"Is it from Hen?" asked two or three at once, that being the all important fact stamped upon their minds.
At the same time they realized just as well as anything it must be so, else Elmer would not be smiling and frowning as he deciphered the meaning of the scrawl. As all the boys knew, Hen Condit was one of the poorest writers in the Hickory Ridge High School. It may be remembered that in speaking of his other note some of them brought this fact forward, stating that a teacher had once declared the boy well named, since his efforts looked like "hen-tracks" on paper.
"It's lucky that I'm able to read any sort of old writing," remarked Elmer, not without a touch of boyish pride; "it's a gift with me, and Hen sometimes came to ask me to tell him what he'd set down, for after it got cold he couldn't well make it out himself."
"Then you've sensed the meaning of his present communication, have you, Elmer?" questioned Mark, a little bit given to stilted language.
"I can read it all right," was the reply he received, "but understanding the gist of it is another thing. The sentences seem disconnected, and some of them are queer. When Hen wrote this he must either have been half out of his mind, or else he was in great fear of something, orsomebody!"
Of course, when the scout-master said this, it produced something of a sensation among the other six fellows. They exchanged grave looks, while Lil Artha was seen to shake his head, and give that gun of his a little tilt upwards, as though he now believed more than ever the time was near at hand when he would be compelled to make some sort of use of the same, in order to save the kidnapped chum.
"Please read it out to us, Elmer!" begged Landy.
"Yeth, we're wondering what it can all be about," added Ted Burgoyne.
"Then listen, and please don't interrupt me until I finish," said Elmer. "This is what Hen's written with a lead pencil on this sheet of paper, which I think he must have torn from a little memorandum book I happen to know he always carries about in his pocket."
He held the crumpled paper closer to his eyes, for in places the writing was rather faint, and in two particular spots Elmer had to guess at a word, for evidently a drop of something, perhaps a salty tear, had fallen on the paper, blurring the work of the lead pencil stub.
"Boys, perhaps you'll get this—he says he counted seven and everyone wore a khaki uniform—he thinks you must be the militia—course I know better—but it's no use, you just can't help me—I'm a goner, and the most miserable boy on earth—but I say on the honor of a scout I never meant to do it—I've just got to disappear—maybe I'll let you hear from me if ever I get Out West where they can't find me. Oh! what hard luck, but I have to do whatever he says, no matter what I want. I'm meaning to leave this behind in the scout way, and don't I hope you'll find it. There, he's calling to me to hurry, for we're going to quit this hide-out and try to escape. I'm awful hungry, too. Better leave me to my fate unless you can find a way to seal his lips. That's all. Hen."
"Great Caesar!" exclaimed Lil Artha, who had hung on every word spoken by Elmer. "That proves one of two things. Either our poor pard is looney, or else he's got in the power of a rascal who controls his mind. I always knew Hen was weak in the upper story just a teenty mite. Poor old chap, we've got to find him if it takes us till Christmas. You hear me talking now!"
"Yeth, and we all thay the thame!" burst from Ted, as he doubled his none too expansive fists, and looked as savage as he could.
Indeed, a hasty glance around just then would have told any observer that this strange message, filled with despair and yearning, left by Hen Condit in the crotch of a stick thrust into the ground, had renewed their former resolution not to give over the search until they had either found the missing chum or exhausted every known device looking to success.
"If you asked me," said Elmer, "I'd say the answer to the riddle lay between the two things you mention, Lil Artha. Hen is crazed almost, but it is with fear. He finds himself in the power of a brute who is using him for his own purposes. How it's been done, of course, we can only guess, but the boy believes he has been forced to rob his guardian, and that a posse is searching right now for him, with the intention of putting him in jail. That explains his panic."
"And say, he tells us right at the end of his note that he's some hungry," Lil Artha went on to remark; "and, according to my notion, that condition is next door to being insane. Why, mebbe the poor fellow hasn't had a solitary bite for a whole day or even two of 'em. I pity him from the bottom of my heart."
"Notice what he incidentally says near the end," added Elmer. "'Better leave me to my fate unless you can find a way to seal his lips.' That seems to strengthen our theory, doesn't it?"
"All this mention of 'he' must stand for the unknown man who has got Hen, of course?" ventured Mark.
"Couldn't be anybody else," the patrol leader made answer; "in fact, Hen just now doesn't seem able to even think of any other person."
"The fellow is no common rascal, let me tell you, suh," Chatz declared. "He must have been some sort of professor along the lines of magic, perhaps a hypnotist who performed wonders on the stage before crowds, and then dabbled in things that the law sat down on, which landed him in the penitentiary finally."
"When the truth comes out, Chatz, I'm positive that your theory will be found pretty near the exact facts," affirmed Elmer.
"But all the time we're jabbering away here," warned Lil Artha, "remember that they're getting further and further away from us."
"As to that," the patrol leader assured him, "a few minutes don't make so much difference, and it's always best to start right, so as to avoid a loss of ten times as much later on by making mistakes. Then again, I'm pretty sure that man is too smart to think of trying to leave Sassafras Swamp before night comes, even if he plans to do it then."
Somehow, this intelligence comforted the more impetuous ones. They had such unlimited faith in Elmer knowing what course was best to pursue that his judgment was accepted on its face value every time—just as the Treasury notes of the United States Government are relied upon to be worth their face denomination in specie.
"About how long ago would you thay they had thkipped out of here?" Ted asked, as they still lingered, looking to the right and to the left, as though wanting to make certain nothing valuable in the way of a clue could have escaped their scrutiny.
"Lil Artha, we're depending on you for that information," suggested Elmer, although it could not be doubted that he himself was able to give a pretty good answer, for he had observed certain signs as well as the tall scout.
"Not more than two hours ago, I'd say, Elmer," Lil Artha ventured, with considerable confidence manifested in his manner, as though if put to it he was able to muster all the evidence necessary to establish his veracity.
"Just about what I thought myself," added the scout-master, with a satisfied smile. "Two heads are better than one, any day, Lil Artha, especially when they seem to work together as well as ours do."
"Then the man didn't think to skip out right away after he got back here, did he?" asked Landy, "because a good many hours have elapsed since Lil Artha woke us all up with that sudden shot."
"No, he must have slept for some time," answered Elmer, "knowing there wasn't apt to be any sort of a pursuit in the night. Then again he relied more or less on having blinded his trail, as a man who had spent some time in the West among Indians and cowboys would have done. It wasn't a great while before dawn when he must have aroused poor Hen and told him they must get away."
"But when do you think our chum could have scribbled that message?" asked Mark.
"Evidently, after he knew about our being within a mile of him," replied Elmer, with a promptness that told how he had figured it all out. "I suppose the man told him about the khaki soldiers who were in the swamp looking for them, thinking it would make Hen more frightened than ever; but we know he guessed the truth about our being his comrades of the Wolf Patrol."
"Then, believing he would be hurried off again, sooner or later," Mark continued, "he took the first chance he had to write that message. He must have fixed it in that split stick, and just as they were leaving here stuck the wand in the ground, scout fashion."
"We seem to have it all sized up to a dot by now," remarked the leader, preparing to move; "and as there isn't anything else for us to do here, suppose we get busy on the trail again, Lil Artha?"
"I'm your chicken, and you can depend on me when it comes to scenting out a trail, Elmer. Wonder if that man will be up to any more high jinks in the way of walking along logs, climbing trees, and such tricks? We'll keep a good lookout for such capers, believe me."
They were soon moving along, the two trackers in the van as before, with others trailing after. Landy brought up the rear, though Mark kept a careful eye on him most of the time, as though rather skeptical about his ability to make progress without getting into some sort of trouble.
It would be just like clumsy Landy to trip, and make a headlong plunge into the brown tamarack water of the swamp just when he should have been most careful. They had known him to do such things more than a few times in the past; and on this account Mark always made it a point to drop back and keep him company when he imagined the situation became acute.
From the rapid manner in which Lil Artha and Elmer picked up the trail it was plainly evident that so far the unknown fugitive from justice had not bothered resorting to any of his tricks looking to blinding the tracks.
He had been compelled to wait for daylight before trying to move through the swamp, because progress would have been next door to impossible at night time unless one were familiar with the way, or else carried a lantern. Neither of these happened to be within his scope, and so he had to depend upon daylight.
Of course, none of the boys knew what sort of a reception they might expect when finally they overtook the man they were following. What little they could gather from various sources inclined them to believe he must be a pretty desperate sort of customer. The occasional mention of him in that strange message left by Hen was along those very lines.
He might be armed for all they knew. Such criminals usually are, though in this case it might be otherwise, Elmer had told them, since he believed the man had been a prisoner making his escape when first he struck Sassafras Swamp, and concluded to have his hide-out in its depths.
Still Lil Artha was not for taking too many chances. As he moved along, the tall scout managed to keep that reliable gun of his in position for quick use, should an occasion arise calling for service.
He also tried to glance ahead from time to time, in hopes of locating any suspicious ambuscade. A sudden attack that would leave himself and Elmer weaponless might throw the entire party into a state of helplessness, which would always reflect on their ability as scouts.
They spent half an hour in this fashion, though the trail wound in and out so much that at the end of that time they could hardly have been more than a quarter of a mile away from the late camp of the fugitives.
"Did you hear that, Elmer?" whispered Lil Artha, suddenly, throwing out a hand so as to clutch the other's arm; while everyone became rigid with suspense.
"It certainly sounded like a cough," admitted the other.
"But I'm dead certain it wasn't from in front of us, but over to the left, which would be some queer," muttered the tall tracker, staring in the quarter which he now indicated with outstretched finger.
"I thought the same, Lil Artha," Elmer told him; "but then this trail twists and turns so much it might get around that way easy enough."
"Of course it might, Elmer."
"All we can do is to keep going along as we are, and some of us watch for signs of Hen and the man over yonder," added the scout-master.
"Then you don't think it'd pay to strike out to the left?" questioned the other, who seemed to be hesitating between two opinions.
"We would be silly to quit a sure thing for an uncertainty," said Elmer, decidedly. "After all our ears may have deceived us, and it might have only been some queer grunt of a frog, a heron fishing for minnows, or even a muskrat choking over his dinner. No, we must keep on as we're going, that's sure."
Lil Artha looked relieved. After all, it pleased the tall scout to have someone decide a puzzling question like this for him. Responsibility weighs heavy on the shoulders of many even capable boys, and they are only too glad to be able to shift it on occasion.
"Just as you say, Elmer, and I reckon you're quite right, too," always in a low, sibilant tone that would not carry further than a dozen yards at the most.
They again turned to take up the trail, which just at that point happened to run through some bushes coming up to their hips. It was easy to see where those ahead of them had brushed through, for they had trampled down the lush grass, and brushed aside the tender branches of the bushes.
Elmer had even bent over to take a good look down at the ground before setting forth when he heard Toby Jones give a sudden, violent hiss.
Now, that was a well-known sign among the boys of the Wolf Patrol, and which had served them in good stead many a time in the past. Heard under such thrilling conditions, it could mean only one thing; Toby had discovered some sort of danger, and was warning his comrades in order that they might drop down out of sight.
Every fellow seemed to understand this instantly, for as though they were all moved by the same controlling influence, they allowed themselves to sink on their knees amidst the friendly bushes that afforded such splendid shelter. Even as Elmer dropped thus he had shot a quick glance toward the left, from which that seeming cough had come, and saw something that electrified him.
No wonder the young scout-master was surprised and thrilled by what he saw as he crouched there amidst the bushes, and stared over their tops.
Not more than sixty or seventy yards away at the most there appeared to be a violent commotion among another bunch of brush, as though a number of unseen parties might be forcing their way through the obstruction.
Even as Elmer, and his chums as well, looked, a figure burst out, quickly followed by a second, a third, and then still more, until in all there were six in the queer procession that seemed to be heading directly for the late hide-out of the swamp fugitives.
What startled the boys most of all was the fact that they knew several of those who went to make up that strange company. First, there was Johnny Spreen, the bound boy at the Trotter farm, and who had given them so many points concerning the swamp he knew so well.
Just behind Johnny walked a consequential looking personage dressed in a blue uniform, and, with a glittering shield fastened on his left breast. Well did the Hickory Ridge boys know the Chief of Police in their own town. Behind him came a second and a third man, also in uniform, whom they knew to be local "cops;" while the next had the appearance of having been impressed into the posse; then at the tail end of the procession came Farmer Trotter, carrying an old musket that may have done duty in the Civil War, half a century back, for it looked like a fossil.
"Gosh!"
That was Lil Artha "letting off steam," as he would have termed it; but he uttered his favorite expression so very low that there was not the slightest danger of it's being overheard.
"Don't wink an eyelash if you can help it, fellows," whispered Elmer, who apparently, for reasons of his own, did not want the posse to know of their presence so near by.
Of course, the others instantly knew what he meant, and if they had been made of stone it is doubtful whether they could have maintained a more rigid attitude as they crouched there in the bushes.
Fortunately, all of the posse seemed to be looking ahead. Perhaps they had been warned by the bound boy that the place to which he was taking them was not very far distant, which would account for their eagerness.
So they passed on. Elmer kept whispering to his followers not to make a move unless it was to drop down flat on their faces. Apparently, not even Landy felt inclined to do this. As long as the Chief and his gallant posse remained in sight everyone crouched there and took it out in staring.
Then when even Farmer Trotter had been swallowed up in the scrub, sighs might have been heard arising from some of the boys' lips, as though they were relieved to have the suspense ended.
"Never glimpsed us!" remarked Mark, triumphantly.
"Blind as bats in the day-time!" added Landy.
"They didn't happen to turn this way," said Elmer; "and since you all kept so still I don't believe they'd have noticed us even if they had looked. I want to say it was well done, boys."
"That was Johnny Spreen, wasn't it?" asked Landy, as though he wanted to have someone corroborate what his own eyes had told him.
"It certainly was," said Lil Artha. "The farmer wouldn't let him come with us, but I guess the Chief just swore them both into his posse, and then they had to come or run up against the law. A sheriff or a police Chief can do that, you understand; no matter whether a man wants to serve or not, he's got to."
"And you all noticed, I reckon," remarked Chatz, "that they were making straight fo' the hide-out where Hen and that man spent the night. That shows Johnny must have figured out after we left him that it would be a good place for hiding. What do you all say about it?"
"Oh! there's no question but what you're correct, old top!" Lil Artha told him in his queer way. "But I'm real tickled because Elmer didn't take a notion to hail the Chief, and take him in on our deal."
Elmer laughed at that.
"It wasn't any 'Hail to the Chief' this time, you see, Lil Artha," he remarked. "We have borne the heat and burden of the day, and it wasn't right that that crowd, coming in at the tail end of the chase, should share alike with us. Besides, you remember we decided we wanted to get at poor Henbeforethe law could lay a hand on him."
"So we did," muttered Chatz.
"But Elmer," objected Toby, "supposing they get to that place, and find the birds flown, don't you reckon they'll notice that we've been there?"
"So far as the Chief and his men go," returned the other, "I wouldn't believe them capable of finding out anything except that the camp was empty. But all the same I suppose they will know about us."
"Meaning that Johnny will see our tracks, and read the story there; is that it, Elmer?" queried Lil Artha, quick to catch on to the meaning of the patrol leader's words.
"Yes, Johnny will tell, because he's been hunting furs so long that he knows a heap about following tracks. When he finds out there were a lot of boys in the camp he'll guess we discovered the place."
"Mebbe they'll take it for granted we caught the birds, and be ready to throw up the game then and there?" suggested Toby.
"Hardly that," advised Elmer; "Johnny ought to be able to tell them different. He would soon learn after looking things over that all our tracks were madeafterthose of the man, when we left the camp. You see that must tell him we were pursuing the fellow. I put myself in Johnny's place; and that's how I believe I'd figure it out."
"A good way to do, too, believe me," said Mark.
"Then in that case," Lil Artha continued, "they'll be coming along after us before a great while. Whew! if this doesn't beat anything I ever took part in. It's a continuous procession, boys, winding in and out through the high lands of old Sassafras Swamp—first Hen and the man who controls his actions; then seven bold scouts of the Wolf Patrol; and finally our big puffball of a Chief and his valiant posse bringing up the rear."
"But we don't want them to overtake us, do we?" asked Landy, actually meaning to hint that they had better be moving on, which was a remarkable thing to enter the head of the Smith boy, always the first to desire a halt.
"We do not," Lil Artha informed him, plainly, "and to prevent such a horrible catastrophe from happening we expect to be on the jump again right away, doubling our pace it may be, Landy. The worst is yet to come, remember."
"Huh! you can't scare me any, Lil Artha," the fat scout told his tormentor; for he knew very well that with a trail to follow they could hardly proceed any more rapidly than before.
Progress was immediately resumed. They went forward in about the same manner as before, with Mark keeping Landy company at the tail-end of the procession. The situation was now growing more and more serious, and much depended on whether they could manage to overtake the fugitives before night came on. A whole day's tramping through the intricate recesses of the swamp, just as the dry land afforded footing, was a monumental task that must try the nerve of the best of them; and Landy, if not one or two others, would be apt to drop out of the ranks long before sunset came.
Elmer, however, was hopeful that they must overtake those they chased long before such utter weariness seized upon them. He knew that Hen Condit himself, although no weakling, could not stand hours upon hours of continual walking, especially when it consisted of such uncertain footing as fell to their portion under those conditions.
Complete exhaustion then might compel Hen to beg his companion to either leave him or else order a halt. One way or the other suited the scouts just as well, so long as they overtook Hen.
When Landy found that he was puffing from his exertions he took an extra grip on himself and would not listen to Lil Artha when the tall scout proposed that he drop out.
"All you have to do is to squat where we leave you, Landy," the other had told him in a wheedling way; "and after we're done our business we'll sure promise to look you up again, won't we, Elmer?"
"Nothing doing," snapped Landy, decisively; "what d'ye take me for, Lil Artha, to desert my poor chum Hen when he needs help so much? I'm a sticker I want you to know. Adhesive plasters haven't got anything on me when it comes to standing by you through thick and thin. No use wasting your breath; save it for your work, say I!"
"Let him be, Lil Artha," said the patrol leader, hardly knowing whether it was fidelity to a fellow-scout in distress that influenced Landy, or a dreadful fear lest he find himself left alone in the midst of the dismal swamp.
"Why yes," added Mark, "Landy is doing all right, even if he does wheeze more'n is good for him. But he hasn't stumbled more than six times in the last half hour, which is some record for Landy, you understand, follows [Transcriber's note: fellows?]."
Apparently, Landy took this as a great compliment, for his perspiring face was set in a grin of triumph as he thrust out his tongue at Lil Artha, as much as to say:
"See, Mister Smarty, others appreciate my good qualities if you don't. So just mind your own business, and leave me alone to attend to mine. I'll get there or burst a blood-vessel trying. That's the Smith nature every time."
Having heard Landy talk in this strain many a time the rest of the scouts could easily put these expressions in his mouth, though he was too short of breath just then to give them utterance; looks, however, often count more than mere words.
They had been making splendid progress all this while, and must have covered considerable distance since the time when they watched the official posse wind its way past their hiding-place.
Lil Artha and Elmer had once or twice held a low consultation after making an examination of the tracks they were following.
The others, listening to what the leaders said, found they were comparing notes, and that it appeared to be the opinion of both Hen was getting pretty tired. This they could make out in various ways known to scouts who had made a business of reading the story to be found in tracks.
"You can see how uneven Hen walks most of the time," said Lil Artha; "he wobbles even worse than Landy here, which goes to show he's getting pretty tuckered out. Can you blame the poor fellow when p'raps he's weak from hunger? If any of us had to go without a bite to eat all day we'd get wobbly on our pins, too."
There was no dissenting voice raised to this assertion; eating is so essential to the average boy that nothing on earth can compensate for a dearth of food at the regular intervals.
"Then we saw several places where Hen had sat down to rest, you remember," Elmer reminded the other.
"Yes, and the last time it struck us both that the man had yanked him to his feet again by main force; which I take it wasn't as nice and kind of that bully as you might expect," Lil Artha went on to say.
"Oh! the coward!" Chatz was heard to growl, and the look on his face as he said those few words told what he meant to do if ever the opportunity came his way to strike a blow for the abducted chum.
Filled with renewed determination after this little conference, they once more took up their task. Lil Artha likened their progress to the ways of the Siberian wolf that follows its quarry day and night until in the end its very persistence wins the victory.
"We're in this to the finish," he was fond of saying whenever he had the chance, "and sooner or later we'll get him. The boys of the Wolf Patrol mean to stick to their name, and run the prey to the earth. He just can't get away nohow. All we've got to do is to keep moving, and believe the game is going to come our way. Everybody put his best foot forward again. It's for the honor of the patrol, boys, that we get hold of Hen Condit before the Chief takes him in."
It was now two hours and more since they had started on this new trail. Before this time no doubt the posse must have reached the deserted hide-out, and learned that the birds had flown. Yes, it was even possible that they were coming along the plain trail the seven scouts had left behind them.
Figuring then that the bulky Chief and his men would not exceed their own rate of progress, they could count on almost two full hours' advantage over the others. That surely ought to be an abundance of time in which to carry out their plans, granting that they could overtake the fugitives.
Elmer had again cautioned them to keep still. The swamp was very silent where they now found themselves, and sounds could be carried to some distance under such conditions.
Landy was getting on fairly well, considering a number of things that he had to contend with. Indeed, Elmer meant to tell him as much when he had the chance; for he felt that the stout scout deserved encouragement. What might seem trifles to some of the others assumed the aspect of mountains in the eyes of one who was not gifted with agility by Nature, and had to carry a far greater weight with him than any of his mates were obliged to.
But here was Lil Artha coming to a full stop again. Looking at him the others found that the tracker did not seem to be bending over to examine the trail more closely, as had occurred many times before.
On the contrary, Lil Artha was now raising his head in an expectant attitude. Landy even conjectured that he must be observing a woodpecker boring a hole in some rotten tree-top, and was about to try and follow the supposed line of vision on the part of Lil Artha when he heard him say something.
It was only a brief sentence, but it meant worlds to those tired trail followers.
"I smell smoke—wood smoke at that!" was what Lil Artha hissed, as he continued to sniff vigorously.
It was no time for talking, and everyone realized that fact. If they were close enough to the fugitives to catch the scent of burning wood, the camp could not be far away.
Elmer and Lil Artha seemed to hit upon the same idea at the same time. They took note of the prevailing direction of the wind, and guessed that the fire must be in the quarter from which it was blowing. That was not exactly straight ahead, but a little to the left.
Making motions to indicate extreme caution, Elmer led the way. Now was the time for the scouts of the Wolf Patrol to prove the value of their education. Many times in the past had they practiced this very same difficult feat of creeping up on the camp of an unsuspecting enemy, just as a bunch of red Indians might do; and what they had learned under those conditions was going to prove of practical value to them now.
No one tried to hurry. What was the use, when those they followed had come to a halt, and there was no longer any need of haste?
So they went on yard by yard, straining their vision all the while in hopes of glimpsing the column of smoke, or the crackling flames ahead. In making this advance they were careful to creep along as close to the ground as possible. This was an easy matter for a thin fellow like Lil Artha, but to stout Landy it was quite a different task, though he succeeded in flattening himself out wonderfully well, all things considered.
When finally smoke was discovered, their caution increased, if such a thing were possible. Fortunately, the nature of the ground proved favorable to such work as creeping, there being a certain amount of grass that might be used to conceal their movements.
Pretty soon those in the advance could catch sight of a figure seated on the edge of the bank at a place where the water extended. Back of him the fire smouldered, as though feeding on wood that had been thrown upon it some time before.
It was Hen Condit!
Imagine the thrill that passed through Elmer, Lil Artha and those other fellows when they made this out to be a fact. Pretty soon as they looked they saw that the missing chum seemed to be engaged in industriously fishing, for he had a rude rod in his hand, and baited his hook with some worms even as they watched.
His back was turned toward them, so there was no opportunity for the newcomers to open negotiations with the fellow-member of the Wolf Patrol even should they want to.
And now stretching their necks a trifle more they made another discovery. The man in the case was lying on his back, and so far as they could tell, sound asleep. Apparently, the master could take things easy and rest himself, but the slave must keep constantly employed trying to take in something calculated to satisfy their hunger.
It made Lil Artha grind his teeth when he saw this; and Elmer had to touch him on the arm, as well as shake his head sternly in order to warn him that nothing desperate must be attempted. With victory almost in their grasp they would, indeed, be foolish to ruin things by too much haste.
As motions must from this time on take the place of speech, Elmer began to make use of a beckoning finger to tell the others what their next move should be. This, of course, was a further advance. They must contrive in some way to push closer to the camp, so that when the crisis came, they would be in a position to thwart any move the man might make looking to carrying Hen off with him.
All this had been arranged beforehand, and each fellow knew exactly what part he was to play in the round-up. Lil Artha and Chatz had, indeed, been warned that it would be up to them to make sure Hen did not run away, filled with a fear of the consequences should he be taken, even by his friends.
Advancing in this careful fashion, the scouts had covered many yards, and were now almost within striking distance of the camp. It was at this particular moment that a sudden thing happened calculated to bring matters to a climax.
After all that patient waiting, and rebaiting of his hook, the persistence of the fisherman with the crooked rod was rewarded. He was seen to give a quick jerk, and then with a mighty effort throw a fairly large, shining fish over his head.
No sooner had it landed with a thump on the ground, and commenced to flop furiously, than Hen gave vent to a cry of delight, such as any hungry boy might utter when he found himself favored with a chance to break his long fast.
The sleeping man jumped to his feet as though at first he thought the police had found them out. Seeing the excited boy and the flopping fish, he hurried over to the spot. His first act was to strike poor Hen over the head, and tell him to get busy again if he wanted a bite to eat for himself, because there was only enough in that fish to take the edge off one person's appetite.
Lil Artha came very nearly upsetting all Elmer's plans when he saw this brutal act of the man, for he started to gain his feet, and had to be pulled down by violence, shivering with excitement.
Hen had gone back to his task again, looking thoroughly cowed and disheartened. The man, taking the fish in his hand, held it up as if to admire its looks; then he stepped down to the water as though meaning to clean the prize without any loss of time, possibly spurred on by hunger.
Elmer again began to advance a foot at a time, meanwhile keeping close watch on all that was going on ahead. They had the situation well in hand, their line covering the ground, with the water cutting off escape in one quarter.
Even without those serviceable guns the seven boys might have proven themselves master of the game, for clubs could serve in lieu of better weapons. As it was, Elmer felt positive things must go their way.
Just then, Hen, in turning to reach his supply of bait, chanced to see that line of creeping figures in khaki. The mingled expressions that crossed his face told what a flutter the sight must have brought to his heart.
Elmer instantly put a finger on his lips, and made a gesture warning Hen not to betray them. Perhaps it was just as well, for the poor fellow seemed on the point of crying out in his mixture of joy and fear. He did succeed in making some sort of sound that attracted the attention of the man, who raised his head to growl:
"What ails you now, you young fool? I'm almost sorry I went to the bother of trying to save you from the clutch of the law. What are you complaining about, I'd like to know? Get another fish, if you expect to stave off your hunger; the first of the spoils always goes to the boss."
"I caught my finger on the hook, that's all, Joe," stammered Hen, perhaps telling the truth, too, for in his sudden shock of excitement at seeing his chums he could very well have done such a thing.
"Well, suck it, and get busy doing your work, that's all, while I cook this fish, and perhaps another you may take. Yes, and while you're about it just pray that my appetite will be stayed with this one; for if it isn't, you'll have a small chance for a bite unless they come in faster than they've been doing."
Well, the crisis had passed, and there had been no discovery; but then Elmer was really caring very little now. He only wanted to post his backers a shade better so as to cut off all chance of escape, when he intended opening up the game himself by springing a surprise on the man.
One thing he did mean to look out for, and this was a possible move on the part of the escaped jail bird to lay hold of Hen. Such a man would think first of all how he could use the boy for a shield, while he made terms with the enemy. It was an old trick, which Elmer had known to be used with more or less success when up on that Canadian cattle ranch, where bad men were occasionally met with, who gave lots of trouble before they were rounded up.
Two, three minutes passed.
Elmer did not believe it would be good policy for them to continue to advance any further. He did not wish to get so close to the man that the other could by a sudden rush reach them before they were able to do anything.
By a low hiss he warned his comrades that the critical time had arrived, when every scout would be expected to do his duty.
Then slowly he got up, first on his knees, and then on his feet. Every fellow duplicated his move, so that the entire seven were now standing there, forming a line slightly inclined to resemble the new crescent moon.
And there was Hen Condit turning his head around to stare at them, his face as white as the chalk they were accustomed to use upon the blackboard in school. His eyes were as round as circles, while upon his strained countenance hope, fear, expectation, almost a dozen emotions struggled for the mastery.
"Hello! Joe!" called out Elmer, without the slightest warning.
Up rose the head of the man who was busy cleaning the fish. When he saw those seven khaki-clad figures standing there, with two shotguns bearing directly on his person, he was to all appearances struck dumb for the moment. His eyes stared and his mouth fell open. Fish and knife dropped from his nerveless hands.
"Caught, by thunder! and by a bunch of boys at that!"
These words burst from his lips, after which he started to use some pretty strong language until Elmer put his foot down sternly.
"Stop that kind of talk, Joe!" he ordered. "We've got you rounded up, and there's no use kicking. If you make a move to run, or jump this way, we'll fill you full of bird-shot, do you hear?"
"Both barrels in the bargain, Joseph, mind you!" added Lil Artha, still burning with indignation as he recollected how they had seen the beast cuff poor Hen; and perhaps deep down in his boyish heart actually hoping the other might take a notion to try and get away, when they would be justified in peppering him, after he had run possibly thirty or forty yards.
"Oh! I guess the jig's all up with me, boys," said the man, with a look of sheer disgust on his face. "I've had a little run for my money, but the stone jug seems to be yawning for me. I was a fool to bother with the kid, it seems; but when the scheme came to me at first I thought it too fine to drop. Here's where I get paid for being a silly gump. What do you want me to do, boys? I'll obey with as much cheerful alacrity as I can, seeing that I'm starving to death just now."
"First of all," said Elmer, who had it all mapped out, "lie down on your face and put both hands behind you. We're going to tie you up, and wait for the Chief with his posse to come along. Do you get that, Joe?"
"Sure I do, and since it's Hobson's choice with me here goes. I suppose you fellows must be Boy Scouts. I once organized a troop of the same, but never dreamed I'd be arrested by the khaki crowd. It's all in a day's work, though."
He, accordingly, stretched himself flat on the ground. When they could see that he had his hands held behind his back, and conveniently crossed at the wrists, four of the boys advanced.
"Keep your gun aimed at him, Lil Artha," commanded the scout-master, "and if he tries any funny business let him have it in the legs. Here, Landy, you and Chatz sit on him while I secure his hands."
The man attempted no resistance, for he realized the folly of it. He did groan, however, when Landy squatted down on his legs, and the other fellows could hardly blame him for grunting. It was like a thousand of brick dropping from a second story building, as Lil Artha afterwards described it.
The job was quickly and neatly dispatched, Elmer wrapping his cord many times around the wrists of the prisoner. By this time Joe seemed to have recovered his nerve, and made out to consider the whole thing more in the light of a big joke than anything else.
Meanwhile, there was Hen standing near by, and hardly knowing whether to look delighted at seeing his cruel boss thus being tied up, or show the dreadful fear that was gripping his soul as he contemplated what must follow.
"Cheer up, Hen, old fellow," said Toby, stepping over to grasp his hand; but to his amazement Hen immediately broke down, and began to sob as if his heart were broken.
"You don't know the worst, that's what," he said, plaintively. "That stealing the money from my uncle was bad enough, but oh! will they really hang me for the other? I sure didn't mean to do such a terrible thing when I threw that stone and hit the tramp that day! I've had no peace of mind ever since he told me his pal had really died. He said he'd keep still about it if I'd go with him, and do everything he told me to. And I've just had to, even when I felt sick enough to want to lay me down and die."
"What's this yarn you've been giving the boy, Joe?" demanded Elmer, sternly, as he faced the man, who with his hands tied behind his back had been propped up against a convenient tree.
The man looked at Elmer and then burst into a derisive laugh.
"I knew he was a soft subject when I met him that day," he said, "and I made up my mind I'd work him for fair. He did throw a stone and hit a fellow I was with on the head. We chased after him but he was too speedy for us. Later on when I was all alone I set up that slick game on him, telling him my pal had actually died, and I'd buried him in the woods. Oh! it was almost too easy. He did just whatever I wanted him to. You'll find every cent of the money in my pocket, because I never had a ghost of a chance to spend any of it. That's all, son. Now you understand what ails the silly fool."
Hen Condit had listened to this, at first with that look of abject pain on his face. Then as the substance of the man's confession dawned upon his mind he began to exhibit fresh interest that caused another expression, that of wild hope, to swiftly take the place of despair on his countenance.
"Oh! do you mean then, Joe, that your pal didn't die after all? Please, oh please, tell me that, and I'll forgive you for everything mean you've done to me!" he begged.
"The last I saw of the tramp," the prisoner told him, "he was settled in an empty freight car, and bound for the city. He was as frisky as ever then. I'd have joined him only I didn't want to pull up broke in the city; and I thought there ought to be some rich pickings for a clever crook around these regions. That's where I made my one big mistake. And now I'm going to take my medicine. That's all from me, you hear. Only I say, kid, you're lucky to have such a fine lot of chums to help you out of a bad scrape!"