twenty yards from the other.
``Not if I knows it,'' cried Sandy as
he shot square at Foley, the ball going
through the
sleeve of his coat, but leaving
him unharmed.
``Curse yer fer a fool!'' came from
Foley, dropping his
paddle and standing
up in the skiff, which now had nothing
to guide it but Hildey's exhausted arm.
The skiff was rocking
violently. Foley
attempted to balance himself as he raised
his
pistol to shoot. In a flash the frail craft
was caught in the conflicting currents, it
careened and capsized, and the two men
were battling for life in the whirlpool.
Sandy was so
intent on escape that
he had gone some distance down stream
before realizing he was no longer
pursued. Suddenly an agonizing cry was
borne on the
midnight air:
``Help! Help! I'm drownin'!''
The boy rested on his
paddle, and
scanned the river in the direction of the
voice.
``Don't let's let 'em drown like rats in
a hole,'' said Sandy, and he started his
boat back toward the bend.
``Gil, gimme yer
pistol. They may be
tryin' to play some trick on us, an' if
they are, we'll be ready for 'em.''
The
precaution was unnecessary, for
when they came near, they saw the
upturned skiff circling around in the eddy,
its
paddles bobbing with the waves, and
the hats of Foley and Hildey slowly
drifting toward the bank.
Leander and Dink,
meanwhile, had
come up, and with the other two boys
remained for fully half an hour waiting
for some sign of the two robbers, but
in vain; for far beneath the surface of
the water in the maddening current, the
ill-spent lives of Foley and Hildey were
ended. They were dead in the cruel
embrace of the Devil's Elbow.
End