"I 'd like to know which one of them did that," he growled, glancing
toward me. "Say, what 's the matter with you--shot? You 're white as
a sheet of paper, man."
"I got one on the head with a belaying pin from the heft of it. The
bullet touched me--here. Lord, how it burns."
"Who did the shooting?"
"Henley here," and I touched the fellow with my foot. "He fired just
as I hit him."
The Lieutenant stepped forward and looked down into the upturned face.
"So that's the man!" he exclaimed. "We 've done a good day's work. I
've heard stories of that half-breed ever since we 've been on this
coast. He must be a natural devil, but he 's played hide and seek with
Uncle Sam for the last time. This will be a feather in the 'old man's'
cap. He 's waking up."
Henley stirred as he spoke, and opened his eyes, staring up into my
face, and then at the Lieutenant's uniform. The sight of the latter
perplexed him.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked angrily, making an effort to rise.
"Where is Broussard?"
"Henley," I said, stepping in between them, "the game is up, and the
best thing you can do now is keep quiet. This gentleman is Lieutenant
Hutton, of the Revenue Cutter _Saline_, and his men have the crew of
the _Sea Gull_ under hatches forward.
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