ll the
office crowd into No. 2 gravel pit, pronto! Shells can't reach them
there."

"I'll tell the engineer to whistle to Anton. Then I'll close down the
works and get the men into shelter. But we've got to act lively!"

Crisply he gave his orders to the waiting men, several of whom were
grumbling because they had not been allowed to "clean up the gang" as
one of them phrased it. They brightened up, however, at the prospect
that there would be a fight.

Half a minute later, the whistle sent out a succession of sharp
blasts, and, almost simultaneously, there came the sharp crackle of
wireless from the station on the hill.

A volume of Russian curses was heard coming over the water at this
sound, and the rowers redoubled their efforts.

Presently, from all corners of the plant, the workers came hurrying.
The last man was hardly down in the gravel pit when there came a
detonation from the sea-front and a shell came whistling over.

It was not directed at the works, but at the tiny cabin on the top of
the hill which held the wireless outfit. Fortunately, the cabin was
partly sheltered by a rock, and, moreover, it was but a small mark to
try to hit. Some twenty shells passed over the island or exploded idly
on the hill before one struck the sheltering rock. The pieces screamed
over the cabin, one fragment tearing a hole in the roof but doing no
harm to Anton.

Truth to tell, the boy was thoroughly enjoying himself. He felt a
hero. Never having seen a shot fired in earnest, he hardly realized
what the effects of a shell-burst might be.

The wireless crackled on.

For two hours the bombardment continued, several pieces of shell
having passed through the walls above his head. The rock protected the
lower part of the cabin. Anton was crouched low over his instrument,
and, as yet, the aerials were intact.

Then, suddenly, a piece of bursting shell whizzed across the wires.

Silence!

The wireless was down.

Chukalook Bank was absolutely cut off from all communication with the
outside world. The men of Bull Mine must fight off the Siberian
cruiser, alone.

The six-inch gun now was turned on the works, a nearer and an easier
target. The power-house, the stamp-mills and the cyanide vats suffered
most. A six-inch shell at close range can do an appalling amount of
destruction. At the end of an hour, most of the works were in ruins.
Yet shells could not destroy the gravel bank, nor damage the great
sluice beyond rep