"Rot!" Barcus interrupted; "all you've got is what I've got—a bare chance for your life by running like hell for Monomoy Light. If we're sticking round here when that boat lands, this blithe elopement of yours is liable to finish like that Dead March from Saul!"
"Yes—but listen!" Alan insisted. "They've got to land, haven't they, and leave the boat while they look for us? Well, then, what's to prevent our hiding in the dunes and?"
"It's a head you've got on your shoulders," Barcus struck in admiringly. "Chances are they'll pot us in the act; but I never did dote on walking, and it's all of three miles to Monomoy Light!"
In the next breath, "Look out!" he shrieked. A blue flare had broken out in full blaze on the surface of the water near them, revealing a dory which had drawn in under cover of the darkness, and at the same time discovering to its occupants the two startled figures on the beach. Before they could stir, a spiteful tongue of flame spat out, and a bullet sang between them and buried itself in the sands behind them.
The two turned and pelted off down the beach, seeking to escape that deadly area of illumination. Other shots sped them, but none was so well aimed as the first; and presently they gained the grateful shelter of the night-wrapped dunes.
