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"They might even be holding off an attack of some kind," added Alan anxiously. Just then there was another crack of a firearm now a little nearer. The Cibola was drifting directly toward the sound, but very slowly, and would soon have lost all headway. "I don't want to be presumptuous," said Bob in a low voice, "but can't we land and find out what the trouble is?"
The youth was hard at work patching up one side of the improvised hut when he heard a movement in the brushwood not far away. Fearing some wild animal he ran for his gun, but ere he could reach the firearm a voice arrested him. "Stop, Sam Rover, stop!" The voice was that of Dan Baxter, and an instant later the bully came into view, rifle in hand, and followed by Bill Harney.
"And was there only one up there?" queried Step Hen, anxiously, fingering the double-barreled Marlin shotgun, which was the only firearm they had with them, as this expedition had not been organized with any idea of hunting; and the season for game was not on as yet, either, even in this northern country; though Giraffe, who owned the gun, had fetched it in the hope that they might be forgiven if they knocked over a few wild ducks, should their rations run low.
Here was a dirk, the edges entirely worn away, and whitened. There were the metal ribs of what seemed to be a case, or a receptacle of some kind. Lying at one side was an ancient type of firearm, long, heavy, and with an immense bore. Another and another were found a regular arsenal, with the scattered remnants of peculiar little copper receptacles with whitish powder in them.
It was his ambition to make a firearm that would enable them to bag the largest game, and also, at the same time, carry the bullets a greater distance than the short eight-inch barrels could.
He became enthusiastic thinking about the young men who were to gather at his house twice a week to make love to Margalida. They were coming even from as far away as San Juan, the other end of the island, the region of valiant men, where one avoided going out of the house after dark, well knowing that every hillock held a pistol and every tree was a lurking place for a firearm.
Soft one promised to be careful, and Big Tim, entering the hut, passed out at a back door, and descended the cliff to the torrent below by a concealed path which even a climbing monkey might have shuddered to attempt. Meanwhile Softswan, re-arranging and re-examining her firearm, sat down behind the breastwork to guard the fort.
Running across the gangplank, with a firearm in each hand, Major Starland bounded up the few steps leading to the upper deck. The Captain of the boat was seated in the pilot house, calmly smoking a cigarette while he waited. His gaze being turned dreamily toward the river, he saw nothing of the intruder, or, if he heard his footsteps, he was not disturbed.
"Dead certain -but I don't know how long he will stay there. Oh, if I had only had my gun with me!" groaned Snap. "I could have brought him down as easy as pie!" "Aren't you going to take your camera?" asked Giant as he drew in his line and took both his photo outfit and his firearm. "Yes, I forgot," said the doctor's son, and picked up his camera again.
Only a sharp click followed, and all in a flash Snap remembered that in the evening he had cleaned the firearm, but had not loaded it. The fox heard the click, caught sight of Snap, and whirling around made a leap for the woods and was out of sight in a twinkling. "Well, of all the chumps in this world, I'm the worst!"
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