With a growl of rage Douglas pulled the trigger of his pistol, firing twice in quick succession, while, close beside him, Terry’s revolver also spoke out, and so close were their foremost assailants that every bullet took effect, four men plunging heavily forward to the ground, almost within arm’s length of the two boys. This circumstance, so far from intimidating the Chilians, seemed but to stimulate their rage, and knives began to flash through the air like so many silver flying-fish, thrown, too, with such force that had one of them but hit its mark it would have closed the recipient’s earthly career on the spot.
“By the Lord Harry!” ejaculated Terry, firing rapidly into the thick of the crowd, “this is getting rather too warm to be pleasant; we shall have fired away all the cartridges in our pistols presently, and they will certainly give us no time to reload. What is to be our next move, Jim?”
Douglas, however, had already been glancing hastily about him, in the endeavour to discover some pathway of escape, and, even as Terry spoke, his eyes lighted upon the door close to which they had been sitting while they were taking their breakfast.
“Edge along toward the right a little, Terry,” he exclaimed; “our only hope of escape is through that door. God grant that it may not be locked!”
Meanwhile O’Meara, availing himself of a momentary pause on the part of their assailants, had contrived to insert a few fresh cartridges in his pistol, and, firing several more shots right into the “brown,” began to edge his way along to the door, in which manoeuvre he was quickly followed by Douglas. Then, shooting out his left hand behind him, he felt for the knob, and turned it, knowing that their lives depended upon whether it was fastened or otherwise. To his inexpressible relief, the handle turned, and the door opened under his touch, while, luckily for the two lads, it opened away from instead of toward them.
Emptying the remaining barrels of their revolvers, the boys at once slipped through, and pushed the door close behind them, just as a further volley of knives came hurtling through the air, to stick quivering in the panelling, while, with a hoarse roar of rage, the Chilians surged forward bent on preventing the escape of the supposed spies. But by the greatest good luck there happened to be a lock and a couple of bolts on the farther side of the door, and these the two lads slipped home in a trice, interposing between themselves and their bloodthirsty foes a barrier which they hoped would gain them a few minutes’ grace.
Once on the right side of the door, they hurriedly reloaded their pistols, and looked round for an exit from the apartment, while the air resounded with the sound of the blows which thundered upon the frail woodwork behind them. Clearly the door would not stand more than a minute or so, and it was necessary to hasten if they were to escape after all. But, look as they might, there seemed to be no means of egress, until Terry suddenly shouted, “That door will be down in a second, Jim. We must get behind this tier of casks; they will afford us a certain amount of shelter, at any rate.”
In a moment the boys had slipped behind the stack of barrels, and there, right in front of them, was the door for which they had been searching.
“Come along, Terry,” exclaimed Douglas; “this way for your life!” And like a flash they darted through the door, finding themselves in a dimly lighted passage, which looked as though it led into the back premises of the café. Just as they entered the passage they heard a crashing and splintering of wood, followed by shouts of rage, and they knew that the frail barrier between themselves and their pursuers was destroyed.
Down the passage they ran at top speed, round a sharp corner at the bottom, and then emerged into a large patio or courtyard. A rapid glance round revealed no exit from the place; and already they could hear their enemies rushing down the passage behind them.