The oomiak was now within fifty yards.
"Let's give 'em a salute!" exclaimed Kit. "Roll the ball out of the howitzer!"
"Oh! I wouldn't; it may scare 'em," said Raed.
"No, it won't. Where's a match?"
Bang went old brassy out of the stern.
It did startle them, I fancy. Something very much like a feminine screech rose in the oomiak. It was quickly hushed up, though, with no fainting, but any quantity of heh-heh-ing and yeh-yeh-ing from the fat beauties.
"Now give 'em two more from the muskets—two at a time—when they come under the side!" shouted Kit. "Hobbs, you and Don first! Ready!—fire!"
Crack, crack!
"Now Weymouth and Corliss!"
Crack, crack!