Under Fire For Servia

by James Fiske

He felt the main thing that favored him was that Hallo was at least as badly frightened as he was himself. And that, after all, stood to reason. The very fact that the man was here at all seemed to Dick proof that he knew the character of this place, and that he was here as a spy. Then he would naturally be startled by a sudden sound, for he would think that it betokened the return of one of the Servian spies who used this as a hiding place and refuge.

"He would know, of course," Dick thought, "that they wouldn't hesitate any more over shooting him than if he were a mad dog. They couldn't, because he isn't threatening only their safety by being here, but their whole plan. And men who are brave enough to be spies in time of war aren't thinking of themselves at all, but of their country."

This was comforting reasoning for Dick, because it made it vastly improbable that Hallo would come out to look for him. He would be concerned with the problem of escaping himself; he would not think of looking for anyone else, but of preventing someone who was looking for him from finding him. So it seemed likely to Dick that he would escape any sort of personal encounter with Hallo, and he was glad of that. He had the same feeling that Stepan had expressed to Milikoff, although, of course, he knew nothing of that talk, nor of how Hallo had happened to come to this place. It seemed to him that Hallo would be worth more to the Servians alive than dead, and it was certain that the only chance for the success of the mission that had brought him from New York to Semlin would be gone if anything happened to Hallo.

From his position, crouched down in the bottom of the boat, Dick could see the closet door. And, as it began to move again, after five nerve racking minutes, Dick clutched his revolver, feeling that it was a pretty good thing to have as an ally, even if it was so unlikely that he would have occasion to use it. His fear had passed away altogether by this time, and a bold plan was beginning to come into his mind. But its execution depended upon Hallo and what that swindler might do next.

For just a second, as Hallo came out into the boathouse, Dick thought of starting up suddenly, covering him with a revolver, and forcing him to surrender. But he decided against that. Mike Hallo, as he knew, was not without a certain crude sort of physical courage. If he was armed—as it was practically certain that he was—he might be able to put up a good struggle. And, though Dick was no longer afraid for himself, he felt that it would involve too great a risk of letting the man get clear away if he followed his impulse.

So he kept perfectly still, instead, while Hallo came out and finally stood in the middle of the part of the boathouse that had a floor. He leaned forward, like a bird dog when it is in doubt, and seemed to be sniffing the air, though Dick knew that he was really only listening with concentrated attention. He was listening, not for a real noise, but for those almost inevitable sounds that the quietest person must make. It seemed extraordinary to Dick that Mike could not hear his breathing, or the beating of his heart, which sounded so abnormally loud to him. But hear them Mike did not, evidently, for after a moment he relaxed and heaved a sigh of relief.

"I'm getting jumpy," he said to himself, aloud, in English. "I guess that wasn't anything I heard before. Just a board creaking, maybe!"

Dick grinned and maintained his silence. And then Hallo, after walking about for half a minute, looked toward the boat.

"If only I knew how to run that!" he said, still aloud.

But, fortunately for Dick, and for Servia, as it was to turn out, he knew nothing of the intricate mechanism of the boat, and so he did not even come over to the water's edge for a closer inspection. Instead, he made for the door, flung it open, and strode out as it banged to behind him.