AT THE BOTTOM OF THE RIVER
The Russian had told the truth when he said the friends of Mazie and
Cio-Cio-San were on the bridge. Johnny and Hanada had rushed from the
room and had been standing there straining their eyes for a trace of
that strange light beneath the water, when the first shot rang out. But
the Russian had not counted on the extraordinary speed with which Johnny
could drop to earth.
Before the second shot could be fired, Johnny was flat on the surface of
the bridge, quite out of range. Hanada had not fared so well. The first
shot had been aimed at him and had found its mark. He lay all crumpled
up, groaning in mortal agony.
"Get you?" Johnny whispered.
"Yes," the boy groaned, "but you--you get that man."
There came the tramp of feet on the bridge. The police had heard the
shots. The long finger of light from the police boat again felt its way
back and forth through the darkness.
"D' you shoot?" demanded the first policeman to arrive.
"No! No! They didn't do it," a second man interrupted before Johnny
could reply. "It came from the river. I saw the flash. Devils of the
river's deep! What kind of a fight is this, anyway?"
"I seen it! I seen it!" It was Jerry the Rat who now broke into the
gathering throng. "I seen it; a German sub."
"A submarine!" echoed a half dozen policemen at once.
"I think he is right," said Johnny. "You better drag the river."
"Hello!" exclaimed one of the officers. "If this ain't the same two guys
we've been looking for? Johnny Thompson and the Jap."
"You are right," said Johnny disgustedly, "but for once use a little
reason. There are world crooks down there in the river and they have
some helpless woman there as hostage. Perhaps by this time they may be
killing her. I'll keep. I can't get away; not for good. I'm known the
country over, beside your charge against me is false, idiotic."
"Yes, yes," it was Hanada's hoarse whisper. "Take me to a hospital. I'll
tell all and you will know he was not in it at all. Let him help you.
And--and, for God's sake, get that man."
He sank back unconscious.
"Here, Mulligan," ordered a sergeant, "you and Murphy take this Jap to
the Emergency quick. You, Kelly and Flannigan, get over to the box and
call the police boats with drags. Tell 'em to drag the river from
Madison street in one direction and from the lake in the other. It
sounds like a dream, but this thing has got to be cleared up. Them shots
come from the river sure's my name's Harrigan. We got to find how it's
done."
A half hour later, two innocent looking police boats moved silently up
the river from Madison street bridge. They traveled abreast, keeping
half the river's width between them. From their bows there protruded to
right and left, heavy iron shafts. From these iron shafts, at regular
intervals, there hung slender but strong steel chains. These chains
reaching nearly to the bottom of the river were fitted up at the lower
end with heavy pronged steel hooks. At that same moment, two similarly
equipped boats started up the river from the lake. They were combing the
river with a fine tooth comb.
* * * * *
Meanwhile the men beneath the surface of the river were not idle. They
did not realize the danger which their last act had drawn them into and
therefore did not attempt to escape by running their craft out into the
lake. But they did have other matters to attend to. One of their number
was locked in the rear compartment. His fate was unknown to them. This
much they did know, he had not unfastened the door nor answered when
they called to him.
After vainly pounding and kicking the door, they lifted a heavy steel
shaft and using this as a battering ram, proceeded to smash the door
from its fastenings. At first this did not avail. But at last each
succeeding blow left a slightly larger gap between the door and its
steel jamb. Then suddenly, after a violent ram, which sent echoes
through the compartment, the lower catch gave way. With a hoarse shout
the Russian urged his men to redoubled effort. Three more times they
backed away to come plunging forward. The third blow struck the door at
the very spot where the fastening still hung. And then, with a creaking
groan the door gave way.
Just inside the door, Mazie stood tense, motionless, her arms
outstretched in terror. Fingers rigid, lips half-parted in a scream, she
stared at the door. In the doorway stood the Russian, a knife gleaming
in his hand. For a second his eyes searched the room. Then they fell on
the body of the Jap huddled on the floor. Rage darkened his face as the
Russian took a step forward.
At that instant there had come a dull sound of metal grating on metal.
The Russian toppled over on his side and the two girls were thrown to
the floor.
The chamber had given a sudden lurch. The next instant it rolled quite
over, piling the two women and the corpse in a heap and sending the door
shut with a bang. The Russian had fallen outside. The craft rolled over,
once, twice, three times and then hung there, with the floor for its
ceiling.
Overcome with fright and misery, Mazie did not stir for a full minute,
then she dragged herself from the gruesome spot where she lay.
She gave one quick glance at the door. It appeared to have been wedged
solidly shut. Then she turned to Cio-Cio-San, who also had arisen.
"What can have happened?" Mazie asked in a voice she could scarcely
believe was her own.
What had happened was this: one of the hooks on the police boat had
caught in an outer railing of the submarine. The giant iron fish was
hooked.
To throw other drags, fastened on longer chains, into the sub; to send
tugs and police boats snorting backward; to tighten the chains and draw
the sub to the surface, to whirl it about until the hatchway was once
more at the upper side, this was merely a matter of time.
When the Radicals saw what had been done, they doubtless realized that
if they refused to come out the lid would be blown off and they would
be likely to perish in the explosion. They had apparently planned to
charge the police and attempt an escape, for the Russian came first with
a rush, a pistol in each hand. But Johnny Thompson's good right arm
spoiled all this. He had leaped to the surface of the sub and when the
Russian appeared he gave him a blow under the chin that lifted him off
his feet and sent him plunging into the river.
Seeing this the other members of the gang surrendered.
Johnny was the first man below. Seeing the closed door to the right, he
hammered on it, shouting:
"C'mon out, we're the police."
Slowly the door opened. There before him stood Mazie.
"Mazie!" Johnny's eyes bulged with astonishment.
"Johnny!" There was a sob in her voice. Then catching herself, she
glanced down at her wrinkled and blood-bespattered dress.
"Johnny," she implored, "for goodness' sake get me out of this horrid
place so I can change these clothes."
"There's decent enough dresses at the police station," suggested a
smiling officer.
"Call the wagon," said Johnny.
Soon they were rattling away toward the station, Mazie, Cio-Cio-San, and
Johnny.
"Johnny," Mazie whispered, "you didn't desert, did you?"
"Did you think that?" Johnny groaned in mock agony.
"No, honest I didn't, but what--what did you do?"
"Just got tired of waiting for Uncle Sam to bring me home from Russia,
so I walked, that's all. Here's my discharge papers, all right. And
here's my transportation."
With a smile Johnny handed her the two crumpled papers.
"You see," he exclaimed, "a Russian brigand got me in the left arm when
I was guarding the Trans-Siberian Railroad. They sent me to the
hospital, then gave me my discharge. Said I'd be no more good as a
soldier. And after waiting for a boat that never seemed to come I hit
out for the north. Nothing crooked about that at all, but I had to be a
bit sly about it anyway, for Uncle Sam don't like to have you take
chances even if you are discharged."
"Oh! Johnny, that's grand!" murmured Mazie.
The rest of the journey was accomplished in silence. Now and again Mazie
gave Johnny's arm a little squeeze, as if to make sure he was still
there.
"Gee, kid," Johnny exclaimed as Mazie reappeared, after a half hour in
the matron's room. "You sure do look swell."
She was dressed in the plain cotton dress furnished by the city to
destitute prisoners. But the dress was as spotlessly clean as was
Mazie's faultless complexion.
"Gee, Mazie!" Johnny went on, "I've seen you in a lot of glad rags but
this tops them all. Looks like you'd just come from your own
kitchenette."
Mazie bit her lip to hide her confusion. Then blushing, she said:
"Johnny, I'm hungry. When do we eat?"
"I know a nice place right round the corner. C'mon. Where's
Cio-Cio-San?"
"Gone to the Emergency hospital."
"Hanada," Johnny exclaimed. "I must find out about him."
"Just came from there myself," said the police sergeant, a kindly light
in his eyes. "I'm sorry to tell you, but your friend's checked in."
"Dead?"
"Dead," answered the officer, "but he lived long enough to know that the
band of world outlaws was captured. He died happy knowing that he had
served his country well, and I guess that's about all any Jap asks."
"Oh, yes, one more thing," he went on; "he cleared up that little matter
of conspiracy before he died. Something that concerned him alone. You
weren't in it. His part, well, you might call it treason, then again you
mightn't. Considering what he's done for this country and his, we don't
call it treason. It's been sponged off the slate."
"I'm glad to hear that," sighed Johnny, as he turned to rejoin Mazie.