Mr. Gibney was now himself once more. He struggled to his feet,
and as he did, something burst ten feet away and a little fleecy
cloud of smoke obscured his vision for a moment. Then he
understood. McGuffey had a rapid-fire gun trained on the wari,
and the savages, with frightful yells, were fleeing madly from
the little shells. Half a dozen of them lay dead and wounded
close by.

"Hooray," yelled Mr. Gibney, and dashed at the post which held
Captain Scraggs prisoner. He struck it a powerful blow with his
shoulder and Scraggs and the post crashed to the ground. In an
instant Mr. Gibney was on his knees, tearing at Scraggs's rope
shackles with his teeth. Five minutes later, Captain Scraggs's
hands were free. Then Scraggs did a like service for Gibney.

All the time the shells from the _Maggie II_ were bursting around
them every second or two, and it seemed as if they must be
killed before they could make their escape.

"Beat it, Scraggsy," yelled Mr. Gibney. He stood and picked up a
war club. "Arm yourself, Scraggsy. Take a spear. We may have a
little fighting to do on the beach," he yelled. Captain Scraggs
helped himself to a loose spear, and side by side they raced
through the jungle for the beach.

As they tore along through the jungle path Mr. Gibney's good
right eye (his left was obscured) detected two savages crouching
behind a clump of cocoa-palms.