Jordan nodded. "The rest—out with it."
"Well," said Charley dryly, "there was somebody running a boat down way back along the beach. They did it kind of quietly, but we could hear them. 'Pears to me it's 'bout time we were getting out of this."
"Somebody coming down the gully," shouted a man below, and there was a faint patter of running feet in a dusky hollow that wound amidst the rocks behind the house.
Jordan swung round. "Motter has sold us to the Russians, boys," he said. "Still, if there's time yet we'll take him along."
They were back in the room the next moment, but Motter had gone, and when another shout came from outside Jordan swung round again with his face showing very grim.
"He'd have had all my dollars in another minute," he said. "Well, we'll be going."
Charley, however, stopped a moment, and taking down the big lamp swung it round his head, while a great blaze sprang up when he hurled it on the floor.
"I guess it will take them all they know to put that out," he said.
Then they blundered down the stairway, and in another moment were floundering across the beach. It was rough and strewn with boulders, while the boats lay some little distance away, and as they tripped and stumbled a hoarse shout rose out of the darkness. Nobody stopped to answer, and a rifle flashed, while a patter of feet became audible behind them.
"They're tolerably close," said Jordan. "We've got to run, boys."