SAM REBELS In the meantime on a small island in the Upper Inlet a strange conference was taking place.

Three youths whom our readers will recognize as Jack Curtiss, Bill Bender and Sam Redding; were in earnest consultation with the unkempt and unsavory individual whom we know as Hank Handcraft, the beach-comber.
"Well, the job's put through, all right," Hank was saying, as the three sat outside a small tent in front of which was a smoldering fire, about which the remnants of a meal were scattered.
"Yes, but now we've got to tackle the hardest part of it," said Jack, knitting his brows.

"I've got the letter written and here it is." As he spoke he drew from his pocket a sheet of paper.

"The question is who to send for the money when the time comes." "Oh, Hank is the man," said Ben, without an instant's hesitation.

"We must not appear in this at all." "Oh, I am the man, am ?" put in Hank, with no very gratified inflexion in his voice; "and what if I am caught?
I'm to go to prison, I suppose, while you fellows get off scot-free." "As for me," said Sam Redding, who was pale and looked scared, and whose eyes, too, were red-rimmed and heavy as if from lack of sleep, "you can count me out.