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Updated: May 9, 2025
Again the lieutenant depressed his key. From their altitude of four thousand feet, they could see the Denver. From its forward turret came a puff of smoke. There were a few moments of pause and then a cloud of black rose from the plain below them, half a mile from the factory. McCready reported the position of the burst to the ship.
The bearded man dropped into a chair while his companion sat at the table and opened a notebook. "Stand up!" barked the Russian sternly. Carnes and McCready rose to their feet but Dr. Bird remained stretched out on a bed. "What for?" he demanded languidly. The Russian bristled with rage.
She had grown to love them, to admire their big rough manhood and loyal hearts, before he had brought her among them; and suddenly she smiled at McCready, struggling to overcome that thrill of fear and dislike. "He doesn't like you," she laughed at him softly. "Won't you make friends with him?" She drew Kazan toward him, with Thorpe holding the end of the chain.
We are sure to be captured and our best chance is to have the plane near us. They'll probably patch it up and if we get a chance to escape later, it may be a lifesaver. At any rate, we've lost for the present." McCready turned the plane again to the west. The truck halted at their new maneuver. As the plane passed over, it turned and again followed them. The ground was approaching rapidly.
But it was not physical pain that gave the sullen droop to his head and robbed his body of that keen quick alertness of the lead-dog the commander of his mates. It was his spirit. For the first time in his life, it was broken. McCready had beaten him long ago; his master had beaten him; and during all this day their voices were fierce and vengeful in his ears.
He sprang to his feet, his spine stiffening and a snarl in his throat. The fire had died down and the camp was in the darker gloom that precedes dawn. Through that gloom Kazan saw McCready.
"Wonder who changed your name, Pedro. And how the devil did he come by you? Ho, ho, if you could only talk " They heard Thorpe's voice inside the tent. It was followed by a low girlish peal of laughter, and McCready jerked himself erect. His face blazed suddenly red, and he rose to his feet, dropping the flask in his coat pocket.
"Down, you fool!" cried the doctor as he swept the detective from his feet and threw him down behind a rock. His action was none too soon. A burst of machine gun fire came from the trucks and a hail of bullets splattered on the rocks a few yards from them. McCready crawled back to his gun. "Wait a minute, Lieutenant," counseled the doctor.
I know the kind. Well, you can make up your mind to have it taken out of you on this craft. Understand? Who shipped you, anyway?" "McCready and Swanson." "Sir!" Wolf Larsen thundered. "McCready and Swanson, sir," the boy corrected, his eyes burning with a bitter light. "Who got the advance money?" "They did, sir." "I thought as much. And damned glad you were to let them have it.
Then he went out into the gloom and bent low over the trail they had made a few hours before. It was almost obliterated by the falling snow. Another hour and there would be no trail nothing the next day to tell whoever might pass that they had come this way. By morning it would cover everything, even the fire, if he allowed it to die down. McCready drank again, out in the darkness.
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