terested if they had known how closely they were observed from the deck of another vessel, hidden from view around the point. And the name painted on the bows of the hidden craft was Princess, though stress of weather had almost obliterated it.
Narrowly did an old man on the deck of the Princess watch Dick's yacht glide up the harbor. He was a man with a little bunch of white whiskers on his chin, and they moved up and down when he talked.
"Well," he remarked slowly, as he laid aside a glass through which he had been peering, "them fellers in Havana told us true. My nephew did sail for Santiago, and here he is."
"And I said we'd beat him here," remarked a man standing on deck.
"So you did, Sam Newton, so you did," assented Ezra Larabee, "an', because we got here first, I'll pay you the ten dollars extra, as I promised."
"When?" demanded Ike Murdock.
"Jest as soon as"
"As soon as the kidnappin' is done?" asked Simon Scardale.
"Hush! Don't use that word!" exclaimed Mr. Larabee. "Ain't I told you this ain't a regular kidnappin'; not in the eyes of the law. It's for my nephew's good."
"Well, we'll soon have him, if things go right," muttered Ike. "Now, what's the program, Mr.
