CHAPTER XIXTHE SURRENDER
“Do you hear him now, Frank?” whispered the Kentucky boy, as they once more halted for a few seconds, and listening eagerly.
“I thought I caught some sort of little rustling sound,” came the answer.
“Which way?” continued Bob.
“There! that was it again!” exclaimed Frank. “Come along, and be careful not to stumble if you can help it.”
That was easy to say, but, to tell the truth, Bob never had a more difficult task set before him. The darkness of the night prevented him from making sure of his footing; and there were so very many of those troublesome vines trailing across the way, that at any second he was apt to catch his foot in one.
Still, he was doing his best to carry out the wishes of his chum. It seemed most important that they should overtake the fellow who had snatched up one of those treasure bags, and was straining every nerve in the endeavor to escape with the spoils which Reddy and Blaisdell had just been about to divide, ere separating.
Of course Bob had sized up the situation ere now. He knew that these two newcomers must be former associates of the three gold thieves. Possibly they had been betrayed, and, feeling that they had been harshly treated, the result was a scheme to call on Reddy at his lone shack, after the affair had been concluded, and secure the treasure for themselves.
The two boys were again advancing. Frank believed he knew just where the suspicious sounds came from; and having mentally located the spot, he now hoped to catch the fellow.
A jack-rabbit bounded out from the bushes, and jumped away. The sound gave Bob a start, for he thought it must mean a sudden rush on the part of the man they were after.
“Only a long-ear!” whispered Frank; for as his arm was in touch with that of his chum, he felt the quiver that passed over Bob.
Even this circumstance had not diverted the attention of Frank from the spot where he fully believed the fugitive was crouching.
Knowing the desperate nature of men who could engage in such a risky business, Bob fully anticipated that he and Frank would be fired upon at any moment. To be sure, this fellow could not know who they were, but must suppose his pursuers were Reddy and Blaisdell. These two would not be apt to show any mercy, should they overtaketheir former friend; and, consequently, the man in hiding would feel that his situation was desperate.
Just as Bob had expected, Frank had a plan that fitted the occasion.
“Stop!” was whispered in his ear, as he felt his comrade bending down.
Frank seemed to be feeling for something or other, perhaps a stone; whatever it was, he had evidently succeeded in finding it, for he immediately straightened up, and Bob knew that his arm was swinging for a cast.
Then came a crash as the stone landed in a thicket some thirty feet below. Instantly there was a bright flash, and the report of a pistol. The crouching fugitive had discharged his weapon, aiming at the spot where he believed one of his pursuers was located.
A second and a third shot followed as fast as he could pull the trigger. Bob heard his chum chuckle as though greatly pleased. This was some more of that woodcraft which played so great a part in the education of a boy born and raised in the West.
They knew now exactly where the fellow was located. That was one good thing. Perhaps another was the fact that he had exhausted half the contents of his revolver.
Bob knew that Frank was stooping again. Hemust be so well satisfied with the result of his first test, that he wanted to make another try.
When he felt his chum rise up again, the Kentucky boy knew what to expect. And this time, if anything, the crash in the bushes was louder than before. The stone had been adroitly cast, so that it should fall a little further on.
Apparently Frank had carried out his little scheme so well that it completely deceived the man in hiding. He must have thought that while his enemy may have escaped serious injury in that first volley, he was now in full retreat.
So the hidden one began again to pull the trigger, and three shots rang out in rapid succession.
Then a silence fell upon the side of the foothills!
Bob heard Frank laugh softly to himself as though quite pleased over the success of his scheme.
“His gun’s empty,” whispered Frank; “I’ve pulled the snake’s fangs. Now for a rush in on him. Ready, Bob?”
“Yes, say when,” answered the other, nerving himself for the concluding act in the stirring little drama.
“Now! Come on!”
At these words Frank sprang forward, with Bob at his side, ready to do his best to assist in the work of rounding up the treasure thief.
They no longer cared to conceal the fact of their coming. Indeed, it seemed to Bob that his chum made more noise than was really necessary as he plunged down the side of the hill toward the spot from whence those flashes had sprung.
“He wants to make the fellow think a whole army is closing in on him, and scare him into surrendering!” was the thought that flashed through Bob’s mind, even as he was leaping forward.
That was just what Frank meant. He knew that the fellow could still give them more or less trouble if he tried to continue his mad flight down the descent. But as he already believed that he had foes beyond, since the stones had crashed in the bushes there, with these new enemies coming down on him from the rear he must feel that he was hemmed in.
“Surrender!” shouted Frank, as gruffly as possible.
“We’ve got you surrounded! No use trying to run away! Better give up!” called Bob, falling in with the idea which he realized his comrade had in view.
They must by now be very near the spot where the unknown crouched. The question which arose was whether he would be seriously impressed with a sense of his position, and surrender or try to escape.
“Nothin’ doing, Reddy; I quit!” a hoarse voicesuddenly shouted, almost under their feet; and at same instant Bob caught sight of a moving figure, dimly seen in the dense shadows.
“Throw up your hands, quick!” snapped Frank, just as he imagined Old Hank Coombs might call out under similar circumstances.
“They are up, as high as I kin get ’em, Reddy, so don’t bother shootin’!” cried the unknown.
“Drop down on your face then, and lie there!” Bob heard his chum order; and he was more than ever filled with admiration for the clever manner in which Frank seemed able to manage things.
The dark, shadowy figure immediately got down on the ground, as though only too eager to oblige. Frank threw himself upon the fellow’s back without wasting any time.
“Get one of his arms here, and help me put this handkerchief around his wrists, Reddy!” he said, still trying to make his voice sound as gruff as possible, in order to keep up the deception.
Bob understood why he did this. If the man imagined for a single second that he had given in to a couple of boys, he might start fresh hostilities, overcome by a sense of rage and humiliation.
So Bob groped for the fellow’s left arm, finding which he drew it back until Frank could cross the two wrists. Then the big and stout bandana handkerchief was wrapped several times around, to be eventually secured by triple knots.
“That ought to hold him fast, Frank!” remarked Bob, who was feeling a sense of satisfaction over the final success that had followed their hot chase down the side of the foothills.
“It will, too,” replied the other, as he took his knee off the back of the unfortunate man. “Now, get up!”
It was not so easy a thing to do, considering the fact that his arms were held fast behind him. The man started to obey, but Bob had to help him. Presently, however, he was on his feet, muttering to himself.
“Bob, you hold on to him, and if he makes the first move to run, trip him up, even if he breaks his nose in falling,” remarked Frank.
“That goes!” answered the other, sturdily, as he secured a grip on the prisoner’s arm that told he meant business.
Frank seemed to be fumbling in his pocket.
“What you going to do, Frank?” demanded his chum.
“I’m after a match,” came the reply.
“Oh! you want to take a look at our prisoner; is that it?”
“Shucks! no, not just now. I’m going to find out where he left that bag,” came the reply, as a crackling sound told he had secured the match he wanted.
When the light flared up the eyes of theprisoner were turned on first one of the saddle boys and then the other. Plainly he was amazed at what he saw. Instead of Reddy and Blaisdell he discovered that his captors were only a pair of lads.
Bob had been curious enough to let his eyes seek the face of the prisoner for a second or two. Not that he was anxious to see how the man looked; but what he thought of the situation.
“Don’t you try to get away, or something will happen that you won’t like, mister,” Bob said, threateningly; for from the disgusted expression on the face of the man he feared that he might make a bolt.
Frank searched as long as the match burned; but, as Bob did not hear him utter any exclamation of satisfaction, he concluded that success had not as yet come to him. The fugitive must have tried to hide the sack of treasure, thinking that if he got away he could come creeping back later on and recover possession of the spoils.
But Frank had other matches. And he was not the boy to let one little failure discourage him. Having covered about all the ground in the immediate vicinity he conceived the idea of retracing their steps, and keeping a bright lookout as they went along.
“Stir him up, and make him go ahead, Bob;” he remarked. “If he tries any funny businessyou know just what to do; and don’t be afraid to give it to him straight.”
Such talk as this was apt to make the prisoner think twice before attempting to escape. He must evidently believe that while his captors might only be boys, they had been in touch with men of the ranch and the mine so long that they knew all the ropes, and were not to be treated lightly.
“Get along!” said Bob.
Grumblingly the fellow obeyed. He seemed to have no choice in the matter, since, with his arms bound, he was practically helpless.
They started up the hill. It was slow work climbing, not nearly so easy as their descent had been. But Frank had an object in what he was doing. From time to time he would strike a match, and take a keen observation. Not a tree trunk escaped him, for he imagined that when the fellow got rid of his bag he would naturally enough fling it behind some such object.
Bob, walking alongside the prisoner, and giving him an occasional punch with his elbow just to remind him that he was on the alert, heard his chum give utterance to a little laugh.
“Found it, Frank?” he cried, all excitement.
“Sure thing,” replied the other, as he stepped to one side; “here it is, sticking out from behind this crooked aspen, just as he flung it. Everything’s all right, Bob, old fellow.”