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"Mallory!" shouted Billy Byrne, who had entirely recovered from the blow that had

merely served to stun him for a moment. "Is Mallory alive?"

He was yesterday," replied Norris; "these fellows from whom you so bravely

rescued us told us that much."

"Thank God!" whispered Billy Byrne.

"What made you think he was dead?" inquired the officer, looking closely at Byrne

as though trying to place him.

Another man might have attempted to evade the question but the new Billy Byrne

was no coward in any department of his moral or physical structure.

"Because I thought that I had killed him," he replied, "the day that we took the

Lotus."

Captain Norris looked at the speaker in undisguised horror.

"You!" he cried. "You were one of those damned cut-throats! You the man that

nearly killed poor Mr. Mallory! Miss Harding, has he offered you any indignities?"

Don't judge him rashly, Captain Norris," said the girl. "But for him I should have

been dead and worse than dead long since. Some day I will tell you of his heroism

and his chivalry, and don't forget, Captain, that he has just saved you and Mr.

Foster from captivity and probable death."

That's right," exclaimed the officer, "and I want to thank him; but I don't

understand about Mallory."

"Never mind about him now," said Billy Byrne. "If he's alive that's all that counts-

-I haven't got his blood on my hands. Go on with your story."

"Well, after that gang of pirates left us," continued the captain, "we rigged an

extra wireless that they didn't know we had, and it wasn't long before we raised

the warship Alaska. Her commander put a crew on board the Lotus with

machinists and everything necessary to patch her up--coaled and provisioned her

and then lay by while we got her in running order. It didn't take near as long as

you would have imagined. Then we set out in company with the warship to

search for the 'Clarinda,' as your Captain Simms called her. We got on her track

through a pirate junk just north of Luzon--he said he'd heard from the natives of

a little out-of-the-way island near Formosa that a brigantine had been wrecked

there in the recent typhoon, and his description of the vessel led us to believe

that it might be the 'Clarinda,' or Halfmoon.

124

The Mucker