Part 52 (1/2)

Wilson had been examining the revolver and belt they had taken from the prisoner, and which he had brought with him. ”Fourteen in the two pistols and nearly sixty in the two belts,” he said.

”We ought to be able to put up all kinds of a fight,” Alex declared confidently. ”That is, unless they--”

He broke off, and all leaned forward, peering down into the gloom, and listening. From a little to the left rose the clatter of a pebble. Wilson stretched himself on his face, and bent over, one of his pistols extended. Barely breathing, they waited, and again came a faint clatter as of loosened earth, nearer.

”Don't let him get too close,” Alex whispered.

There came the sound of something snapping, a smothered exclamation, and instantly Wilson fired. There was a shrill cry, and the crash of something rolling downward. At the same moment from below came a cras.h.i.+ng volley of shots, and bullets snarled upward by them like a swarm of bees.

The boys shrank back flat, then leaned over and returned two quick volleys.

Another cry indicated that one of their bullets had found a mark, and following a scattering return volley from the darkness there were sounds of a hurried scuttling for cover.

”Anyone touched?” Jack asked.

”I think I lost a little hair,” said Wilson quietly.

”Me too,” said Alex. ”But a miss is as good as a mile, you know. And we have the advantage so far.”

”s.h.!.+” warned Jack. In the silence came the sound of running footsteps farther up the gully, followed by a continuous rattle of falling stones.

”They're making a rush up another path. Quick, and stop them!” exclaimed Wilson, starting to his feet.

”Hold on,” Alex interrupted as they reached the crest of the slope.

”Perhaps it's a ruse to get us away, so they can start the fire. You two run and chase them down, and I'll stay and watch here. If you need help, shout.”

Wilson and Jack sprang away along the brink of the ravine. A hundred yards distant the sounds of men ascending rose from directly beneath them. Without pause they fired. Cries of rage followed, and as the boys dropped to the ground a dozen bullets whined over them. Promptly Wilson replied with the entire seven shots from one of his pistols, there was a crash as of someone falling, then a general scrambling as the entire party apparently tumbled precipitately down the steep slope. Rising to their feet, the boys fired several more shots, and hastened back toward Alex.

As they neared him the crash of his rifle told he had guessed rightly that another attempt would be made to light the fire.

”Quick!” he said, slamming the loading mechanism. ”They're sticking to it!”

Wilson and Jack saw several twinkling flames, and the roar of Alex's next shot was followed by the crash of their own weapons. A cry of agony followed, and one of the lights disappeared. Another faltered, and also went out.

Alex once more brought up his rifle, took careful aim; the jet of flame leaped from the muzzle, and with a shout the boys saw the last spot of light describe an arc in the air, and go out.

An angry howl followed, then a continuous volley from several different points. The spirit of fight had taken full possession of the three lads on the brink of the ravine, however, and lying close, they gave back shot for shot, quickly but steadily. Finally a lull came, and Alex rose exultingly on an elbow and shouted below, ”Come on, you cowards! Come--”

From behind one of the bridge pillars leaped a flame, and with a sharp intake of breath Alex slipped sideways. But as Wilson and Jack sprang to his side he again rose. ”It's nothing,” he declared. ”Just a graze inside the arm.”

The quiet continuing, the others insisted on removing Alex's coat, and feeling, found the s.h.i.+rt-sleeve wet. ”Tie a handkerchief round it,” Alex directed. ”There. That's all right.

”That's what I get for allowing myself to be carried away, isn't it?” he added as Wilson and Jack helped him into his coat. ”I didn't realize how--”

All three s.n.a.t.c.hed up their weapons and spun about.

A tall stooped figure was standing within a few feet of them.

”Surrender!” cried Wilson. ”_Quick, or I'll--_”

”It me, Little Hawk,” said a quiet voice. ”Why shoot?”