Up got Dago Charlie in the sternsheets, and they noticed that his left arm was in a sling. A gigantic black faced him, gesticulating furiously with a windmill motion of his arms. Then out came the dago's revolver, and the black sat sullenly down again. "That ere mutineer gang seems near weakenin'," commented Broncho. "The lead we-alls deals out to 'em is kinder hard to chew on. They has four men in the diskyard, countin' the old he-coon, bein' three notches on Missy Lolie's stock and the hold-up Bill lays out." The _Black Adder's_ boats now drew together, and the whaleboat's crew watched them transferring wounded men from the first boat to the second without firing. The operation was rushed through without much time lost, and then on came the first boat again with three new men in her; but a short cheer burst from the castaways as they noticed the second boat pull round and head away for the distant schooner. But now a new man stood up in the sternsheets of the dago's boat and opened fire, and at his very first shot, over toppled Bill Benson. Down went Loyola on her knees beside the wounded man, whilst Broncho snapped hurriedly at the marksman before he resumed his seat. "Where's he hit?" asked Jack anxiously. "He's only stunned, I think," replied Loyola, with a long sigh of relief. "The bullet has ploughed a groove through his hair, hardly cutting through the skin." "Let him lie in the bottom of the boat, Lolie; you can do nothing for him. He'll come to after a bit, and soon be all right," declared Jack. Dago Charlie was now only pulling leisurely, keeping up with the whaleboat, but taking care not to get any nearer. Noting this, the castaways ceased firing except for an occasional shot, for their ammunition was beginning to get scarce. Bill soon recovered his senses, and though at first feeling a bit queer and shaken, presently quite regained his old self. All through that long, sweltering afternoon Jack and Tari pulled stubbornly, with tireless muscles, obstinately refusing to be relieved. Loyola had been compelled to lie down and rest in the bottom of the boat at Jack's feet, alongside Benson, and notwithstanding an occasional shot whistling overhead, so worn out was the woman from the trying time she had gone through, and lack of sleep, that she was soon dreaming peacefully in the land of nod. Broncho, in the sternsheets with Jim, kept a keen watch on their pursuer, and was ready for him whenever the other man rose to fire. But the latter seemed to bear a charmed life; once Broncho knocked his hat off; then a bullet from the cowboy hit his rifle, and he had to take another; and a third time he was seen to put his hand up to his cheek, and feel where the lead had grazed his cheek-bone and cut a red line across his face, passing between his hat and his ear.