“Do you want us to fire at you?”
“That’s immaterial to me.”
The inventor’s cool indifference angered the man, and he turned to his companions and gave them an order.
A volley of pistol and rifle shots followed.
They played a tattoo upon the airship, but she was proof against such weapons, and the bullets did no harm.
“Fools!” said Frank, contemptuously; “they might just as well fling pebbles against a brick wall.”
“G’way from dar now!” roared Pomp, as he dashed out on deck, with the Mexican and Irishman. “G’way, I tele yo’, chilen! D’yo’ want us to plug yo’ full ob lead, huh?”
By way of reply came a second volley.
The bullets merely flattened against the netting or glanced off, for they had not force enough to penetrate.
Protruding the muzzles of their repeating air rifles through the loopholes in the cage, the three now opened fire upon the men in the rowboats.