“Don’t go in there,” Jim shouted. “It may come down.” He thought it was safer to trust themselves to the rain of missiles than to a building which might also be destroyed and crush them under its weight. By that time Carl was gaining consciousness and he jerked himself to his feet.
“Can you walk, old man? We’ve got to get out of here,” Jim urged.
“Sure.” Carl took a hasty glance over his shoulder and the sight of the yawning root house, to say nothing of the hail of frozen earth that filled the air, fairly put wings to his feet and he ran as fast as they could carry him. The others followed, but keeping their footing was a difficult matter for most of the time they were sliding, and several times Carl sprawled in a frantic effort to stay upright. Then Bob noticed that the direction they were taking would fetch them up quite a distance beyond the trail they must climb in order to reach the plane on the cliff.
“Buddy, Buddy,” he panted. “We’re out of the course.” Jim heard, dug his heels to act as a brake, and skidded around. Glancing ahead he realized they could never scale the wall. He made a megaphone of his hands and bellowed.
“Summers!” But the deputy was going too strong to stop at once, so they panted after him until finally they managed to get him to listen. “We have to get to the trail.”
“Oh, yes, sure!” He seemed too dazed to understand what they really meant, so they each caught him by the arms and struggled to get in the right direction. For a moment they completely lost sight of Kramer, then suddenly they heard him shout.
“Hey--stop--” They heard his gun snap and the crack of a bullet as it struck the rocks. Then sputtered a half dozen shots in quick succession, and the three paused uncertainly.
“He’s attacked,” Jim shouted. “Come along.” They ran faster and presently they could see across to the trail. The air man was holding his right arm to one side, but he pointed with the other. The boys’ eyes followed where he indicated, and in a moment they caught a glimpse of a fleeting figure leaping up the rocks of the cliff. Once, when the fellow came to an open spot, he stopped and leveled his gun, but by that time Summers’ brain began to work. He fired three shots as fast as he could pull the trigger, and they struck dangerously close to the man on the trail. With a curse he leaped back into the shelter of a huge rock.