“More treachery, or looks that way. Fix it up quick, Strong.”
Suddenly the dark trees along the shore burst into crackling flame. A deadly rifle fire poured from them. There was no doubt now as to the revolutionaries’ whereabouts.
“They’ve waked up at last!” exclaimed Ned, as having adjusted the broken line he leaped lightly forward once more.
At the same instant Stanley gave a slight groan, and jerked his hand from the wheel as if it had been red hot.
“Winged!” he exclaimed briefly, holding up a limp wrist.
Ned shoved him aside and seized the spokes. Already the wheel had dropped over, allowing the launch to drift nearer to the deadly point. Bullets fell about them like rain now. The air was full of their screaming sounds. They could hear the patter-patter as the leaden hail ricochetted over the water. The launch was struck in half a dozen places, but luckily not below the water line.
“Can you make it, Strong?”
It was Stark’s voice, as he leaned over the boy.
“I think so, sir. You’d better lie down. It’s getting pretty hot here.”