“The galoots are coming, pard!” hissed Brad, as he seized the oar.
The bravos were coming. Just as Dick freed the line from the iron ring, several of them hastened out onto the steps.
The Texan gave a great thrust with the oar, pushing the gondola away.
The voice of Nicola Mullura shouted to them, commanding them to stop.
“We’re in a hurry,” retorted Dick. “Our time is very valuable. We can’t stop just now.”
“Not even a little minute,” said Brad, as he continued to use the oar with as much skill as he could command.
“Look out, Brad!” shouted Dick, warningly, at the same time dropping quickly.
He had seen Mullura making a sweeping movement with his right arm.
Dick dropped barely in time, for through the air whizzed a knife, cast with great precision, and with such force that it clanged against the wall of the opposite house, dropping back with a splash into the water.
“A miss is as good as a mile,” said Merriwell. “But look out for yourself, Brad. Another may follow.”