His first concern was for the boys, and he raced over a path, noting as he ran that the firing of the battle was coming from the land ridge on the west of the cove! That would mean that Hegarty had sent an overland party to draw attention from a main attack elsewhere! The fleet-footed G-man did not know that as he dashed down one path towards the waiting room he passed within ten feet of the hidden boys, who had been crawling forward to find their arrows.
He reached the entrance to the waiting room tunnel, fumbled for a second for the release catch, then raced down the steps and the tunnel towards the spot where the boys should still be in the company of Butch! He entered the waiting room to stumble headlong over the prostrate figure of Butch! One glance at the man’s bonds told the story, and the elated G-man raced back again through the tunnel, disregarding the muffled groans from the unfortunate Butch.
Now where would the boys be? Mr. Sandborn did not know, but he’d have to look about for them. He became now a silent shadow slinking swiftly about from one spot of the field of action to another, examining tunnel entrances, bushes, the boat-house, and the launches for the boys.
Marzonij meanwhile had raced out of the channel to meet the oncoming Sea Hawk. He had been taken aboard, reported his trip to Hegarty, and confirmed the fact of the beginning of the Big Fight, then taken his place at a gun as the big yacht moved into the channel to the cove. The Malcon had come up the sea side, having dropped her landing crew, and the Canton had come round from the bay side around the snout.
The big yacht tore into the cove first, opening fire as she came, and the others followed at short distances behind.
Mr. Sandborn, trapped between the fires of both the yachts and the machine gun crews on the ridges, made haste to get out of his present position as quickly as possible. As he did so he came face to face with Dago. Dago had just come round a flower bush in the dark, gun in hand, and the men recognized each other at once. Dago’s gun muzzle bore down as Mr. Sandborn’s right hand brought up the automatic he carried. As the G-man’s trigger finger squeezed, he contrived to slip to his knees!
The blast of Dago’s submachine gun seemed almost to lift the G-man’s hat from his head, but it was high and clear! Mr. Sandborn’s shot hit the gangster in the fingers, and, yelling with pain, Dago turned and bolted.
Mr. Sandborn gave chase, and Dago darted along the cove trail towards a certain gun nest! As the swarthy fellow tore along he suddenly leaped off the ground with a scream of pain, and fell in a sprawling, clawing heap! Mr. Sandborn was upon him in an instant, clipping him sharply on the head with the muzzle of his automatic. The big mobster now senseless, the G-man tied him securely with torn strips of clothing, and left him gagged and helpless in the bushes. He’d be found when needed, Mr. Sandborn suspected!
“Dad!” came a loud outcry of a youthful voice.
The G-man darted in the direction of the voice and was standing in deep bushes grasping his son with strong, glad hands a moment later.