A tremendous surprise was voiced by the absolute silence that followed. It was broken by Brittler's sneering voice: "So we might as well give up, had we, eh? Guess you don't know Bart Brittler, sonny! Let 'em have it, Dolph!" _Spang--spang--spang--spang!_ A fusillade of revolver-shots woke the echoes. The bullets spattered in the water and thudded on the beach. Fortunately no one was hit. "Scatter, fellows!" shouted Jim. And in a lower voice he added, "Don't fire back!" Silence again. The two on the sloop were evidently reloading. Then came a regular splashing. The men on the _Barracouta_ were paddling her ashore. Armed and desperate, now fully aware that the only things between themselves and a term in a Federal prison were the bullets in their automatics, they would go to almost any length to escape, even to the taking of life itself. Plainly there was trouble ahead. The boys came together again at the foot of the sea-wall. Should they fight or run? It was one or the other. Whatever else they might be, Dolph and Brittler clearly were not cowards. If there was a fight, it was certain somebody would be shot, very likely killed. Was the risk worth taking? Would it not be better to hurry back to the cabin, warn Filippo and Throppy, and escape up the bank into the woods? The smugglers, with but two automatics against four, would hardly dare to follow them. "Way enough, Dolph!" growled Brittler's voice. The sloop had grounded. Splash! Splash! Her two passengers had leaped out into the water and were making their way to the beach. Jim came to an instant decision. He opened his lips, but the words he had planned to speak were never uttered. The strong, rhythmical dip of oars suddenly beat through the fog. "What's the trouble here?" demanded a stern voice. A great surge of thankfulness almost took away Jim's power of speech. "It's the cutter!" he ejaculated, chokingly. "Throppy got her, after all!" XXIII WHITTINGTON GRIT So far as the smugglers were concerned the game was up. It was one thing to attempt to overpower a group of boys and appropriate their sloop, but it was quite another to offer armed resistance to the officers of the United States revenue service. Dolph and Brittler realized that; they realized, too, that they had absolutely no chance of escaping from the island, so they stood sullenly by while Jim told his story to the lieutenant commanding the boat. At the close of his recital the officer turned to them. "You hear the statements of this young man. What have you to say for yourselves?" "Nothing now," replied Brittler. "You may hand over your guns." The two surrendered their automatics and were placed under arrest. Following Jim's guidance, the lieutenant inspected the captured smugglers in Camp Spurling and the Chinese in the fish-house. Leaving a guard on shore and taking Jim with him, he went off to make his report to the captain.