“Jujutsu!” exclaimed the ensign, astounded at the science the untutored savage was showing. “Look! He’s using jujutsu and trying to break Pretzel’s arm!”
“Save the arm, then!” snorted Dick. “Run that spear through the swab.”
Glennie did not impale the savage on the point of the spear, but he used the handle, and gave the arm that was bending Carl’s a stout thump. A gasp escaped the savage’s lips, and his arm dropped away as though paralyzed. Carl rolled over on top and got his fingers about his antagonist’s throat.
“Gif me der rope!” he cried. “Misder Glennie, schust put a leedle piece oof der rope aboudt der feller’s handts!”
Dick Ferral was not paying much attention to the fight Carl and Glennie were having. They were two to one, and there could not be much doubt as to the result of the contest. Dick’s worry was reserved for Bob, for it seemed as though the savage in the water was bending every effort to drag Bob under and drown both of them.
The other savage in the dugout was paddling like mad in an effort to get alongside the combatants. It had taken some time and space for the submarine to turn about on her course, and Dick was now driving her straight for the two in the water.
So far as Dick could see, both Bob and the savage were almost at the last gasp. How they ever kept afloat at all was a mystery.
As the boat shot in between the dugout and the pair in the water, the third savage could have thrown his spear to good effect—if he had had it. But he did not have it, and all he could do was to paddle off and furtively await the issue.
The submarine glided alongside Bob and the Indian, and Dick immediately made a discovery that took his breath.