A Millionaire at Sixteen by Oliver Optic

By this time Louis had come to believe that "Flounder" was not the real name of the recruit he had picked up. The fellow had been out to Von Blonk Park, but he doubted if he had been near Mr. Steinberger's residence. But he had not time to consider the matter then, for his prisoner was very restive, and protested against being conveyed to the Phantom in his present wounded condition.

"What do you wish me to do with you? " demanded Louis as he ceased rowing, for the boat was now at a considerable distance from the point.

"Put me back on the shore from which you had no right to take me," replied Flounder.

"Do you wish me to leave you, wounded as you are, in the woods there?"

"I can take care of myself better than you can take care of me."

"As I understand the situation, I engaged you to work for me, engaged your passage on the steamer, and agreed to pay you wages. I shall not desert you now that you are wounded," added Louis.

"Who wounded me? " asked the recruit.

"I did, when you threatened my life with your revolver. In self-defence I fired at you, and hit you just where I intended, for I did not mean to kill or seriously injure you; and I don't believe I have done so."

"Our contract ended when you fired at me, and I insist upon being put ashore," said Flounder, rising from his seat in the stern sheets, where Louis had placed him. "Either return me to the point, or I will jump over and swim for it, for I can do so with one arm left."

Louis felt that he had a stronger motive than the comfort of the recruit in retaining him; for the cook had informed him that the Maud was in the bay, and this man would be only another person added to the force of Scoble. Flounder had risen from his seat in the stern sheets, and turned to look at the distance between him and the shore, evidently measuring it with his eye, and estimating his power to accomplish it by swimming with one hand.

The wounded man was about the size of Scoble, and the young millionaire had already convinced himself that he was more than a match for him, at least in his present half-disabled condition. He judged that the fellow really intended to make the attempt to swim to the point, which was not more than a hundred feet distant. Rising in his place at the stroke oar, he seized Flounder by the back of his coat collar, and then sat down again, dragging his opponent after him.

The victim struggled, but taken at a disadvantage he could not make an effectual resistance.

Louis held him fast, and rolled him over to one side, so that he rested on the after thwart upon his left shoulder, his wound being in the right one. He kept him in this position, looking about the boat till he discovered a roll of spun-yarn, which he directed the cook to pass to him.

Still holding his prisoner upon the thwart, he ordered Bickling to make fast the left wrist of the man to his suspender behind, so that he could not use that arm any more than the other. In doing this the principal operator had been obliged to throw open Flounder's coat and vest. As he did so, he discovered a package of papers and letters in the pocket inside of the vest. He did not scruple to take possession of these, an act which excited the wrath of the victim to an ungovernable extent.

"Do you mean to rob me of my private papers? " demanded Flounder as Louis permitted him to roll off the thwart into the bottom of the boat.

"After a man has threatened my life with a revolver, I intend to ascertain as much about him as possible," replied Louis quietly. "Perhaps I know what I am about better than you think I do."

"This is an outrage! " roared the victim.

"I suppose it is; but I also think it was an outrage to fall upon a defenceless man, throw him down, and attempt to bind his hands behind him, as I found you in the act of doing, Mr. Flounder. I am willing to take the responsibility of everything I do."

"You will have to suffer for this! I will have satisfaction for this, if I have to follow you all over the world! " yelled the recruit, so beside himself with anger that he could hardly utter his words, and looked like a naughty boy crying in his fury.

"Give way, Bickling," said Louis, poising his oar.