Next instant the flash of his pocket-lamp illumined the dark boat
below him. A volley of curses greeted this untoward action! A
revolver barked from the hand of a big man in the stern. Young
Van Cleft lay face downward in the boat, neatly gagged and bound.
As the light still flickered over the surprised oarsmen, an
answering shot evidenced better aim. The man in the back of the
bobbing vessel groaned as he fell forward upon the prostrate body
of the pinioned millionaire. One oarsman disappeared over the
side of the boat, to glide into the unfathomable darkness, with
skilful strokes.
"Hold still! I'll kill the first man who makes a move!"
As Shirley's voice rang out, Cleary with his assistants was
dashing across the open space to the end of the dock.
"Shove out that boat-hook and hold onto the dock!" was the
additional order, accompanied by a punctuation mark in the form
of another bullet which splintered the gunwale of the boat.
Looking as they were, into the dazzling eye of the bulb light,
the men were uncertain of the number of their assailants:
surrender was natural.
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