Part 16 (2/2)
”Humph!” said Johnny.
”Hisch!” breathed Hanada.
”Well, all I have to say,” observed Johnny presently, ”is that if the old Chicago River has that fellow, he'll be cast ash.o.r.e. The good old Chicago doesn't a.s.sociate with any such.”
They stood there leaning on the wooden railing debating their next move, when a shot rang out. Instantly they dropped to the floor of the bridge.
A bullet whizzed over their heads, then another and another. After that silence.
”Get you?” whispered Johnny.
”No. You?”
”Nope.”
Then a long finger of light came feeling its way along the murky waters to rest on the bridge.
With a sigh of relief, Johnny saw that it came from a police-boat down stream. The light felt its way back and forth, back and forth across the river, then up to the bridge and across that. It came to rest as it glared into their eyes. It blinked one, two, three times, then went out.
”I'm glad they didn't hold it on us,” breathed Johnny. ”In that light anybody that wanted to could get a bead on us.”
Hearing heavy, hurrying footsteps approaching, they stood up well back against the iron braces.
”Police!” whispered Johnny.
”You fellows shoot?” demanded one of the policemen as they came up and halted before the two boys.
”Nope,” Johnny answered.
”No stallin' now.”
”Search us,” Johnny suggested. ”The shots were fired at us, though where from, blessed if I know. Came right out of s.p.a.ce. We'd just searched the bridge from end to end. Not a soul on it.”
”What'd y' search it fer?”
”A man.”
”W'at man?”
”That's it,” Johnny evaded. ”We wanted to know who he was.”
The policemen conversed with one another in low tones for a moment.
”One of the bullets struck a cross-arm; I heard it,” suggested Johnny.
”You can look at that if it'll be any comfort to you.”
The policeman grunted, then following Johnny's flashlight, examined the spot where the bullet had flaked the paint from the bridge iron.
”Hurum!” he grumbled. ”That's queer. Bullet slid straight up the iron when it struck. Ordinarily that'd mean she was shot square against it from below and straight ahead, but that can't be, fer that brings her comin' direct out of the river, which ain't human, nor possible. There wasn't a boat nor a barge nor even a plank on the river when the searchlight flashed from the gray prowler; was there, Mike?”
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