The
blades bent as he sent the boat hissing through the water.
There was no tiller, but Ken found a broken scull at the bottom of the
boat with which he contrived to steer. He kept her head due south, but
fairly close in shore, and what between Roy's powerful efforts, and the
strong current which always flows out of the Sea of Marmora into the
Aegean, they were soon going almost as fast as a man could run.
'It'll be Heaven's own luck if no one heard that yell,' muttered Roy, as
he bent all his giant strength to the oars.
'I wish it had been your fist and not mine,' Ken replied with some
bitterness.
'But I couldn't have got near him,' Roy answered simply. 'You see, I don't
speak the lingo.'
The vicious crack of a rifle interrupted the conversation, and a bullet
slapped the water just astern, and went skipping away in a series of ducks
and drakes.
'They're on to us,' muttered Ken between set teeth. Roy said nothing. He
only pulled a little harder. By the way the oars bent, Ken almost feared
they would snap.
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