UNDERGROUND.
Leonard had scarcely left the shore two rods behind him when his pursuer reached the point where he had leaped into the boat.
Pausing a moment and retracing his steps, he ran to the base of a high cliff of rocks, and again blew his whistle.
“Ratter! Beattie! Hawkins! Out here, quick! There’s work to do.”
“Hi! Snags, what is it?” responded a voice apparently coming from the depths of the rock.
“I had a prisoner and he has flown. He is in a boat now, rowing for dear life.”
“In a boat! How in thunder did you come to let him get a boat? Who is he, anyhow?”
“Do not ask any questions, but be after him as quick as you can. He must not escape!”
“Well, I’ll call the boys.”
“Confound it, you should not have to call them. Why didn’t you get ready for action when you heard my first whistle?”
“Didn’t suppose there was going to be any trouble of this kind. You ought to have watched him more careful――”
“Well, well. Never mind that now. He is pulling away fast, and every moment is precious.”
“Yes, we’re coming. Can’t you tell a fellow what kind of a job it is, Snags?”
“No, not till I see Roake. I don’t know much about it myself yet. Only it’s life or death to get that chap that’s leaving us so fast.”
By this time four men had emerged from an aperture in the rocks, and were hastening to the shore.
“Take two boats, branch out, head him in—be sure that you catch him!” shouted Snags, and before he had fairly ceased speaking, the pursuers were pulling from the shore.
They rowed rapidly, and with a certainty and confidencethat betokened an intimate knowledge of the locality.
Snags now turned toward the perpendicular ascent of rock and entered the aperture from which the men had emerged. He stepped into what was apparently a small fissure in the rocks, overhung by a projecting crag.
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