“I shot them in the legs,” said Frank.
His voice trembled. His legs felt weak, his hands numb. It was with an effort he refrained from dropping the revolver. Like his chums, Frank was a crack shot, for Mr. Temple early had accustomed them to the use of rifle and shotgun, and the previous summer in New Mexico Tom Bodine, their cowboy friend, had given all three valuable instructions in revolver shooting. Nevertheless, to take deliberate aim at a human being was unnerving. It was only the realization that the safety of his comrades hung 153 on his aim that had nerved him to the task and steeled his arm.
“Steady, old thing,” said Bob, patting him on the shoulder. Then, turning to Captain Folsom, he added: “Well, captain, where do we go from here? We’ve got all Long Island ahead of us. I expect we had better start traveling.”
“Not at all, Bob,” said Jack, unexpectedly. “If we can only hold these fellows off a few minutes more, they’ll get the surprise of their lives. I raised Lieutenant Summers by radio. He was close offshore by the greatest of good luck. He’s sending a landing party in boats, and I was to meet them at the beach and act as guide.”
CHAPTER XVII
RESCUE ARRIVES
Tom Barnum had disappeared. Now he ran up from the rear of the radio station.
“Quick, Mister Frank, with that revolver,” he said. “They’ve split up an’ the fellows in the woods are trying to work their way around to take us in the rear. I been watchin’ from the back side.”