Bill looked at him and laughed. “Some patriotic little flagwaver, aren’t you,” he jeered. “No, Herr Junior Lieutenant, I do not intend to shoot at the _Plymouth_ or the _Reading_, or whatever’s the name of that cruiser. Have you never played hare and hounds, Big Chief? Well, this time, you and I and everybody on board are hares. Those two 117-mm. guns forward, and the two on the poop are all right for scaring passenger liners and bringing unarmed merchant-men to haul down their colors. But they haven’t the caliber or the range of three-quarters of the guns aboard that cruiser. This is going to be a race—not a battle! Beat it!”