“It’s so shallow that you could almost wade with your trousers turned up to your knees,” one of the boys declared, but since they all had their leggings on none of them started to try this method of getting ashore.
Hugh, ever thoughtful, gave a few more orders.
“We hope to be back some time to-night,” he told Arthur, who would have to remain behind, “but, in case necessity keeps us from doing it, we ought to take something to eat along to serve as a snack.”
“Well, that’s sensible advice, I must say,” remarked Walter Osborne. “It is tough to lie down to sleep on an empty stomach.”
“I generally lie on my back!” put in Tom Sherwood quickly.
“And that accounts for your snoring so loud,” he was told by one of the others.
Meanwhile the ferrying process was in full blast. When Ned had landed three of the scouts, he hastened back for another lot. After all, it did not take a great while to get those who were going on the tramp ashore, there being four trips necessary, since ten were to make up the party that expected to hike over the hill to the region of the old mill.
“Now I’m going to put the trip in your hands, Don,” Hugh said, as the entire party stood on the bank. “Look out for my motorcycle, will you, Ned, while I’m off? And if there is any chance for rain get some sort of cover over it if you can. So long as it’s so new and shiny I hate to get any part rusty. So-long, and here’s hoping we’ll all come back as sound of limb as we start out!”
“Same here, Hugh, and fellows. The best of luck go with you. If you come home by way of the hill, give us the signal when you’re up there, so we can have the dinghy ashore and waiting,” and as the party trailed along by twos and threes, with Don and Hugh in the lead, Ned waved his hand after them.
They were soon busily engaged in climbing the hill. Don kept on the alert, for he did not want to make any error of judgment now that the scout master had given him free reign. He had paid strict attention to many features of the landscape when going and coming on that other day, as a true scout is always expected to do when on the move, and in this way it seemed almost as though he were following a blazed path.
Now and then they could look back when an opening occurred, and secure glimpses of the winding river and the broad stretch of water where Raccoon Island lay. Once they caught sight of the two scouts in camp, who had evidently glimpsed their moving forms, for they were waving their hats. The sound of their cheers also came, borne on the wind up to the high spot where Hugh and his comrades had stopped for a minute to get their breath, as the summit of the hill was still above.
All of the boys were young and vigorous. They had also had more or less experience in mountain climbing, so that their muscles were fairly hardened to the exercise.
“The top of the ridge!” announced the guide as he came to a fourth pause, and perhaps at another time some of the scouts might have thought it their duty to raise a cheer at hearing how they had surmounted the difficult climb; but they knew better than to start anything of that sort now without orders from the chief.
Scouts on duty must refrain from giving expression to their feelings, leaving all that to the time when they are at play. They are expected always to keep their wits about them, and to exercise judgment.
It was down-grade after that, and much easier for making their way along. Don was showing commendable ability in following the return tracks of himself and Arthur, for they had saved considerable time and distance in coming back, having learned where short cuts might be made.
“We are getting close to the mill, Hugh,” announced the Fox leader, after some more time had elapsed, during which they had made good progress.
“Here, what’s this right now over here?” asked Bud Morgan.
“It’s a little stream,” Ralph Kenyon volunteered, “and like as not the overflow of the mill pond. I’ve never happened to get over in this part of the country while setting my traps for mink, otter, skunk, foxes and the like in winter, so you see I can’t post you as I might were we on my old stamping grounds. But from the specks of foam on the water here I should say it has come over a dam not far away from this spot.”
“Just what I thought, Ralph,” said Tom Sherwood. “If that’s the case, I reckon we’d all of us better close our potato traps and talk low.”
“The mill is still some distance away,” Hugh told them. “I know because that foam comes from the creek tumbling down among those rocks yonder. Don, you’ve been here before, how about it?”
“Won’t get there for nearly ten minutes according to my figuring,” came the ready response that proved the reasoning of the scout master to be nearly accurate.
“And I should think we’d only have to follow up this little stream to strike the mill,” suggested Walter Osborne.
“That was what we laid out the other day,” Don told him, “and it turned out all right. So, as I’ve luckily managed to bring you over the rise and within touch of the mill, I’ll only too gladly turn over things to Hugh here. He knows the lay of the land, I wager, and——”
“’Sh! drop down, everybody, behind these bushes!” whispered Hugh. “I saw something moving over yonder, and chances are the hoboes have broken loose!”
These low words coming from the scout master caused a general “ducking” on the part of the scouts. Every fellow carried out the tactics of screening himself from observation according to his individual notion. This one dodged behind an adjacent tree, another curled up back of a friendly bush, while a third might have been seen hugging the ground, with his nose touching the virgin soil. Possibly this latter class believed, like the foolish ostrich, that, as long as they could not see anything, their bodies must also be concealed.
And after all it turned out to be a false alarm. Hugh himself was the first to ascertain that it had been a rabbit bounding away that had disturbed his peace of mind, and caused him to give that sudden warning.
“It’s all over, fellows, and no damage done,” the scout master told them in his cautious way, though at the same time he could not help smiling at the ridiculous attitudes assumed by some of the scouts in their wild endeavor to hide. “Only a scared little bunny, as it turns out. We’ll go on where we left off.”
Immediately every boy straightened up again, and tried to look as though he knew all along that it was nothing worth mentioning. Several pretended to be looking on the ground, just as though they believed they had dropped something. A few, however, colored up, and allowed sheepish grins to decorate their faces.
It was not very long before Hugh realized that the scenery began to look rather familiar to him. This would indicate that they were getting close to the place in which he had left Billy, Monkey, and Gusty Merrivale.
Now Hugh did not wish to lead the entire command too near the mill. Something might happen to betray their presence before things had been properly arranged to surprise the robbers.
Under such circumstances, if the “mountain will not come to Mahomet, why one must go to the mountain,” an old Eastern proverb says. Accordingly, Hugh held up his hand to signify that every one was to drop down and lie low. Then he started in to make a sound that was similar to the grunt of a hedgehog searching for succulent roots under the trees.
Every once in so often the scout master would grunt, and then wait. He fancied that either Billy or his mate would catch the sound, for which they must have been listening more or less anxiously for a long time past. And as all these things had been arranged beforehand, the boys would know that it meant they should begin to back away, so as to place a little more distance between themselves and the ramshackle building that sheltered the enemy.
Five, six, seven minutes passed thus. Then, during one of the waits between the giving of the signals, there came a troubled grunting from a copse near by, which told Hugh the others must be coming. He encouraged them by getting part way up on his knees, and waving his red bandana handkerchief three times.
Immediately afterward a figure came stealing toward the concealed scouts, which turned out to be Monkey. When Hugh discovered two others following cautiously in the wake of the leader, he breathed easier. Perhaps, while on the way over to the island camp and back, he may have had more or less fear that some accident would betray the three boys to the wary tramps. The consequences would, of course, be very unpleasant.
Soon the trio had joined the balance of the boys, and, crouching among the bushes, they shook hands all around. Why, even Gusty Merrivale persisted in clutching the digits of these friendly fellows! Circumstances beyond his control had placed the rich man’s son in a position where things began to assume a new aspect in his eyes, and the sensation in his heart was so very gratifying that he allowed himself to give way to it entirely.
Hugh, believing that they should all work together, had Don Miller and Walter Osborne as leaders of the Foxes and Hawks get their heads close to his and discussed the situation from many angles.
On the way across country, while he and Don were keeping at the head of the hiking party, the scout master had asked many questions. Of course he knew something concerning the outside of the mill for, at the time he had taken that one scout around the place, he had made sure of surrounding conditions. Then Don had been all over inside when he and Arthur had roved this way, and he was in a position to tell how the place was arranged. Don was a careful, wideawake scout who had long since learned the value of keeping his wits about him, not knowing when it might prove advantageous to his interests to be able to describe what he had seen.
Consequently he had been able to draw something of a map of the interior of the mill, tell where the rusty and worthless machinery lay, and also just about where passing hoboes had always bunked, as the remains of many a cooking-fire proved.
Beckoning to Billy to draw near, Hugh asked him if anything out of the way had happened while he was gone. Nothing had apparently, according to the report of the Wolf scout. Once or twice they had seen a movement in the vicinity of the mill, as a hobo came out to take a suspicious look around, or perhaps gather up an armful of wood to keep the fire going until the time came to cook another scanty meal. But, as the three lads faithfully kept securely hidden, their presence in the vicinity had not been suspected so far as they could say.
The afternoon was pretty well gone. It began to look as though there was not the slightest chance for them to return to the island camp until another day had dawned, even if the shift might be made then. Billy understood this, and, as he was a great feeder, he became very solicitous to learn whether the boys had been thoughtful enough to provide against an enforced stay there by the mill. He also wanted to know if they had remembered that he and Monkey, and probably Gusty also, possessed something like an appetite; and whether the material to stop this squeamish feeling down below had been carried along.
He was made happy by having several of the boys assure him that they had stocked up with more than one ration, so that soon Billy figured he would have no end of a good time making way with the extra provisions.
“Nothing doing until it gets dark, seems like,” Billy told some of the others, for having been in consultation with the patrol leaders, he had managed to pick up information in regard to the decision reached in the council of war.
“And that strikes me as a mighty clever thing,” remarked Bud Morgan. “An attack like this is always apt to be successful when made under cover of the night.”
“Yes,” added Cooper Fennimore quickly, “in all the stories of border warfare I ever devoured, the Injuns always waited till a short time before dawn to rush the block-house. Seems like folks sleep heaviest just before day breaks, though any old time is good enough for me to get in seven winks.”
“But I don’t think Hugh means to wait till that late,” Billy told them. “From the smattering I managed to pick up, it seemed that they had figured on creeping up as soon as night set in, and starting things to working.”
Bud Morgan gripped his bat with vigor.
“Can’t come any too soon to suit me,” he muttered. As a rule Bud was not of a vindictive nature, but he could see that the Merrivale boy had not only been robbed but cruelly hammered by the fists of the two ugly hoboes and it riled the scout considerably.
“Let’s see,” mused Billy, while waiting for the patrol leaders to complete their plans and announce the method of working to the rank and file, “all told there are how many of us on deck?”
“A dozen, no, just thirteen, counting Gusty here, who looks as if he were in a humor to do his part in the fight, if there is one,” observed Tom Sherwood.
“Um, thirteen is said to be an unlucky number, too,” grumbled Billy.
“Don’t let that bother you any,” Jack Dunham told him. “I haven’t a single ounce of superstition in my make-up, and only wish it was Friday, the thirteenth of the month, into the bargain. I hate all that clap-trap so much that I always try my best to start things on the bad luck day. And so far there hasn’t any trouble swooped down on me. In fact, I’ve had more than my share of good luck.”
“Mebbe you carry a charm in your pocket—the left hind leg of a rabbit that has been shot in a graveyard at midnight in the full of the moon,” suggested Monkey Stallings mischievously, at which Jack only snorted and curled his upper lip, as though he could not find words to voice his contempt for such foolishness.
“There’s the sun setting, boys,” remarked Blake Merton uneasily, for he had never been very much of a hand in any rough and tumble game like football or hockey, and secretly would have remained just as well satisfied had Hugh picked him out to stick in camp with Arthur Cameron and Ned Twyford.
“Bully for the sun!” Bud declared, shaking his head aggressively. “The old chap knows when he isn’t wanted.”
“He knows a good thing when he sees it, anyhow,” added Billy yawning, for he dearly loved to sleep, and the idea of the sun going to rest for something like nine hours appealed to him very much.
“The council is breaking up,” Ralph Kenyon whispered.
“That’s right!” said Sam Winter of the Otters. He picked up the rather tough looking cudgel, which he had managed to secure while on the way across the ridge, and at the same time a flash of excitement came into his eyes.
“I’m going to make a very important suggestion to the scout master when he has told us what our part in the game will be,” Billy remarked. The others eyed him respectfully, wondering what sagacious idea had come into the mind of this comrade who was a boon companion of Hugh’s.
But now the three patrol leaders came up. Hugh made motions intended to gather all the others in a close clump, because he did not wish to speak any louder than could be helped. Though they had selected a retired spot in which to gather and consult, there was always more or less danger of being overheard. Sounds sometimes travel remarkably far in the woods, especially just as dusk steals out from the shadows and starts to envelop all Nature in her mantle.
“This is what we’ve fixed on, fellows,” began Hugh, who never made a practice of using twenty words when ten would answer the same purpose. “Don knows a way by which some of us can crawl into a sort of loft that lies just above the place the two tramps will use for sleeping, because of a layer of straw he saw there. I’ll let him take four of the best climbers with him—they will be Monkey, Ralph, Sam, and Blake Merton. The rest of you will stick by me, and we hope to get fixed so that when the signal is given the scouts will drop and tumble in on those hoboes, hobbling them by sheer numbers, so that they won’t have so much as a chance even to use their fists, much less their guns. Get that, do you?”
“As plain as print, Hugh,” advised Bud Morgan, “but what’s the battle sign going to be, so every one of us may be keen to sense the signal and act on the flash?”
“When Don has placed his force just as he wants it, he’ll scratch four times on the floor just like a gnawing rat might happen to do—four times, no more or less, remember, Don. Then, after waiting about a minute or so for every fellow to get a full breath, I’ll give a whistle. Of course that will startle the men, but we calculate to be tumbling in on them pell-mell before they can begin to get up. Divide your squad, Don, so that at least two will drop with a squash on that short rascal, because I rather think he’ll prove the harder one to knuckle under.”
“And do we have the privilege of using these, if necessary?” asked Bud, holding up the home-run bat which was his special property, and had been brought along on the camping trip in anticipation of some lucky chance for a game.
“Only in case of absolute necessity,” Hugh replied soberly. “Don’t forget that you are first of all scouts, and pledged to try every other means before resorting to force.”
“Is that all settled then, Mr. Scout Master?” asked Billy eagerly. “Because if you’ve no other directions to give us, I’d like mighty well to make what I consider a very important suggestion.”
The rest of the boys pricked up their ears. It was not often that good-natured Billy Worth conjured up any important idea in that rather easy-going brain of his, and they were more than curious to hear what it might be.
“All right, Billy, let us have it,” the scout master told him, “and if it sounds good to me, I’ll be only too glad to incorporate it in the program.”
“Then if you stop and think what time of day this is, Mr. Scout Master, perhaps you’ll remember that some of the boys are right now lugging a whole lot of stuff around with them that would be doing a heap more good if placed where it properly belongs. In other words, what’s to hinder us from eating our suppers while waiting for it to get dark enough to cover our move?”
Several of the scouts began to snicker, but no one looked unhappy. The truth of the matter was that every fellow was willing to confess that he had a vacancy in his system that was crying out to be filled, and they had long ago learned in school that Nature abhors a vacuum.
Even Hugh chuckled, as though the idea was not displeasing.
“That’s a sensible remark of yours, Billy,” he said readily enough, “and after all, we’ll feel better qualified to do great deeds if we strengthen our systems with our regular feed that comes along about this time every evening. So I’ll appoint you a committee of one to ask the fellows to divvy up. And, please, no talking while we eat, unless it’s in whispers. This is no time for joking, you know.”
Billy found no great difficulty in getting the boys who carried the “snacks” to place them in a great heap in front of Hugh. It looked like a tremendous amount of provisions when every fellow had unloaded; but when one remembered that thirteen lusty boyish appetites had to be satisfied, that mountain of bread and crackers and cheese did not seem so alarming after all. In fact, it would be next door to a miracle if a shred of food remained when all would announce themselves contented.
There was a busy time for thirteen pairs of jaws for the next quarter of an hour. And, after that, no one found any reason to complain because of having to carry rations, since there wasn’t so much as a single sandwich left to give them trouble.
It was almost dark.
These lads were accustomed to camping out, and believed that they knew nearly all about the many sounds likely to be heard in the woods around that region. However, the fact that stories had been told about the old mill being haunted gave several of them an uneasy feeling.
Since few persons ever came up here, there having been no grist in the hopper of the mill for many years, Nature had taken back her own. Everywhere bushes, vines, briars and weeds abounded, and the little wild animals frisked about under the trees as though they looked upon that spot as their especial domain.
Night birds, too, began to croak and utter their various doleful cries, particularly a family of screech owls that called to one another with whinnies and long-drawn loving notes.
Then there was the constant fretful murmur of the water, dripping over the moss-covered wheel of the mill, or forcing a passage through crevices of the dam. Taken all together, things conspired to make some of the boys shrug their shoulders, and keep rather close to their mates under the conviction that there is strength in union.
Besides all this they could not forget that they meant to assail a couple of “tough nuts,” as Billy called the pair of hobo yeggmen in the mill. This alone was sufficient to strain their courage, for they were but boys.
Every one was pleased though, when the word came to start moving. Action is far preferable to lying idle and suffering the pangs of anxiety and uncertainty.
Each scout seemed to feel that he was on his mettle to do his level best. Gusty Merrivale took pattern from the rest, and really acquitted himself in a way to satisfy Hugh that he had the elements to make a good member of the troop, if he still continued to cherish his present desire to join them later on.
Soon they could catch fugitive glimpses of a faint gleam of light ahead. Every one knew without being told that this must proceed from some dusty window of the mill. The men inside had a fire going in place of a lamp or a candle. They possibly did not like the cobwebbed interior of the place any too well, and did their best to make it seem a bit more cheery by keeping the blaze going, even after their supper had been disposed of.
This pleased the scouts very much, for it showed them how things lay. There was less likelihood of any slip happening when those against whom they were opposed arranged matters so that they could be constantly seen.
Gradually the entire squad had gained a place close beside the mill. Those who had been picked out to accompany the leader of the Foxes had been warned to be very careful of their footing. In order to reach the outer shed from which they expected to attain the loft, they would be compelled to pass over the wet and slippery apron of the dam for several yards.
Should an unlucky scout manage to lose his footing, while crossing the heavy planks at this point, he might take a plunge that he would never forget. Instead of capturing the tramps, his mates would have their work cut out for them in rescuing him from a watery grave in the deep pool that lay below.
There was one thing on which Hugh relied to help him out. This was the constant noise of running water which he expected would cover up any misplay on the part of a clumsy scout.
Leading his own detachment, Hugh made his way carefully to the broken-down door of the mill. No one of the various casual lodgers entertained of recent years in the abandoned structure had ever made the slightest effort to repair the door or smashed windows. All they cared for was a fairly decent roof over their heads that would shed water in a heavy rain.
In consequence, there was no trouble in finding an entrance to the building. Hugh, of course, did not push in without first taking an observation. He had learned caution as one of the first things after joining the scouts, and he knew the folly of not looking before leaping in the dark.
The fire was at the other end of the mill. He could see moving figures there as though the tramps were not yet ready to settle down to sleep. Hugh only hoped that no sudden thirst would cause one of the men to think of starting outside while he and the eager squad at his back were creeping stealthily toward the fire.
One by one, the boys crossed the doorsill like so many shadows. Gusty came last of all, not that he was asked to bring up the rear, but simply because he realized that he did not know as much about these things as the fellows who had been practicing scout tactics for months. It was a new departure for Gusty to admit so much even to himself, and showed the startling change that was being effected in his once overbearing disposition.
Now they were all inside, and so far everything had gone well. Not a fellow had tripped, or as much as made the least sound that could have reached the ears of the two tramps. Counting himself, Hugh had eight fellows in his bunch; Don carried just five. Surely they ought to be able to overwhelm the enemy by sheer force of numbers unless they managed unfortunately to get in each other’s way. This was what Hugh wished to avoid most of all. He had even tried to give each member of his force a certain place in the line so as not to interfere with the rest.
Hugh led the advance. He used his eyes to good advantage in order to locate each and every possible source of cover, so as to profit by the same. Trailing in his wake came the others, striving to copy every movement made by their leader, for they knew that Hugh was a master hand at such things.
The hoboes seemed to be taking things as easy as they possibly could. They lay there stretched out at full length, smoking their black pipes, and exchanging occasional words. No doubt they had canvassed their plans for the immediate future, and had everything laid out ahead, never dreaming that danger lay near at hand.
Gusty, coming along in the rear, found himself unaccountably moved as he crept after one of the scouts. His initiation into some of the exciting episodes that are likely to come the way of active members of a patrol had been unusually thrilling. He was having the best time of his life, and he realized that after all he had it in him right along to participate in such delightful happenings, though never until the present awakening to the fact.
Meanwhile Hugh, in the van, had decided just where he and his followers must come to a halt. They could not get quite as close to the lounging men as he would have liked. He expected the scouts in the loft to be in a position to strike the first blow.
They were no longer moving at the pace which had marked their entrance into the old mill. A snail could hardly have wriggled along slower than Hugh was doing at this stage of the proceedings, so at least Bud Morgan thought. Bud, however, had always been inclined toward haste in most things he undertook. Therefore, he could be hardly looked upon as a good judge.
At a previous time there had been a half-hearted attempt made to start operations, looking to rebuilding the falling walls of the abandoned mill. It had been given up as hopeless, but, at the same time, quite a pile of stones had been carried into the place. By good luck it came about that this heap was just where it could be utilized by the scouts. Indeed, it had served them as a splendid cover more than half the time while they were creeping forward.
Behind it they ranged, still on their hands and knees. The fire flickered, and occasionally snapped as some brittle section of wood was greedily seized upon by the flames. Deep and harsh sounded the voices of the lounging tramps. Lazily the wreaths of smoke curled upward from their pipes.
Hugh was fully awake to making his arrangements while the chance remained. He had it fixed so that about half of his force hovered near one end of the rock pile, while the rest waited close to the other termination.
Some of the scouts were holding themselves in just such positions as they would have assumed had they been entered for a fifty-yard sprint, and at the sound of the pistol expected to fairly shoot away. They crouched low, with their finger tips placed on the rough deal planks of the floor of the mill.
Every fellow was wondering how Don Miller and his four climbers might be making out. They had had ample time, it would seem, to cover the ground; and it was to be hoped that not many more minutes would elapse before the scratching of the imaginary rat four times would tell Hugh that all was ready.
If ever boys were keyed up to top-notch fever, those seven were who lay back of the friendly rock pile, and counted the passing seconds. Every nerve in their whole bodies seemed on edge. Small sounds were terribly magnified; and several times one or the other of them would fancy that he had caught the eagerly expected signal from the leader of the Fox patrol up there in the dense gloom of the loft just above where the tramps lay on their hay.
Oh! it was cruel the way Don Miller held off! Could anything have happened to upset his share in the general plan? Had one of his command slipped on those mossy and slimy planks of the dam, and fallen in? Since they had heard nothing that sounded like an alarm it did not seem possible.
And then at last it came—one, two, three, four—plain scratches, as though an industrious rat had set himself a gigantic task.
It was time!
Every one of those eight boys plainly heard the long awaited sounds, even Gusty, who was quite as anxious as any of his new friends. Immediately each wearer of a soiled khaki suit followed the instructions of their leader, and drew in a full round breath so as to be ready for the next act in the little drama. This would come in the form of action, if their program could be followed out as closely as it was intended to be.
A few seconds ensued. Plainly Hugh had himself well in hand, and would not allow anything to rattle him. Before giving the signal that would precipitate a startling change in the situation, he wished to make sure that the two lounging tramps had not taken the alarm because of the scratching sounds.
This was quickly settled. The shorter fellow did raise his head a trifle as if he may have considered that it was an unusually methodical rodent that bit into the wood with such regularity. But then as the men had been eating, and doubtless crumbs of food must have been scattered about on the floor, perhaps it was this that had excited the sleek little animal on the other side of the wall.
Wandering Willies as a rule become accustomed to having rats for bed fellows on many occasions, so that there is nothing about the presence of such vermin to dismay them. The shorter tramp only maintained that listening attitude for a brief spell; then he once more dropped back and resumed his easy position.
Hugh knew it was time. He felt sure that Don Miller and those with him up in the dark loft had measured their distance, and were in a position to drop directly upon the recumbent rascals underneath.
He had pursed up his lips ready to give the whistle agreed on, and no sooner was the squatty hobo reclining again at full length than it came. Clear and sharp the sound rang out. No bugle call, ever blown, brought about a speedier result.
Every scout was instantly in action. The boys who were so impatiently waiting in the shelter of that rock pile, shot forward like so many agile panthers, and every fellow was aiming to project his form straight at the spot where the tramps had been stretched out at their ease.
Of course the wary rogues realized that they were about to become the victims of some sort of cleverly arranged trap. The first glimpse they had of khaki-clad figures bouncing up like a flock of sheep, and even filling the very air must have given them the startling idea that they were attacked by a regiment of State’s troops. They had no time to grasp the situation, for already boys were plunging recklessly down from the loft over their heads, and alighting full upon the men, not giving them a chance to get to their knees, much less their feet.
In three seconds the scene was a wild one, indeed. Half a dozen scouts seemed to be fairly covering each of the tramps, striking and dragging and hanging on like crazy leeches. The strong men tried as hard as they could to get up, but to no avail. Above the tumult the clear trumpet tones of the scout master could be heard urging his followers to hold on like grim death, and cheering them on, at the same time doing his level best to keep the flail-like arms of the hoboes from damaging any of the boys.
“Surrender, both of you, or you’ll get the worst pounding you ever knew!” shrilled Billy Worth, as he kept bringing both his fists down on the head of the shorter rascal very much after the style of a rapid-action pile-driver.
Bud Morgan was much in evidence with that baseball bat of his. He did not have the heart to use it upon the craniums of the men, but kept shoving them backward again and again when it looked as though they might get to their feet in spite of the various figures clinging to their arms and legs.
This sort of thing lasted for perhaps a full minute. It may have been much more than that, for no one was in a position to take note of the passage of time, being wholly occupied with the work of attack and defense.
With half a dozen-boys busily employed in mixing things up for each of the men, the tramps soon had enough of the mêlée. First the tall fellow gave tongue to indicate that he would be glad to surrender, at which Hugh told him to fall flat on his face so they could secure his arms behind him. Then the other, seeing how hopeless it was to try and ward off a reinforced army, hastened to do likewise.
After they had both been secured with the stout cords Hugh had been wise enough to carry along, being parts of the very rope used to lower Gusty to the ledge where the scouts found him, all of the boys breathed easier.
Billy fairly hugged the scout master in the exuberance of joy.
“We did it!” he panted, not having yet been able to recover fully from his violent exertions. “They’re our prisoners of war, Hugh, taken in fair battle! Hurrah for the Boy Scouts, say I!”
Up to this point things had been so dreadfully mixed that the hoboes had not been able to understand what it all meant. When Billy thus gave voice to his pent-up feelings, the shorter rascal rolled over on his back, raised his head as well as his bound condition would allow, and took a good look at their captors. Then he laughed harshly as though completely disgusted.
“Say, wot d’ye know about it, Pete? We’ve gone an’ got cotched by a parcel o’ kids, arter all! Me to the pen arter this. I’d be afraid o’ bein’ left alone in the dark for fear o’ ghosts. Sure we’re a couple o’ greenies to let Boy Scouts round us up. I wish somebody’d kick me, so’s to find out if I’m awake or only dreamin’.”