CHAPTER XI.

THE TURNING OF THE TABLES.

Dory Dornwood had made no promises in order to procure his release from the bonds with which he had been secured, and he felt free to fight his way out of the scrape into which he had fallen, if he could. Mr. Michael Angelo Spickles had looked, talked, and acted as though he regarded his prisoner with the utmost contempt.

They did not live in the same moral atmosphere, in the first place; and the leader of the robbers had heard something of the prowess of Dory from Matt Randolph. By taking him in the rear, he had twice overcome him, and tied his arms behind him. Perhaps the fact that he had been able to do so was the most direct source of his contempt. He went to Sunday school, as Angy described his general character; and he did not believe that a lamb of this sort could be a lion when the occasion required.

Angy had been perfectly sure that the exhibition of his revolver would reduce the prisoner to complete subjection if he proved to be refractory after he had released him. He had not intended to shoot him, when he snapped the weapon at him, for he knew something of the consequences of such a murderous act. But Dory did not "scare" as readily as he had supposed he would, and the fact that he was a Sunday-school scholar did not make a coward of him.

As soon as the revolver missed fire, Dory decided not to wait for a dryer cartridge to explode. The boat was jumping on the waves at a furious rate, and was in the act of falling off into the trough of the sea when Angy made his demonstration with the pistol. To prevent this, he had attempted to use his oars. Dory made a long spring, and threw himself on the chief of the burglars.

He came down upon him like a heavy body dropped from some point overhead. The thwart on which Angy was seated slipped out of its place under the concussion, and the two combatants came down in the bottom of the boat. Dory seized his intended victim by the throat, and contrived to get his legs on the arms of the fallen leader. Then he choked him with all his might as he struggled to free himself from this fierce embrace.

The boat fell off into the trough of the sea, and the water poured in upon them. Dory saw, that, if the affair was not finished very quickly, the conclusion of it would have to be reached in the water, with no boat under him. But no human being could stand the amount of choking inflicted upon Angy, and he soon weakened under the punishment. With a sudden movement, Dory turned him over on his face, and crowded his head down into the water in the bottom of the boat.

The rope with which Dory had been bound was within his reach; and, as soon as the resistance under him would permit, he grasped it with one hand, while he held the victim with the other. Angy realized what he was doing, even while his breath was bubbling in the water under him; and he made his last effort to shake off the Sunday-school scholar. But he was too weak to accomplish any thing, and he had to give up the battle.

It was the work of but a moment for Dory to tie his arms behind him, though he did it in the most thorough manner. He picked up the revolver, and put it in his pocket. Then he dragged the fallen chief to the stern-sheets, and dumped him in the bottom. The tables had turned, and the leading spirit of the Nautifelers Club was the prisoner. He was utterly exhausted by his choking and his useless struggles, and he lay catching his breath where his conqueror had thrown him.

Dory realized that he had no time to spare, if he intended to get the boat to the shore right side up. He sprang to the oars, and brought the tender around before the wind. He was too tired himself to row, and he simply kept the craft from getting into any dangerous situation. With one hand he bailed out the boat, while he used an oar with the other.

Angy was rapidly recovering from the effects of the battle, and he worked himself into a sitting position. Then he looked about him, and especially at the stalwart young man in front of him, whose prowess he had held in contempt. He did what Dory had done a dozen times while he was a prisoner,--he essayed to test the strength of his bonds; but they had been adjusted by one who was skilled in handling rigging. He said nothing, but the situation looked very bad to him. The Sunday-school scholar was not an infant, and Angy was willing now to believe what Matt Randolph had told him about the paragon of the school.

Dory bailed out the boat till it was comfortable in her, and then he hastened the progress of the craft by the use of the oars. It still rained in torrents, but there was a light in the east which indicated that it was the "clearing-up shower." Looking behind him, Dory discovered the land, and felt something like Columbus on another occasion. He knew just where he was; and he changed the course of the tender, in order to make a little cove.

Before he could get to the shore, the rain ceased, and the mist cleared off from the surface of the water. Suddenly the hurricane seemed to subside. The clouds, which had been dense and black overhead, began to break. It ended, like all storms in this locality which come from the south, as abruptly as it begun.

The La Motte could be seen quite distinctly, for she was hardly a mile distant. The four robbers on board of her were hoisting the foresail, which looked as though it had been reefed; and they were evidently going in search of their lost chief. Dory was happy enough to smile, and he did smile; for he was out of the reach of any pursuers in a large vessel. The wind had greatly abated its violence; and Dory had been obliged to pull some distance from his former course, in order to make the creek. But the water was shallow around him, and the schooner could not come near the land.

The inlet was the mouth of a brook, and he pulled some distance into it. When he came to a good place to land, he leaped ashore, and hauled up the bow out of the water. Without a small boat, it was simply impossible for the crew of the La Motte to follow him, even if they succeeded in finding him.

Dory was tired enough to seat himself on a rock, and recover his exhausted powers. He had a prisoner, and a resolute one, and he must get him to the school in some manner. It was likely to be hard work. He took Angy's revolver from his pocket: he wiped the water off its barrels and stock. Then he examined the cartridges. They were metallic, and ought not to be affected by the water. Aiming at a small tree, he discharged one of the barrels, and found it went off as well as it would if it had not been in the water.

"That shooter served me a bad turn," said Angy. "I never knew it to miss before."

"It served me a good turn if you aimed at me when you tried to fire it," added Dory. "However, it seems to be in condition to be useful to me if I have occasion to use it."

Its present possessor put it back into his pocket. He resolved to manage his case so well that he would have no occasion to use such a deadly weapon, and he shuddered at the very thought of firing at a human being.

"You have got ahead of me, Dory," continued Angy, bestowing a searching look upon his captor. "Chuck ruined me when he threw that painter overboard."

"In a moral point of view, that act may be your salvation," added Dory.

"I don't think I care about hearing any Sunday-school talk on this subject," replied Angy, with a scornful look on his face. "The time has not yet come for my punishment."

"Not just yet; but after you have thought of this thing for three or five years in the State prison, you may come to the conclusion that the Sunday school is not a bad institution for a fellow like you. If you had attended one, and given heed to its instructions, you would feel a good deal better than you do now."

"I say, Dory, can't we fix this thing up now?" asked Angy.

"Certainly we can; and that is just what we are going to do," replied Dory cheerfully. "I am only waiting a little while to rest. Then we will fix it up."

"You are a good fellow, or you could not have got the upper hands of me."

"Then you must be a good fellow, or you could not have rendered me the same service."

"I don't think you understand me," continued Angy uneasily. "I suppose you like money, if you do go to Sunday school."

"I don't object to money: at least, I have no grudge against it."

"That's sensible; and I will give you a thousand dollars in cash on the spot, if you will go home without me. Just untie my arms, and let me pull off to the schooner, and it will be all right. You can go on the biggest temperance spree you ever heard of on that sum," said Angy earnestly.

"Spot cash?"

"Spot cash."

"You carry a good deal of money about with you, I see."

"I happen to have it with me. You can take the money, and old Squalipop will be none the wiser for what you have done."

"Won't he?"

"Not a bit of it! I shall get out of the way, and he won't know that you and I have met."

"But I shall know it myself, and that will be just as unfortunate as though he knew it."

"You can go back with a thousand dollars in your pocket, which will come handy during vacation."

"Go back with a thousand dollars in my pocket," repeated Dory, as though he was musing over it. "A thousand dollars is a good thing to have, and it is twice as good to have two thousand. I don't think I shall be satisfied with one thousand. But I think you had better come on shore, Angy. I won't ask you to do an impossible thing, and I will help you."

Dory took the robber by the collar of his wet coat, and assisted him to the shore. Angy made no resistance, though he evidently did not like the proceedings of his captor. Dory seated him on a rock, and Angy continued to argue in favor of the arrangement he had proposed.

"Do you really carry a thousand dollars about you? I have my doubts; and if you have no objections, I should like to satisfy myself on this point," continued Dory; and as he spoke, he proceeded to make an examination of the pockets of his prisoner.

"But I do object!" protested the prisoner, as he sprang to his feet with an effort, and began to whirl about like a top. "Don't put your hand on me!"

"Be calm and gentle, Angy," replied Dory, as he took the prisoner by the collar, and tripped him up, so that he was forced to lie down, in spite of himself.

With his foot on the form of his victim, Dory thrust his hand into all the pockets of Angy; and from the one inside of his vest, he drew out a pocket-book, thoroughly soaked with water. He opened it, and found a roll of bank-bills, which had been hastily tumbled into one of the pockets. He unrolled the bills enough to find four five-hundred-dollar notes, which assured him that the money had been taken from his uncle's safe.

"I will keep this pocket-book for you," said he.

The prisoner was furious, and began to kick at his captor.