Bob came off better than his antagonist, for the latter struck his head against the steering wheel, doubled himself up in a ball, then flung out his limbs convulsively and lay silent and still.
“Look after both of them, fellows!” cried Bob. “I’m going after the other one.”
The second of the two men who had been on the deck was showing more wariness than his companion had done. The abrupt disappearance of his comrade from the top of the ladder had filled him with doubts, and when he saw Bob rushing upward, he must have gained the idea that all the others were captured. Yet, be that as it may, he whirled from the conning tower in a panic and leaped off the boat.
When Bob lifted his head clear of the hatch, a sharp report echoed out, and a bullet struck the sloping side of the conning tower and glanced off into the river.
The ruffian was standing on the planks that had formed the old landing. Undeterred by the shot, Bob threw himself out of the tower, gained the rickety wharf at a jump, and raced after the man.
The latter retreated to the bank, turned there, and assayed another shot. A metallic click echoed out, but no report. Again and again the trigger fell uselessly.
With an oath, the fellow hurled the weapon at Bob, faced about, and dashed into the timber.
Bob gave pursuit. Had it not been that Gaines was missing from the boat’s complement, Bob would not have chased the fugitive; but Gaines’ absence made it necessary for the submarine to remain at the landing until he should return, and if this man got away he would probably spread the news of what had happened and cause a detachment of the revolutionists to charge the boat.
Bob, it will be remembered, was in his stocking feet. The ground over which he was running was covered with sharp stones, and before he had gone a hundred yards he realized that he would have to give up the pursuit.