He heard shots from the water, and looking back saw that the men
in the longboat had ceased rowing, and were returning the fire
from the shore.

``Come back, Hope is all right,'' her brother called to him. ``I
haven't seen a shot within a hundred yards of her yet, they're
firing from the Custom-house and below. I think Mac's hit.''

``I'm not,'' MacWilliams's voice answered from behind a rock,
``but I'd like to see something to shoot at.''

A hot tremor of rage swept over Clay at the thought of a possibly
fatal termination to the night's adventure. He groaned at the
mockery of having found his life only to lose it now, when it was
more precious to him than it had ever been, and to lose it in a
silly brawl with semi-savages. He cursed himself impotently and
rebelliously for a senseless fool.

``Keep back, can't you?'' he heard Langham calling to him from
the shore. ``You're only drawing the fire toward Hope. She's
got away by now. She had both the horses.''

Langham and MacWilliams started forward to Clay's side, but the
instant they left the shadow of the rock, the bullets threw up
the sand at their feet and they stopped irresolutely. The moon
showed the three men outlined against the white sand of the beach
as clearly as though a searchlight had been turned upon them,
even while its shadows sheltered and protected their assailants.
At their backs the open sea cut off retreat, and the line of fire
in front held them in check. They were as helpless as chessmen