then he carefully examined the wound on his scalp and saw it was only skin deep. He court-plastered it, to stop the bleeding. With a hatful of water he bathed the young detective's temples, and while so employed gazed around in quest of Mason. The man was far away in the boat by that time. Harry rapidly recovered, and finally got upon his feet again. His head was very sore, but otherwise he suffered no ill effects from the wound he received, and cried eagerly: "Can't we head off that villain?" "I'm going to make an effort. Grab the prisoner." While Harry took possession of the scared darky, Old King Brady ran around the swamp at the top of his speed toward the spot Mason was heading the boat for, and kept out of the rascal's view. In this manner Old King Brady reached the grounds surrounding Oliver Dalton's house, and suddenly caught view of Mason. He had landed, and was kneeling down beside a rock, under which was a hollow space from which he was drawing a package. Hearing the old detective coming, he bounded to his feet, and raised his revolver to fire. But he was not quick enough. A sharp report came from the detective's pistol. The bullet lodged in Mason's leg. With a yell of pain he fell.