“We’ve had one experience with the rebel army, Dick,” said Bob, “and it was far from pleasant. Let’s not repeat the experience. Climb for the deck, and be——”
Events were happening for the young motorist and his chums that day! They were coming like the rapid reports of a Gatling gun, and hardly was one issue met and vanquished before another was raised.
Dick and Clackett were on their way up the ladder when a rattle of musketry reached the ears of those in the submarine. It came from the direction of the bank, and was followed by loud cries and a tremendous thrashing among the bushes.
“Hurry!” cried Bob. “Don Carlos must have met a detachment of Pitou’s army and have headed them this way! We can’t wait any longer for Gaines! Up with you and cut the cable!”
Clackett stepped off the ladder to make room for Bob, who sprang to follow Dick aloft.
When Dick reached the deck, he gave a shout of astonishment. “Hurry up!” he called.
When Bob was able to see what was going on, he was as greatly surprised as Dick had been.
Coming down the bank, and traveling as fast as his long legs could carry him, was Gaines. He was clad only in shirt and trousers, and his bare feet were bleeding from their contact with the sharp stones. Unmindful of this trying discomfort, he rushed down the bank with flying leaps, while bushes crackled behind him and little wreaths of smoke rose upward, marking the discharge of firearms.
Bob rushed along the deck and caught the hatchet out of his chum’s hand.