"That was for a caution. The next shot will be to hit!" panted the
pursuer.
"I wonder if you can do it?" Jack taunted backward over his shoulder.
There was method in the submarine boy's tactics. He hoped, by making
the stranger angry, to spoil his aim.
Crack! The bullet sped by, fanning the fugitive's face. The close
aim, however, had the reverse of the effect expected by the marksman.
It roused all the submarine boy's anger. He might be hit, but he
would stop, now, only if a bullet laid him low.
Two more shots sped after the fugitive. Their aim was too close for
comfort, though not true enough to score a hit. Each of the shots
sounded a bit further back, too.
"He's getting winded," gritted the running submarine boy. "With his long
legs that chap ought to get over ground faster than I. The difference
is that that fellow is out of condition, and my hard work keeps me
about up to the mark of condition all the time. He--"
Crack! Jack happened to turn, just as the fellow fired, and the boy was
able to see that the bullet struck the ground behind him.
"Out of range!" clicked Benson. "What's the good of carrying a pocket
revolver for service work? Now, if he had a dozen shots more left he
would be wasting his cartridges to fire at me.
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