At the beach they turned their
burdens over to 'Frisco Kid, who loaded them, first in the one skiff and
then in the other. As the boats settled under the weight, he kept pushing
them farther and farther out, in order that they should keep clear of
the bottom.
Joe worked away steadily, though he could not help marveling at the
queerness of the whole business. Why should there be such a mystery
about it? and why such care taken to maintain silence? He had just
begun to ask himself these questions, and a horrible suspicion was
forming itself in his mind, when he heard the hoot of an owl from the
direction of the beach. Wondering at an owl being in so unlikely a
place, he stooped to gather a fresh load of iron. But suddenly a man
sprang out of the gloom, flashing a dark lantern full upon him. Blinded
by the light, he staggered back. Then a revolver in the man's hand went
off like the roar of a cannon. All Joe realized was that he was being
shot at, while his legs manifested an overwhelming desire to get away.
Even if he had so wished, he could not very well have stayed to explain
to the excited man with the smoking revolver. So he took to his heels
for the beach, colliding with another man with a dark lantern who came
running around the end of one of the piles of iron. This second man
quickly regained his feet, and peppered away at Joe as he flew down
the bank.
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