skimmed along
the sides. No port-holes, no seams, no sign of break or opening there.
He flew past the side, and hung in the air above the vessel's stern. A
dart whistled by his face. He felt the vibrations of the air on his
cheek.

"Hah! There is an opening then in your solid shell? That dart came from
some vent. Let us see!"

He pressed his gallant nag closer to the Ram. His keen eye caught the
varnished curtain that hung across the stern. He saw one side of it
tremble and lift a little as he circled about it. The weak point in the
sea monster was exposed! Hurrah! He would try the metal of a Brownie
cutlass against that varnished curtain! If he could cut that open, the
waves would rush into the hull, and the Ram would sink into the lake
with the noble barks that it had destroyed.

Lawe tightened his bridle reins as he thus meditated, and drew his
cutlass. He dropped a little astern of the Ram, but well to the port
side, so that he might sweep straight across the stern. He poised
himself firmly, bent over in the saddle, and cried, "Go, my good nag!"

Golden Rule, as his pony was named, sprang to the voice of his master as
though conscious of what depended upon him. He passed across the stern
of the Ram so closely that his wings almost touched it.

Whi--rr--rr!

The Ensign's sword ripped through the curtain, and Golden Rule shot by
like an arrow.

Quickly Lawe turned and swept back again on the same track. Again the
blade cut through the curtain, with a downward stroke this time that
laid open a vertical seam.

"Once more, my brave Golden!" said the Ensign, patting his pony, and he
swept the third time across the face of the curtained door. The top and
both edges were now severed from the sides of the shell. The curtain
dropped over so that one corner dragged in the water. The hollow hull of
the shell ship was exposed, and within it the angry faces of a group of
Pixies.

The work wanted yet the finishing stroke. One side of the curtain was
slit down to the water line. The waves were already washing in thereat;
but the other side was only partly severed. It needed one stroke
more--just one! That would lay the curtain level with the lake; then the
billows would roll in, and claim the Pixies and their infernal machine
for their own.

A fourth time Lawe swept across the stern of the Ram. A fourth time his
good sword did its work without fail. The true eye and steady hand of
the Ensign sent it home to the mark.