“I will,” replied Wilton, desperately.

The strange words which Shuffles used, and the confidence he manifested in the success of his project, carried the hesitating lookout man.  He was fascinated by the “clap-trap” which the leader of “our fellows” had adopted to help along his scheme, for it promised to afford no little excitement during the voyage.

“Now you talk like a man, Wilton,” replied Shuffles.  “You shall be a member of the league at once.”

“What’s the league?”

“The Chain League.”

“Upon my word, Shuffles, you have been reading yellow-covered novels to some purpose.”

“I didn’t get this idea from a novel.  I invented it myself.”

“The Chain League!” repeated Wilton, who was pleased with the title of the conspirators.

“It will be called simply ‘The Chain.’  I am the first member, and you are the second; or you will be when you have been toggled.”

“Toggled again!” laughed Wilton.  “What do you mean?”

“Initiated.”

“Go ahead, then.”

“Repeat after me.”

“Go on,” replied Wilton, deeply interested in the proceeding, even while he was amused at its formality.

“I am a link of the chain.”

“I am a link of the chain,” repeated Wilton.

“I will obey my superior officers.”

“I will obey my superior officers.”

“And I will reveal none of its secrets.”

“And I will reveal none of its secrets.”

“This I promise——­”

“This I promise——­”

“On penalty of falling overboard accidentally.”

“On penalty of what?” demanded Wilton, both puzzled and terrified by the mysterious words.

“Repeat the words after me.  On penalty,” said Shuffles, sternly.

“I know what the words are, but I’ll be hanged if I will repeat them.  ‘Falling overboard accidentally!’ What does that mean?”

“It means that, if you betray the secrets of The Chain, you might fall overboard accidentally, some day.”

“That is, you would push me over when no one was looking,” added Wilton, involuntarily retreating from the conspirator, whom, for the moment, he regarded as a very dangerous companion.

“That’s what the words mean,” replied Shuffles, coolly.

“Have I been toggled?” demanded Wilton.

“No; you didn’t repeat all the words.”

“Then you needn’t toggle me any more.  I’ve got enough of this thing.”

“All right; just as you say.  But I can tell you this, my dear fellow? if you should whisper the first word of what has passed between us to-night, you might fall overboard,” continued Shuffles, sharply, as he laid his hand on his companion’s shoulder.

Wilton grasped the sheet of the fore-topmast staysail which was the nearest rope to him, and held on as though he was then in imminent danger of “falling overboard accidentally.”