The robbers fell over each other getting out. In a minute all were out, and the Esmeralda lay rocking in the river.
“Turn the motors on—quick!”
Clay was on his feet, with the blood still pouring from the bullet hole in his arm, making suggestions for the guidance of the others. It was well that he was quick to speak.
Before the motors could be brought to use, a storm of bullets was flying at the Rambler.
“Turn off the lights,” said Clay.
Then he fainted from loss of blood and the pain of the wound.
The command was obeyed, the Esmeralda was taken in tow, and the Rambler moved slowly into the stream.
As the Rambler drew up to the Esmeralda and passed her, Buck sprang aboard over the wrecked prow and switched off the lights. All was now in darkness, but the robbers continued to fire as long as the boats were in sight.
Half a mile down the river the lights were switched on again, and Clay’s wound examined. The boy was still unconscious, an artery having been severed.
While the examination was going on a hail was heard from the east shore, and the motor boat checked her speed.