Then, quickly and silently as might be, he started around into the shadow of the island and stepped out on the causeway.
He had been obliged to make some noise, and to show himself very plainly, but his daring work had not aroused the men behind the breastwork.
Every step he now took across the slabs brought him and the girl nearer the shore and safety.
But it was too much to hope for that he should get across the frail bridge entirely unseen and undetected. Once more he was hailed huskily from the bank.
“Giles!” roared the voice that had spoken before; “what the blazes are ye kerryin’ off? All that plunder on the bank is to be toted over here, and not——”
“The girl!” yelled a second voice front the island. “She’s gone. Bascomb!”
A wild oath leaped from the lips of the man who had been yelling at the scout, under belief that he was Giles.
Sping, sping! came the vicious reports of a six-shooter.
The leaden bees buzzed on either side of the scout’s head, and Annie McGowan’s arms clasped frantically about his neck.