“No; it’s too dangerous. I’ll go alone.”
“Den we guard you from heah wif our rifles,” said Pomp.
“Do so, by all means.”
Frank got out a wire ladder and carried it to the deck, where he fastened one end and let the other end down.
He then descended.
When half-way down the ladder he heard volley after volley of rifle shots coming from shore, and saw the crew shooting at him from behind trees and rocks.
Scores of bullets hit the daring fellow, and hundreds whistled and hummed around him like a swarm of bees.
“Fire at them, boys!” he cried.
His friends promptly carried out his order, and an occasional yell of pain coming from the bushes told that their shots were not all wasted.
Moreover, the firing at Frank diminished.