LITMIR.BIZ

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to show. A cry from Mary showed that she had perceived it.

      These things take long in the telling, for at the crucial moments of life and death time appears suspended to the brain’s perception and what may pass in an instant will require long to set down upon paper.

      Groot was at the helm, and I perceived that he had it well in hand. I sat down, laid aside my weapon, and unbuckled my belt. I made shift to get it about my neck, and so improvised a sling which would carry my useless arm. Mary came hastily to help me and—so quickly had the affair passed—it was now Wan Shih opened fire. I think that three minutes might cover the action from the time of the first blow.

      The other boat was fifty feet behind us and not gaining perceptibly; the wind was coming with that gathering gusto which brings rain, and all the world had turned to darkness. Wan Shih and his gang were not exposing themselves more than they had to, but rifles began to crack and it was plain their craft had carried concealed arms.

      As Mary stumbled toward me, I caught her arm and pressed her back.

      “Down!” I cried at her. “I’m all right, girl. You, Rosoff! Stand up. Stand up, you dog, or I’ll drill you through the foot!”

      I caught up my pistol. At that, Rosoff came to his knees, clutched the gunnel with his good hand and rose shakily to his feet. He saw that I meant business. When he came into sight. Wan Shih ceased firing.

      “Hurt, Groot?” I sang out.

      Alan shook his head. His glasses had gone in the excitement.

      “Can’t see well,” his voice floated down the wind to us. “But I can hold her.”

      I looked at Rosoff.

      “You try to jump, and I’ll get you!” I said, holding my gun on him. “Mary, don’t get between us—that’s right. We’re safe enough now. We can outrun them to the river, at least. Where’s that gun I gave you?”

      She pushed it at me. I emptied my own weapon at the other boat, and got the helmsman. She yawed for a moment, then came on again. I dared fire no more, since we were short of cartridges, and Rosoff’s gun lay in the stern near Alan.

      Rosoff heard the click when my gun emptied, and gathered himself. That man was no coward, whatever else he was! He was in the act of jumping when I caught up the pistol Mary shoved forward, and let him have it in the right arm. He whirled around, lost his balance, and came down.

      “Up!” I shouted at him. Mary had covered her eyes. “Up, or you’ll catch it in the foot!”

      Cursing, the baron rose. Just in time too, for Wan Shih had opened fire again and a bullet tore through the sail above my head. This settled matters, for Rosoff dared try no more tricks. He stood there cursing at me like a madman, both arms useless, but serving us as a shield against pursuing fire.

      “How’s everything ahead?” I asked Mary. “I can’t take my eyes off our friend here.”

      She rose, and struggled to a position beside me. The first drops of rain were sweeping down, and the wind was beginning to howl. Wan Shih was maintaining his position, both of us diving directly before the wind.

      “It’s hard to see,” responded Mary, peering ahead. “We’re out in the centre—”

      “Any bridges that you know of?”

      “There are none below, I’m certain. We came down as far as the Min River one day with Wan Shih.”

      “Then we’re all to the good,” I returned, and drew a breath of relief. “Can your uncle see without his glasses?”

      “Not well, no. But well enough to keep us from running into shore.”

      I doubted it, for the storm-darkness was pretty murky. I doubted it still more a couple of minutes later, when the rain began to come down in driving sheets that blotted out the shores from view. Still, I could do nothing. With the excitement of action over, the pain was beginning to bear in upon me, bringing weakness with it.

      Looking at Mary, I chuckled. We were all soaked to the skin, of course.

      “It’s a real test, isn’t it?” I asked cheerfully.

      “What?” She looked at me.

      “Why, rain! I never before saw a girl who could sit in a driving rain and look prettier than ever!”

      A flush crept up into her dripping cheeks and then a smile into her eyes.

      “You haven’t red hair for nothing, have you?” she retorted. “May I tie up your shoulder?”

      “You may not—just yet. But I wish you’d retrieve that swagger stick of mine; it’s kicking around in the bottom there—”

      She got the swagger stick safely, and I stuck it into my hip pocket, under my coat, to brace up my backbone. I was beginning to need stiffening. But Rosoff was worse off than I, for the poor devil was reeling on his feet, and despite the anguish was clinging with his shattered hand to the gunnel.

      And behind us the other boat still came on, a little closer if anything.

      “Some boats ahead!” cried out Mary suddenly. “At anchor!”

      “’Ware boats!” I yelled at Groot. He leaned forward, squinted fearfully, and then nodded. We were going at a pretty good clip by this time, and I was beginning to wonder how long the mast and sail would stand the strain.

      “We’re almost at the mouth of the river!” exclaimed Mary. The rain came in swooping gusts, thicker than ever. “I remember those boats were anchored there when we came before.”

      “Then we’re safe,” I returned, and added to myself: “None too soon, either! If I go out before the baron, I’ll make sure of him first!”

      I did not need to bother, for at this instant Rosoff swayed, and then went down in a heap and lay quiet. Pain and loss of blood had put him under. There was no danger now, for the rain was so thick that even Wan Shih’s boat was indistinct.

      Suddenly Mary swayed upright. A frightful cry burst from her lips. At the same instant, I saw Groot put the tiller hard down, straining at it with all the power of his body—too late! Something struck the mast, and down she came; I saw the yard catch Groot and knock him overboard like a fly, before the sail dragged over me and sent me sprawling.

      CHAPTER VIII

      In the Net

      If you’re ever been upcountry in China, where there are no game laws, you know how those fishing craft are built. A thirty-foot craft will have what looks like a pronged bowsprit—two great bamboo poles fifty feet long, jutting up from the bows in a great Y, and curving again to the water, far apart at the outer ends. Between these poles are slung the nets.

      Alan Groot had seen the bunch of boats herded side by side, and had steered to clear them, not by too great a margin lest we strike a shoal. What we had not seen, however, were those damnable bamboos sticking out like huge spider legs. We went slap into them, the mast was knocked out of us, and the springy bamboos brought us to a cradled halt.

      I was trying to get out from under that infernal matting sail, and to find my pistol, when there came an exultant yelling from Wan Shin’s boat, and then a tremendous crash as they sailed bang into us. That crash settled me. It flung me across the boat, I brought up against my wounded shoulder, and the last thing I heard was the crack of a gun.

      When I came to myself, things were different again. We were on solid ground.

      Groot, looking considerably the worse for wear, was holding me while Mary Fisher bound up my shoulder. They had cut away half my coat, which made me rather a sight. However, Mary pinned on the sleeve after lashing my arm to my side. My feet were bound. So, I perceived, were those of Alan Groot.

      The shock of the two craft slamming into them had dislodged the fishing boats from their crude moorings, and they were strewn along the shore, where Wan Shih’s men were drawing them up stern first for

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