"Every other man fire with his rifle!" Before he had finished speaking, the reloaded Colt belched forth its rain of death.

It was the machine gun, with its muzzle swiftly turning in an arc of a circle that did the most execution among the outlaws, but the riflemen did their share.
Until his rifle barrel was too hot to hold in his hands, John Carmody shot rapidly, yet coolly putting into his work all the pent-up indignation that he had felt for days against Cosetta and his men.
"Stop the gun!" ordered Dave Darrin, resting a hand on the shoulder of the marine corporal.

"Don't waste its fire." The launch was now free of the shore, and moving down the lagoon at half speed.

On the wharf fully a score of Mexicans either lay dead or dying.
Dave's spoken order to the engineer caused the launch to increase its speed.
"Line up at the starboard rail," Dave called to the men grouped about him.

"We're going to catch it from the shore." The launch was a few hundred yards down the lagoon when Darrin, alertly watching, made out several figures on the eastern shore.
Patiently he waited until the first flash from a rifle was seen, which was followed instantly by the report and the "pss-seu!" of a bullet.
"Let 'em have the rest of what's in the Colt," the young ensign directed, calmly.