“Quick, Mart!” I shouted up the shattered stairway. “We can get through the hollow. Ruth and Drake are on their way to the break we came through. Hurry!”
“All right. Just a minute,” he called.
I heard him empty his magazine with almost machine-gun quickness. There was a short pause, and down the broken steps he leaped, gray eyes blazing.
“The pony?” He ran beside me toward the portal. “All my ammunition is on him.”
“Chiu-Ming's taking care of that,” I gasped.
We darted out of the gateway. A good five hundred yards away were Ruth and Drake, running straight to the green tunnel's mouth. Between them and us was Chiu-Ming urging on the pony.
As we sped after him I looked back. The horsemen had recovered, were now a scant half-mile from where the road swept past the fortress. I saw that with their swords the horsemen bore great bows. A little cloud of arrows sparkled from them; fell far short.
“Don't look back,” grunted Ventnor. “Stretch yourself, Walter. There's a surprise coming. Hope to God I judged the time right.”
We turned off the ruined way; raced over the sward.
“If it looks as though—we can't make it,” he panted, “YOU beat it after the rest. I'll try to hold 'em until you get into the tunnel. Never do for 'em to get Ruth.”