"Halt, you young rascal!" roared the long-legged one, in pursuit.
"The fellow who can call names like that, under the circumstances, has
no sense of humor!" chuckled the submarine boy, inwardly.
"Drop that chart and book!" panted the one in chase. "You're stealing
government property!"
"Yes, but which government?" Jack shot back at his pursuer.
"Are you going to stop?"
Jack's answer was to increase his burst of speed slightly.
"Then I'm going to fire!" came the warning. Glancing over his shoulder
the submarine boy saw the long-legged one still running after him. At
the same time the pursuer was raising his revolver, sighting.
Jack felt a little shiver. He had never been suspected of being a
coward, yet he was willing to admit that he didn't want to feel a
chunk of lead plowing its way through him.
"Last word to halt!" yelled the pursuer, in an ugly tone.
"Fire, then!" dared Jack Benson.
Crack! Whizz-zz! Chug! The weapon was discharged promptly. Jack,
still in flight, heard the bullet whistle by him. Then it struck the
sand, fifty feet ahead, throwing up a spurt of the fine particles.
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