THE WAY OF THE HUN
Nelson jumped—the distance now was but a few feet—and landed safely between thwarts. Oars dashed at the water and the boat headed away. Nelson, recovering himself, peered about. It seemed lighter here than on the schooner's deck, and it took him but an instant to learn the truth. He leaped to his feet again despairingly.
"He isn't here! You lied to me! Where is he?" he cried.
An arm pulled him back to the seat and Mr. Cupples' voice came to him from the dimness, broken and husky.
"We couldn't find him, Nelson. He must have been forward when the first shot hit us. I think he was—I'm afraid" The mate's voice trailed off into silence. A fourth shot struck the schooner. They could see the brief scarlet glare of the bursting shell and hear the havoc caused by the flying shrapnel. But Nelson neither saw nor heard. He was staring dumbly, agonizedly into the night, while Pickles, clasped close in his arms, whimpered his sympathy.
