“We got them quite easily,” Jim said, his voice shaking. “The first rock blocked the entrance, and they’re there yet. We sent down all the rocks, and one fell on one of the two guards they left; the other managed to wing Wally before he ran.”
O’Neill started.
“Is he hurt?”
“Only my arm,” said Wally. “It’s quite all right—don’t you worry. It wasn’t much to pay for the haul we got—thanks to you.” The boyish face twitched, and he put out his hand and took O’Neill’s in its grip.
“Go on, please,” Sir John begged.
“The other chap ran,” Jim said: “of course his idea was to get the boat back to the submarine. The brute got a start of us while we were making sure the others were blocked in securely.”
“Have you put a guard there?” O’Neill interrupted, anxiously. “They might break out.”
“Half a dozen of my men,” Aylwin said, quickly. “It’s all right, old chap.”
“We saw him begin to fire at you, and we did our best,” said Jim, with a groan. “We didn’t dare fire, for fear of hitting you, until we were close. Then we got him—but——” His strained voice ceased.
“You needn’t worry—his mate had fixed me first,” said O’Neill, serenely. “It was great luck I had, to be able to get to the boat at all: your man didn’t matter.” He laughed happily. “This makes up for having lived. Tell me your part of it, Bob.”