There was an explosion of oaths. Some one went back to the woods, came back with something, struck a match, and instantly there was a flare of light. He had stuck the match into a turpentine cup half full of gum, and it burned with the fierce flare of a torch, rolling black smoke and casting a red glow on the woods and the three sinister figures that fronted young Power.
Lockwood stepped farther back behind the building. He could not come near enough now to hear ordinary talk, but he could at any rate see. The four men had their heads together, talking rapidly. He saw Jackson gesticulate defiance. The group surged apart. Tensely ready, Lockwood drew his automatic, and then—he did not know how it happened—half a dozen shots seemed to crash at once.
Jackson jumped back, his hand spouting flashes. Some one knocked over the turpentine cup. Darkness fell, except for the burning streams of liquid gum that flowed over the sand. Lockwood leaped out of his ambush. As he did so, swift as machine-gun fire, four shots flashed from the edge of the woods. In the flashes he saw Hanna’s face plainly behind the pistol. Jackson spun round and dropped. He struggled to get up, tumbled again and lay still.
Lockwood had instantly turned his own pistol on the ambushed murderer, now invisible. He fired three—four times into the darkness where he had seen Hanna’s face, running forward as he fired, into the light of the gun that smoked and flamed on the ground. He had forgotten the river men for a moment, till he heard a roar of amazement and fury from Blue Bob.
The next moment the darkness was criss-crossed by gun flashes, springing from shadowy hands. Lockwood found himself firing wildly at those leaping flames. Something knocked the pistol out of his grasp with a shock that almost paralyzed his arm. At the same instant there was a fierce burn on the top of his shoulder.
He dropped to his knees, confused and stunned. He groped dimly with his left hand for the pistol. A clump of weeds caught from the creeping fire and flared suddenly high. In the swift illumination he saw Jackson’s body lying still with outflung arms, the face unrecognizable with blood. He saw the river pirates ten yards back, and they saw him. There was a simultaneous crash of pistol shots. Sand flew into his face. He made a dive back toward the warehouse, and the brief blaze of the weeds went out.
Lockwood dodged around to the rear of the building in the pitch dark. He heard Bob shouting to relight the gum cup; and then the loose ground caved under his feet, and he plunged unexpectedly. Water went over him. The swift inshore eddy dragged him out, rolling him over and over. Half blinded and dazed, he saw a great flare of light arising on the shore; the torch had been lighted again. Instinctively he ducked under, holding his breath. Coming up, the bulk of the warehouse shut off the light. He was getting his wits back now, and he struck out, aiding the swift current with his arms and legs.
His right arm was still numbed, however, and of little use. His wet clothing weighted him heavily. Desperately anxious to get out of pistol range of shore, he swam with all his strength, and then something went over him in the dark, crushing him down, scratching his face.
He fought his way up through a tangle of wet twigs, clutched a large branch, and found himself clinging to the branchy top of a dead tree that was drifting fast down the stream. Dimly distinguishing its outline, he worked himself along to the trunk, got his head and shoulders on it, and rested.
He heard the deep, distant bellow of the river steamer again. On the shore, now a hundred yards away, he saw a group of men bending over something on the earth, in the lurid glare of the gum torch. He could not see whether Hanna was among them; he thought not.