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Lucile gave the motor a turn and to their great joy the noble little engine responded with a pop-pop-pop. There came another shout, a hopeless one, from the robbers. "We beat them. We " Marian broke short off. "Look, Lucile. Look over there!" To the right of them, bobbing up and down as they had seen it once before, was the head of the strange brown boy.

"Can you make the mend, d'ye think; and just about how long is it going to take you?" "Between five and ten minutes, not more," came the reply; "I've got the hang of it now, and the end's in sight." "Whoopee! that sounds good to me!" shouted Gusty Bellows, waving his hat. Five minutes had hardly passed before they heard the familiar pop-pop-pop of the Speedwell's motor exhaust.

The sailors, back where they were comparatively safe from harm, looked on in admiration at these two grit-full young American officers. Pop-pop-pop! began the fusilade by Jack and Eph again. "Ouch!" came a sudden yell from the stateroom. "Hit you, did we?" called Jack, calmly. "Well, we're going to riddle you unless you stop that nonsense." The answer was another shot from inside the stateroom.

Then pop-pop-pop! began the fusilade from outside, Jack and Eph firing with either hand as they sighted their weapons for new spots. R-r-rip! crash! A long enough bombardment of this sort was certain to reduce the panels to splinters and leave the way clear if they didn't riddle Gray with bullets in the meantime. Pop-pop-pop! The air was becoming heavy with the white fog of smoke.

Out of the silence that ensued there came the faint pop-pop-pop of a motorboat. "Behind the point," said Lucile. "Our motorboat!" whispered Marian. Without a word Lucile started down the beach, then up the creek. She was followed close by Marian. Tripped by creeping vines, torn at by underbrush, swished by wet ferns, they in time arrived at the point where the motorboat had been moored.

A hundred in number, perhaps, they swerved in dignified fashion and in their ineffably beautiful posture of flying, necks gently bent backward and long legs trailing delicately, flew away to the west. They were beginning to rise for a long flight when a harsh rattle of shots broke the evening quiet. Pop-pop-pop! Repeating shotguns worked at full speed.

They circled, climbing steadily. Then pop pop-pop-pop pop, the motor began to stutter. The earth lifted to them as if pulled up by a string. They could see more huts and tiny figures running like disturbed ants. The field where they had spent most of the day broadened beneath them, like a brown blanket spread to receive them.

Then, suddenly, the ominous tic-tac ceased, while overhead came the pop-pop-pop of the seaplane's automatic gun. It was more than the Huns had bargained for. Some dived into underground retreats, others bolted, showing a clean pair of heels to the Askaris, who were now resisting valiantly.

I knew the general direction of our Brigade Headquarters, and after half-an-hour's steady trudging with various creepings and crawlings I arrived and delivered my message. I returned quickly towards Pear-tree Gully. I stopped once to listen for the "Pop-pop-pop!" of our machine-gun but I could not hear it. I hurried on. It was downhill most of the way going back.

Mary V bit her lip, abashed at the revelation of what this meant to Johnny. And then the drone was a roar again, and the airplane was skimming down to them. A pop-pop-pop pop, and the motor stilled suddenly. The little wheels touched the ground, spurned it, touched again and came spinning toward them, reminding Johnny again of a lighting plover.