“Shut the other one up first,” came the order.
“Say, what have we done to you fellows?” Jim demanded.
“If you don’t know, we ain’t taking time to enlighten you, see,” the big fellow snarled. Their guns were raised deliberately, and although Jim thought of running, he was sure it would not help matters. He faced the two men and his fists clenched.
“You are a pair of cowards,” he taunted them. “Go on and shoot.”
“Blast you, I will.” The gun was pressed close to his chest and the boy saw the man’s fingers grip over the trigger. He held his breath for the explosion, but none came. There was an odd little click repeated four times, then the fellow stared at the weapon. In a second it flashed on Jim’s mind that the gun must be empty. He gave a short laugh, jumped forward so hard that he knocked the fellow on his back, his head struck the rock and he lay still, but as he fell his gun flew from his hand, struck the stone wall, and there was a violent explosion, followed by a shriek from his companion who seemed to have found his own weapon equally useless. He dropped in a heap, blood spurting from his side and arm. The turn of events were so startling that Jim could only stand staring in wonder, then his eyes fell on Bob and Carlos, who had been startled into silence.
“I’ll get you loose and you can help me with Buddy,” Austin said mechanically. He cut the rope that bound De Castro, and the two turned their attention to Caldwell, who moaned slightly, and moved his arm.
“He’s not dead,” Jim shouted.
“No. Let me help him.” The voice was calm, and a tall man stooped over the prostrated young fellow. Jim watched anxiously and a moment later Bob was being raised to his feet. “Feel better?”
“Sure—I feel all right—I say, Corso, how in the name of perforated parachutes did you get here,” the boy bellowed.
“We found a way,” the man laughed.