go pledge he will forgive you."

So far Dick had spoken pretty much at random; but it was now necessary,

under the supervision of six eyes, to invent and tell some marvellous

story, and, if it were possible, get back into his hands the

all-important signet. To squander time was the first necessity. The

longer his stay lasted, the more would his captors drink, and the surer

should he be when he attempted his escape.

Well, Dick was not much of an inventor, and what he told was pretty much

the tale of Ali Baba, with Shoreby and Tunstall Forest substituted for

the East, and the treasures of the cavern rather exaggerated than

diminished. As the reader is aware, it is an excellent story, and has

but one drawback--that it is not true; and so, as these three simple

shipmen now heard it for the first time, their eyes stood out of their

faces, and their mouths gaped like codfish at a fishmonger's.

Pretty soon a second measure of mulled ale was called for; and while Dick

was still artfully spinning out the incidents a third followed the

second.

Here was the position of the parties towards the end: Arblaster,

three-parts drunk and one-half asleep, hung helpless on his stool. Even

Tom had been much delighted with the tale, and his vigilance had abated

in proportion. Meanwhile, Dick had gradually wormed his right arm clear

of its bonds, and was ready to risk all.

The Black Arrow