Part 19 (2/2)

”Say, you! What you do in thata boat? That our boat! Get out, I say to you! We want to come aboard and go on away!”

Gus had heard that voice before. It belonged to one of the Malatesta.

Did they have Tony with them? Were they making a terrible effort to escape in this way from the peninsula, and get to sea again? How then would they secure the hoped for ransom? Or were they merely going to hide the _X-Ray_, expecting to use her if their scheme fell short? Bill had sensed the situation.

”_Your_ boat, is she? You'll find her back at Hawk's Bill where she belongs, and in a little while you're going to find yourself in jail.

Beat it now while the water's fine!”

The oarsman was nothing loath. Either he was not the bravest in the party, or else he had the keenest appreciation of the odds against an exposed position. In a very few minutes the dory was a mere gray wraith on the water, but there it hung. Evidently the rower was overruled by others less cautious, or of the certain conviction that at the distance the yacht was a better mark than a rowboat.

Bill had the motor going in a jiffy. Gus was at the wheel, crouching.

Throwing in the reverse clutch he sent the boat off the sands. Then, letting Bill hold her steady, dropped the _Stella's_ sails, cast her loose at the end of a hauser for a tow rope, paid it out from the stern and went back to the wheel.

He was about to swing round and head back into the narrow channel free from sand bars, which he could discern by the rougher water, when bullets began to come from the dory. They were aimed at the wheel and whether sent low or not, the trajectory, even from a high-powered gun, would pull them down to the danger level. One struck the mast directly in front of him. One hit the deck and glanced singing. The music from another flattened bullet was stopped by the water beyond.

Gus wanted desperately to get behind something, for this firing might mean death or wounding at any moment. But he held on, hoping shortly to get out of range. Bill, at the rear hatch, called to Gus to set her and come below, and Gus called back that they'd be aground again in a minute if he did. Then a brave deed was done.

The girl, perhaps as fully aware of the danger as the boys, leaped into the cabin, came out with two chairs and some cus.h.i.+ons, erected a barricade alongside of Gus and said to him:

”I want to get back and we can't stop, but most of all I want you to be safe.”

Then she gave a sudden cry and staggered into the cabin. Gus called Bill, who limped across quickly. The shots continued, and one hit the chairs. Gus wondered where it would have hit him. Presently they were too far away for the shots to reach them, for they had entered the narrow bay.

CHAPTER XXVIII

ANOTHER SCHEME

Bill was not cut out for a nurse. His sympathies were large, but his fingers, deft at managing fine mechanical apparatus, were all thumbs when it came to anything even remotely concerned with human anatomy. The girl had been hit in the shoulder, undoubtedly a mere flesh wound, and the bleeding must be stopped. Lucy was very pale, but there was never a tear, nor the least indication of her fainting. She merely held her arm down and watched, with most rueful countenance, the blood dripping from her finger tips upon the polished floor.

”I'll get Gus,” said Bill, almost ready to weep at the sight the girl presented. She had torn her dress from her shoulder and a seared gash was disclosed which she could not well observe.

Gus pointed out the course to Bill, then went into the cabin. In a minute or less he had searched and obtained clean rags, torn strips from them, found a nearly exhausted bottle of vaseline, coated the rag with it and, with a deftness almost worthy of a surgeon, washed the wound with a quick sopping of gasoline. Then as more blood was flowing, he bound up the shoulder and arm so that the flow stopped and by its coagulation germs were excluded. Whereupon Lucy sought a couch where she lay, exhausted, and with a decided desire to cry, while Gus went back to the wheel.

”You shall hear from father and mother and all of us. They will be here early and father must see you.” This was the very earnest declaration of the elder Waring sister, a young woman of twenty-five or more, ”I cannot alone express our thanks, our deep grat.i.tude----”

”To use a rather slangy expression--please 'forget it,'” said Bill, laughing.

Lucy, supported by another older sister, could only thank the boys with her pretty eyes. She did make so bold as to hold the hand of poor Gus until he turned a fiery red. Blus.h.i.+ng herself, even through her pallor, she still persisted in trying to show her appreciation and admiration.

Bill had to grab and pull his stammering chum away.

The run back in the _Stella_ was made in rapid time to her owner's slip.

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