And where was Gus all this while? He was just where he had been every day since he came from Elmwood, and that was in Barlow's saloon. The boarding-house keeper was almost the only one there was in the village who would have anything to do with him, and Gus liked to be in his company, for the old man talked of nothing but the "meanness" of which Captain Nellis had been guilty, and was never tired of rehearsing the plans he had laid against his son. Gus, knowing that Bob was expected on this particular morning, dropped into the saloon as if by accident, but in reality for the purpose of directing Barlow's attention to him in case the old man did not happen to see him when he landed from the steamer. But Barlow always knew who landed in that port, day or night. His house fronted on the wharf, and by taking his stand in the door he could see everyone who passed. This morning Bob was almost the first passenger that left the steamer, and Barlow knew him at once.

"There's that conceited young prig now," said he, quickly. "I didn't tell you that I had got things all fixed for him, did I, Mr. 'Gustus?"

"No," replied the boy.

"Well, I will tell you," said Barlow, leaving the door and walking to his accustomed place behind the counter, "because I know the secret will be safe with you, and perhaps I shall want you to help me."

"Be careful," interrupted Gus, nodding his head toward a sailor who was seated near the end of the counter with his hat drawn down over his eyes, as if fast asleep.

"No fear of him," replied Barlow. "He has been snoring there for the last hour. As I was going to say, a ship is to sail to-night for Australia and the Spice Islands, and the cap'n has been here a dozen times during the last few days, begging me to raise a crew for him by fair means or foul. I've got all but two aboard, and I've got them in my eye. Bob Nellis is one, and there's the other," said Barlow, pointing to the sailor before spoken of.

"Who is he?" asked Gus.

"Why, don't you know? Then it must be because he keeps his hat down over his face. If he would raise it for a moment you would see that he is old Ben Watson, your uncle's gardener. When your father got possession of the place he kicked out all the old servants, as you know, and hired niggers to fill their places. I suppose he don't want them about, to remind him of his brother-in-law, and I don't blame him. Ever since he was discharged, Ben has been layin' around with no heart to go at anything, and he owes me twenty dollars for board and grub. I've tried my best to ship him in a crew by fair means, for Ben is a good sailor, but the old fellow says he has too many years on his shoulders. But I must have him for the J. W. Smart, 'cause I can't find anybody else that is goin' to sail, and so I shall have to doctor his tea to-night."

"Drug it?" asked Gus.

"Yes; put him to sleep and take him aboard before he awakes. And now about Bob. He is going up to your house, I suppose, and if you will keep an eye on him, and get him out into the garden to-night about eight o'clock, me and my barkeeper will slip up and take him in tow, and no one will be the wiser for it. I shall make sixty dollars by shipping him and Ben, and I'll give you ten of it. What do you say?"

"It is a bargain," replied Gus, wondering at the readiness with which he accepted the villainous offer. "I will be on hand when you want me."

"You will never see him again when once he is aboard that ship," continued Barlow. "Cap'n French is the hardest ship-master that ever sailed, and when a man doesn't do to suit him, he quietly knocks him overboard. More than that, the ship belongs to old man Brock, who feeds his hands on nothin' and pays them the same. He has to promise them thirty dollars a month, for that is what they are payin' out of this port, but he always orders his skippers to treat them harshly, so that they will desert the first chance they get, and the cap'n fills their places with cheaper hands, which they can always find in foreign ports. Between the belayin'-pins which Cap'n French slings about so reckless, and the yellow fever, and the niggers among whom they are going to trade, Mr. Bob will have a lively time of it. Now, don't forget to have him out of the house to-night at eight o'clock sharp, and me and my barkeeper will do the rest. We'll just slip up there—"

Barlow suddenly paused and startled his auditor with the heaviest kind of an oath. Gus followed the direction of his gaze and saw that it rested on the sailor, who had raised his hat from his face and was looking at them with wide-open eyes. It was old Ben Watson, sure enough, and he had heard every word of the conversation.

Never in his life had Gus been more astounded and alarmed. He leaned against the counter and stared stupidly at old Ben, and even Barlow seemed to be at his wits' end. The old sailor was the only one who retained his presence of mind. Hastily putting on his hat he arose and started for the door; but his indignation got the better of his prudence, and he stopped to say a parting word to the conspirators.

"You'll kidnap me and Bob and ship us off to foreign parts against our will, will you!" he exclaimed. "Not if I know myself. I'll have the pair of you arrested in less'n an hour!"

These words seemed to bring Barlow to his senses. Like all men of his class he had faithful assistants close at hand, who had lent their aid in more than one emergency like the present, and he shouted out their names with so much earnestness that they lost no time in making their appearance.

"Here, Bull! Bull! I say, Samson! Show yourself!" he roared.

The first was a huge bull-dog which was lying on the steps in front of the house, and the second was the barkeeper, a man who, judging by his size and apparent muscular power, was rightly named. These two worthies came in at opposite doors at the same instant. The dog at once launched himself at the sailor's throat, but was met half-way by a heavy chair, which Ben caught up and threw at him with such accuracy of aim that the fierce brute was stretched motionless on the floor. In an instant he turned upon the barkeeper. Just as he put out his hands to seize Ben from behind he was met by a stunning blow in the face—a regular one-two, which showed that the old sailor had received some early training in boxing—and he, too, was stretched on the floor, quivering like a man who had just had his death-wound.

"Got any more help?" said Ben. "I ought to put you by the side of them, you old land-shark, and I will, too, if you open your head."

But it seems that Ben was not alone. There was a scurrying of feet out in front of the house, and who should come in but Leon Sprague and his father. They had had some business on the docks and were just going home when their attention was attracted by the noise of the fight going on in Barlow's saloon. Mr. Sprague was a man the boarding-house keeper was not at all delighted to see. During the short time he had been in the village he had been elected police magistrate, and of course he had it in his power to get at the bottom of the matter.

"What is the meaning of this?" he exclaimed. "Put down that chair!"

"Gus Layton!" said Sprague, astonished almost beyond measure to find his old stroke there in the saloon.

"Yes, sir; it is Gus Layton," responded Ben. "He and that old land-shark have been laying their plans to kidnap Bob and me to-night and send us off to foreign parts. They would have taken me at once if I hadn't laid the bull-dog and barkeeper out. I want the pair of them arrested."

"It's a lie!" said the barkeeper, arousing himself at this moment.

"Yes, of course it is!" exclaimed Barlow, catching at the idea thus thrown out. "It's a lie out of the whole cloth. Ain't it, Gus?"

"Ye-es," said Gus, who didn't know whether he stood on his head or his feet, so frightened was he. "Of course it is a lie. He was asleep, and dreamed it all."

"That's the idea," echoed Barlow. "He was asleep there on that table, with his hat over his eyes, and dreamed about being kidnapped. There ain't a word of truth in it. Gus came in here to ask me—to say that he had seen—to ask me how I was, in fact, and I told him I was pretty well—"

"If I ain't telling you the truth I don't want to lay up anything for old age," said Ben, earnestly; and one couldn't have looked into his honest face and accused him of telling a falsehood. "I was just as wide-awake as I am at this moment, and heard them talk the matter all over. When I got up to go, Barlow yelled for the barkeeper and the bull-dog."

"I believe that is so," Sprague whispered to his father. "You are Ben Watson, are you not?"

"Yes, sir; that's who I am."

"Well, did you know that Bob has come home?"

"I never knew it until to-day, sir. I want to see him the first thing I do."

"I wouldn't make out a warrant for anybody's arrest until Ben has had an interview with Bob," said Sprague to his father. "I have heard a good deal about Ben Watson, but I never heard of his telling a lie yet. Come on. I'll go up to the house with you."

"Now let me tell you something before I go away," said Mr. Sprague. "You are beginning to keep a most disorderly house here, and the very next time you have a fight here I shall shut you up."

"I tell you, sir, we ain't been keepin' no disorderly house," replied Barlow. He was as mad a man as ever stepped, but he took good care not to show it. "That fellow has been asleep and dreamed—"

"I understand all about it," said Mr. Sprague. "I only caution you against having another fight here."

Barlow walked around behind the counter, the barkeeper got up and rubbed his face, which began to be puffed out around the eyes, the bull-dog staggered to his feet and began reeling across the floor, and Gus leaned on the place where the drinks were served, so utterly amazed and bewildered that he could not speak.

"Those two are going up to your house," said Barlow, recovering his speech with an effort. He had first uttered a volley of oaths when he saw his bull-dog and his barkeeper worsted, and had gathered up a chair to take a hand in the muss, but his swear-words grew soft the moment Mr. Sprague entered. He knew that the magistrate had a right to fine him for every oath to which he gave utterance. "They are going up to your house, and they'll see Bob there."

"That's just what I am afraid of," said Gus, walking up and down in front of the counter and wringing his hands. "I don't see what made me come here, anyway."

"No more do I," said Barlow, looking savagely at him. "The whole thing is out on us. You had better get out of here as soon as you can, and don't come to us with any more trickery."

"Why, this was your own doing!" said Gus, surprised to learn that he was the cause of all Barlow's trouble. "You hollered for the barkeeper and the bull-dog—"

"But I wouldn't 'a' done it if you hadn't been here!" retorted the old man, angrily. "Come now, get out!"

Barlow came out from behind the counter and Gus made haste to get through the open door into the street; but where should he go? He pulled his hat down over his eyes, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and walked along, thinking the matter over.

"If that man ever gets into another row I'll shut him up," repeated Mr. Sprague, as they hurried on in the direction of the house which had once been Bob's home. "I have heard of such things as shipping a lot of landsmen to make up a ship's company, but I never thought it would be brought home to me in this manner. Watson, you're sure you were not asleep and dreamed it all?"

"I told you nothing but the truth," said Ben, as if he hoped in some way to make Mr. Sprague believe it. "I can repeat every word they said. You ask Bob, and see if he will believe me. I never told a lie in my life, except when I was telling some stories of the sea."

"Well, Leon will go around there with you and I'll go home. And I want you to add my earnest invitation to Leon's, and tell Bob that if he can't see his way clearly to stopping there he must come up to my house."

Ben promised compliance, and Mr. Sprague turned up the street that led to his residence.

"I'll tell you another thing," said Ben. "That man Barlow says I owe him twenty dollars for grub and lodging. I'll go there to-morrow and pay him, though to tell the truth I didn't suppose I owed him anything. I've got money that I saved while Cap'n Nellis was here, and if Bob wants it he can have it."

"You say when Mr. Nellis was here," replied Leon. "Then you don't think he is dead?"

"He's as lively as you or I at this minute," said Ben, earnestly.

"Then why don't you go and get him?" asked Leon.

"Ah! That's the trouble. We don't know where he is. The ocean is large, and there's a heap of islands scattered around in it."

"But Barlow might have killed him. They went for you pretty rough."

"They didn't kill nobody; Barlow hasn't stooped quite low enough for that yet. I don't say that Barlow had a hand in it, but I think I know who had. And this 'will' business. I tell you it is all a fraud."

Ben became silent after this, and said no more until they had opened the iron gate and moved up the sidewalk to the door that led to Bob's home; for it was Bob's home in spite of all that happened, and Ben acknowledged the fact. It didn't make any difference how many people came there to live, the will wasn't right, even though it had been admitted to probate. Mr. Layton was on hand, and he sent Sam with orders to clear them out. He knew Sprague and Watson, and he was afraid to have them come there.

"Sah, it's moster's positive commands dat you," began Sam—

"Never mind that," said Sprague. "We have come here to see Bob. If he is about the house ask him to come here."

"I—I don't know, sah," hesitated Sam, "but I think he has gone away. He hain't been around de house since 'arly dis morning. I will go and see what moster say about it."

The negro disappeared, locking the front door behind him, whereupon Sprague looked at Ben and smiled. It made Ben madder than ever. It was the first time he had ever had that front door locked upon him. The darky passed along the hall until he reached the library door, upon which he pounded with his fingers. He opened it in response to the summons from the inside, and found Mr. Layton pacing the floor. He was paler now than he was the first time we saw him, and trembled so visibly that any one could have noticed it.

"Dem gemmen out dar gwine to see Moster Bob," said Sam, in a tone of voice that Mr. Layton did not like. It showed that the darky understood that there was something wrong. "Yes, sah; they gwine to see him. Mebbe he up in his room, sah."

"That's a pretty way to talk!" said Mr. Layton. "They come onto my grounds without being invited, and then say they are going to see somebody. Did you lock the front door?"

"Oh, yes, sah; I locked it."

"Then let them ring until they are tired. They will soon get weary of it and go away. Have you seen Augustus lately? Well, when he comes, tell him that I want to see him."

But it seems that Sprague was not in the habit of ringing the bells on doors that had been locked against him. He had another and a better way of reaching the ears of the boy he wanted to see. After waiting a sufficient length of time for the negro to open the door he threw back his head and whistled, shrilly, three long whistles and a short one, and he knew that if Bob was anywhere about the house that signal would be sure to bring him out. Nor was he disappointed. One of the upper windows was thrown up and Bob's head was thrust out. He did not look much like the stroke of the winning boat that had been rowed in the race at Elmwood. His face was pale and sunken, and his eyes looked as though they had long been in want of sleep. But his voice was as strong as ever.

"Halloo, Sprague; I didn't expect to see you again so soon," said he. "Why, isn't that Ben Watson? I'll be down directly."

In a few moments they heard his steps coming down the stairs. He tried the door, but it was locked, and he stopped to turn the key. When he appeared on the porch his face wore an angry expression which even Sprague had never seen there before.

"I didn't lock it, boys," said he, as he hurried down the steps to shake Watson by the hand. "I heard you talking, but I didn't know who it was. It is the first time a door has been locked in the face of my friends."

"But that ain't the worst of it, Mister Bob," said Ben, lifting his hat to the boy out of respect to his old commander. "You know that saloon that is run by that old land-shark Barlow, don't you?"

"I know of it, but I have never been there," returned Bob. "What of it? Has anything been going on there?"

"Well, I should say so," said Ben. "Gus Layton has been there, and him and Barlow have made all arrangements for shipping us on the ship Smart and sending us off to foreign parts."

Bob was utterly amazed, and began to see that Gus was not quite so helpless as he thought he was. He looked toward Sprague to confirm the story, and he nodded his head.

"Did you hear it?" asked Bob.

"No; but we got there in time to help Ben. He had the bull-dog and the barkeeper laid out and was getting ready to defend himself against Barlow, who had a chair."

"And then they said I was asleep and dreamed it all!" chimed in Ben. "I never was more wide-awake in my life. Mister Bob, you don't want to go near the garden to-night."

"I will see a lawyer about it this very afternoon," said Bob, with a very determined expression on his face. "I am not going to put up with this thing any longer. They seem to think that, because they have taken my father's property away, they can drive me out of town; but I'll show them that they can't."

"Good for you, Mister Bob!" said Ben; and he reached out his hand for another shake. "I always said that you would come out at the top of the heap. I've got some money, and you can have it all."

"Thank you, Ben; but I don't think I shall have need for it."

"Let us go a little farther away from the house before we do any more talking," said Sprague. "These windows are open, and it would be any easy matter for someone to slip up and hear everything we said."

"Now, Ben, I want you to begin and tell me all about that kidnapping business," said Bob, as they walked along toward the gate. "How was he going to do it?"

As they walked away somebody behind one of the curtains, near one of the open windows, straightened up and staggered toward the library. It was Mr. Layton, and he had heard every word of their conversation. When he reached the library he sank into the nearest chair and rang the bell for the negro, who presently appeared.

"Sam," said Mr. Layton, in a trembling voice, "put on your cap and see if you can find Augustus somewhere about the streets. If you can, tell him that I want to see him directly—directly, mind you. Those are my imperative orders."