Part 32 (1/2)

”A friend,” replied the man in answer to the challenge.

”Advance and give your name,” persisted the sentry.

”Lieutenant Cantor of the '_Long Island_.'”

At hearing that name, from one in civilian dress, Dave stepped forward.

”You've been halted by a man from your own s.h.i.+p, sir,” nodded Darrin, on getting close enough to see that the man really was Cantor.

”Hullo,” was Trent's greeting, as he stepped outside. ”On duty, Cantor?”

”Not official duty,” replied the other lieutenant.

”You are authorized to be ash.o.r.e, of course?” continued Trent, surveying his brother officer, keenly, for, at such a time, it was strange to see a naval officer ash.o.r.e in anything but uniform.

”I have proper authority for being ash.o.r.e,” Cantor nodded.

”That is all, then,” said Lieutenant Trent. ”You may proceed, of course, but you are going to be halted and held up by every sentry who sees you. You would get through the town much more easily in uniform.”

”I suppose so,” nodded Cantor, and pa.s.sed on.

Close at hand two revolver shots rang out.

”Ensign Darrin,” Trent ordered, ”take a man with you and investigate that firing. Locate it, if possible, and if any Mexican attempts to fire again, try to bring him in-----dead!”

”You will come with me,” ordered Dave, turning to c.o.xswain Riley.

That petty officer hastily filling his magazine, followed Darrin, who drew his own revolver.

Hardly had officer and man turned the corner when a pistol flesh came from the top of a house nearly at the next corner.

The bullet did not pa.s.s near enough for them to hear it. Plainly the shot had been fired at some one else.

”Keep close to the buildings,” ordered Dave, leading the way toward the sniper. ”I don't want that fellow to see us until we're right under him and ready to get him.”

Noiselessly they went up the street. It would be impossible for the sniper to see them unless he bent out over the edge of the roof from which he was firing.

While they were advancing another shot was fired from the same roof.

Watching the direction of the flash, Darrin was able to guess the direction of the man or men at whom the Mexican was firing.

”Some of our sharpshooters must still be posted on roofs,” Dave whispered over his shoulder to Riley.

”I know one man who won't be doing much more on a roof, if I can get a sight of him for three seconds,” gruffly answered Riley.

Then they stopped in front of the house in question.

”You slip across to the doorway opposite, and watch for your man,”

whispered Darrin. ”I'll remain here and get any one who may attempt to run out of the house after you open fire.”