"Stop the gun!" ordered Dave Darrin, resting a hand on the shoulder
of the marine corporal. "Don't waste its fire."

The launch was now free of the shore, and moving down the lagoon at
half speed. On the wharf fully a score of Mexicans either lay dead
or dying.

Dave's spoken order to the engineer caused the launch to increase
its speed.

"Line up at the starboard rail," Dave called to the men grouped
about him. "We're going to catch it from the shore."

The launch was a few hundred yards down the lagoon when Darrin,
alertly watching, made out several figures on the eastern shore.

Patiently he waited until the first flash from a rifle was seen,
which was followed instantly by the report and the "pss-seu!"
of a bullet.

"Let 'em have the rest of what's in the Colt," the young ensign
directed, calmly. "Men, don't fire too rapidly, but keep up your
work. We want to be remembered by Cosetta, if he has the good luck
to be still alive."

It was neither a heavy nor an accurate fire that came now from
the enraged Mexicans. Helped out by the Colt, the fire from the
moving craft was sharp enough to discourage the rapidly diminishing
ardor of the miscreants on shore.