In an instant, by their united efforts, they pushed the fellow back and closed the lid that covered the stairs. Then Ed remembered that there was a door leading out of the cabin into the hold of the boat. He suggested to two of the boys that they go below, and close that with bales of hay and the like. They did so hurriedly, piling the hay and some apple barrels against the door, until it would have required the strength of half a dozen men to push it open. In the meantime Ed had possessed himself of a hatchet and nails, and had securely nailed down the scuttle. Just then Irv Strong thought of something. “Suppose he gets desperate? He could easily set fire to things down there.” “That’s so,” said Phil, who had just returned from the hold. “Bring the fire-extinguishers.” By the time they got the four large carbonic acid receptacles a new thought had occurred to Ed. “Bring an auger, boys. There’s one lying forward there. The big one.” It was quickly brought, though none of the boys could guess what Ed intended to do. He took the auger, and quickly bored an inch hole in the scuttle. A flash and a bullet came through it, but nobody was hurt. “Now, give me an extinguisher,” said Ed. Putting the nozzle of the hose through the hole, he turned the apparatus upside down, and allowed its contents to be driven violently into the little cabin. When the first extinguisher was exhausted he turned on the hose of another, and after that of a third. For a while the imprisoned man, shut up in a box ten feet by twelve and not over five or six feet high, indulged in lusty yells, but these soon became husky, and presently ceased entirely. The moment they did, Ed called out:-- “Rip off the scuttle quick, boys; he’s suffocated.” The boys did not at all understand what had happened, but they acted promptly in obedience to their wisest comrade’s order. When the scuttle was opened and a lantern brought, Jim was seen lying limp at the foot of the little ladder. “Now, be careful,” said Ed. “Irving, you and Phil--you’re the strongest--go down, hold your breath, and drag him up. Be sure to hold your breath. Do just as you do when you’re diving.” They made an effort, but almost instantly came back, gasping for air, sneezing, and with eyes and noses tingling. “Catch your breath quick,” said Ed, “and go down again. You must get him out, or he will be dead, if he isn’t dead already.” They made another dash, this time acting more carefully upon the instruction to treat the descent as if it were a dive, and carefully holding their breath. In a brief while they dragged the body of the pilot out upon the deck, and Ed gave directions for restoring life by artificial respiration. “You see, he’s practically a drowned man,” he said. “Drowned?” said Will Moreraud. “Why, he’s not even been in the water, and that little dash with the hose wouldn’t drown a kitten.” “Never mind that,” said Ed; “quick now; he’s drowned, or just the same thing. We must bring him to life.”