But one, hardier than the rest, ran to the skylight, dashed in the glass with his boot, and cried with outflung arm:

“A plague upon her and her strokes. See yonder, lads — her cunning trick — our sloop comes back empty-handed, as she well knew it would — and here lies to your hands work that the Red Chief had reveled in. Down with her and the big bull! Below is loot fit for bold fellows.”

Without moving from where he stood, Milo pivoted around, the heavy handspike — six feet of true ash — rigid as a bar of iron, took the overbold pirate at the base of the skull and spilled his brains into the breach he had made. Growling with fury, a man from Sancho’s crew sprang to avenge the stroke with steel, and his blade creased down Milo’s sturdy