Reasoning from the opinions expressed by the nautical experts, Louis expected to find the Maud in this bay, which the cook had recognized as the one where Scoble had concealed her before. She had come to the southward because that course gave her a fair wind; and she had not sailed directly for Bermuda, for the Blanche would certainly have overhauled her if she had done so. The chase must have put in at some inlet; and as Scoble had been into “Dolphin Bay” before, it was quite probable that he had sheltered himself here again. Louis sat in the boat for half an hour or more, thinking over the situation, and wondering when the Guardian-Mother would arrive. She could hardly be expected before the next day, and all the Phantom had to do was to blockade the inlet, in accordance with the instructions of Captain Ringgold. While he was reflecting very busily, he heard a yell from the shore. “Help! help!” was the appeal that came to him; and the voice was like that of Bickling. He was startled at the cry, and he wondered if Scoble was in the act of recovering possession of his cook. Leaping from the boat on the impulse of the moment, he was about to rush to the assistance of the person who needed aid, when he discovered that the boat was afloat because he had moved his weight out of it. He drew it far up on the beach, but it reminded him that he was to use prudence. If the boat had gone adrift the tide would have carried it out to sea, unless the watch on the Phantom intercepted it. “Help! help! murder!” yelled the voice again, and not very far from him. Louis ran with all his might in the direction taken by the two men, and soon came upon them. The cook was on the ground, and the recruit was bending over him, apparently engaged in binding his arms behind him. “What are you about?” demanded Louis, in good, vigorous English. “What are you doing with that man?” “Softly, you little chickenpop! You needn’t come any nearer, for this affair is mine and not yours,” returned the ruffian. “I shall make it my affair! Let the man up at once!” “If you will excuse me, I will not do it,” replied Flounder. “I think you will!” added Louis, breaking into a run, and rushing with all his might to the scene of the outrage. “Stop where you are!” shouted Flounder, as he rose to an upright position with one of his feet on the chest of his victim so that he could not move. At the same moment the cook’s assailant levelled a revolver at the head of the young man, who had not been intimidated by his threats. But Louis already had his hand upon his own weapon, and perhaps forgetting the lessons in prudence which had been given to him that day and often before, he drew it out, and fired instantly. The revolver which was pointed at his head suddenly dropped upon the ground, and the arm that held it fell to the side of the assailant.