"MR. GRAY" MAKES NEW TROUBLE
Had Jack Benson started down the slope two or three seconds later he
must have been killed.
As it was, the fearful force of concussion sent him sprawling headlong
on the ground.
A shower of small fragments of rock and of loose dirt fell about him.
Yet Jack was up again, like a flash, never stopping to inquire whether
he had been hurt.
"O-oh!" came the groan, from Hal Hastings.
"There, in a second!" panted Captain Jack, beginning to run again.
A blow sounded, then a fall.
Captain Jack raced into a little, bush-lined hollow, just in time to
see Millard leap up and take to his heels.
Hal Hastings lay on the ground, as though badly hurt.
"Oh, you would, would you?" raged Captain Jack Benson, making a swift
spurt after Millard.
He caught the long-legged one, too, by the back of the fellow's coat
collar.
Yank! Millard was pulled over backward. Down he went, Benson piling
a-top of him.
"Down!" cried Skipper Jack, exultantly. He found, however, that Millard
possessed strength enough to put up a stiff fight.
"Come on, Hal--if you can!" called Jack Benson, sharply.
"Can't--just yet," came, in muffled tones, from the usually prompt Hal
Hastings.
"Let go, you young hound!" ordered Millard, striking out savagely.
Jack hung desperately. Yet the trouble was that the young submarine
skipper had tackled a man who was at least fifty per cent. stronger
and fully as agile.
While Hal still hung back, Millard gave a heave, then rolled himself
over on top of Jack Benson.
"I'll give you just a short lesson!" snarled the long-legged one.
He raised a fist, intent on bringing it down like a sledge-hammer
across Benson's face.
That blow, however, wasn't the one that landed. Biff! whack! Two
sturdy, hard fists registered on Millard's head from behind. Then a
boy shot himself forward, battering-ram fashion, hurling Millard over
to the ground. The boy went with the fellow, landing on top of him.
And that boy was Eph Somers!
"Come on, Jack, if you want some of this!" offered Eph, generously.
Truth to tell, there was need of both the submarine boys, for Millard
now fought more fiendishly than before.
Millard was a powerful fellow, when aroused, but he had pitted against
him two of the doughtiest, gamest boys to be found along the Atlantic
coast. He was pretty well beaten up, in fact, by the time that Hal came
limply upon the scene.
"Want any help?" demanded Hal, in a still somewhat breathless voice.
"Nope!" answered Eph, sturdily. "Not unless you want exercise."
As Somers spoke he landed another blow, this against the "wind" at
Millard's belt-line. In the same instant Jack Benson managed to knot
his hands in the fellow's coat lapels, and to press the backs of his
hands against the wretch's throat.
"I sur--ug-g-gh!--er--render," gurgled the long-legged one, weakly.
"You'd better, unless you want to discover that we haven't yet started
in with rough handling," retorted Eph valiantly.
Young Benson eased his hold on Millard's wind-pipe. Yet all three of
the submarine boys watched their prisoner, cat-like, for any new
outbreak.
"Now, roll over on your face, if you want us to believe you're going to
be good," ordered Jack.
Though he swore, under his breath, Millard obeyed. Then something
flashed in the night--handcuffs that Jack had brought away from his
meeting with Lieutenant Ridder at the hotel.
Click! The steel band snapped into place around Millard's right wrist.
"Hold on--not that!" protested the prisoner, hoarsely.
"Yes; even that!" mocked Eph, picking up a fragment of rock. "And keep
quiet, unless you want me to batter your head in!"
It was this rough, vigorous sea-talk, backed by a belief that young
Somers would prove equal to his threat, no doubt, that made Millard
allow his left wrist to be brought over to meet the right.
"You've got those things on too tight," complained Millard, sullenly.
"No-o-o, I don't think so," retorted Captain Jack, after looking. "We
need 'em as tight as we can have 'em, without causing pain, when we
have a fellow like you to deal with. Now, what was that explosion?"
"Wait a second!" broke in Eph, in a low voice. "Millard had a pal here.
It was the pal I shadowed here. And that pal is running, now, with a
fair-sized bundle that he came here to get."
"He was running when you jumped into this business?" demanded Benson.
"Yes."
"Then the pal is too far away, by this time, for us to catch him by
running after him," decided Skipper Jack. "Now, about that explosion!"
"This wretch had a mine planted up on the hill," explained Hal Hastings.
"I was watching, at the rear, you know, and it happened that I stopped
right close to the hollow where you found me. Then I saw Millard drop
into that hollow, and I took a look-in. I was just in time to see him
bending over to reach for the handle of a magneto battery. Now, I
happened to know that magneto batteries are made for the purpose of
touching off explosives at a safe distance. So I jumped in on him.
Just at that second I heard you, Jack, old fellow, striking with the
shovel up above there. I had to guess fast, so the whole thing
struck me like a flash. Millard had been digging, up there, just to
lead on anyone who might be shadowing him. While you were bent over
the spot where he had been digging, he meant to touch off a mine that
must have been planted and laid days ago. Millard, you rascal, if you
suspected that you were being watched, it was your idea to lead the
shadow out here, get him over that mine and touch it off!"
The prisoner's eyes flashed.
"That was your game, wasn't it?" demanded Benson, angrily.
"Find out, if you can," growled the prisoner.
"You've guessed it, Hal," nodded Jack, then shuddered. "Had I followed
this villain out here alone, and then gone to digging, unwarned, where
I had seen him digging, my remains would have come down in four counties.
But, you mean scoundrel, you never happened to think that you'd be
trailed by three different fellows, all at different points along your
trail."
"This is where my account comes in," interposed Eph Somers. "You
remember the village you sent me to, Jack? Well, all I could find out
was that, a few days ago, a chap named Gray had come along and hired a
little schooner that's about twice as fast as any other sailing craft
in these parts. He hired two fishermen to sail it for him--when he
got ready. His crew have been wondering, since, when he'd be ready.
Since he made the deal, Gray has just been hanging around and doing
nothing."
"My informant pointed out Gray to me. Right after that, I vanished.
But I kept an eye on Gray. When he left the village, so did I. The
trail led up here. Gray went to a pile of dead brush that had been
heaped up. He prowled under the brush, brought out a wooden box that
had been hidden there, and, from the box, took a bundle. He started
off with it. I figured that bundle was what we wanted. I didn't want
to take the chance of tackling him and having him get the best of me,
so I started to follow. Just then I heard the rumpus up here. Maybe
I did wrong, but I figured we could get Gray again, so I hustled up
here to help."
"This wretch, Millard, and I had a pretty rough-and-tumble time of it,"
Hal broke in. "At last, though, he gave me a blow in the wind that put
me right down and out, for a little while. Then he got the handle of
the magneto and pumped it."
"Glad I started down the slope just when I did," nodded Skipper Jack,
dryly. "If I hadn't--well, what's the use of talking about it?"
Forcing Millard to get upon his feet, the boys inspected, first the
magneto battery, to which was attached wire buried in the ground.
Then up the slope they went, to find a miniature crater, some ten feet
deep and at least fourteen feet across, where the mine had been
exploded.
"Say, it's hard, even yet, to understand why I wasn't killed," muttered
Jack Benson. "But here we are, standing here, thinking about ourselves,
when that fellow, Gray, is getting away with a package that we ought to
have. Come along, fellows! And you, Millard, if you try to bold back
on us, you'll learn some new things in the way of discomfort!"
Thus warned, and realizing that his determined young captors were in
a savage frame of mind, the long-legged one didn't try to lag. All
four appeared in the village in which Eph had prowled for information.
The appearance of the handcuffed prisoner stirred up a lot of curiosity.
Eph, however, showed his written authorization for taking Millard in
the name of the United States government, so no one offered the captive
any aid or sympathy.
But the submarine boys met with disturbing news. They heard that a
little more than a half an hour before, Gray, still carrying a big
package, had embarked on his chartered schooner, and had put to sea.
"Had we better charter something and go in chase?" wondered Hal.
"What's the use?" demanded one of the fishermen. "The 'Juanita' is
four miles or more out to sea, by this time, and the night's dark you
couldn't see her. And there's no craft hereabouts fast enough to catch
the 'Juanita.'"
"Besides," whispered Jack, in his chum's ear, "we have no power to
overhaul a craft at sea."
So, making the best of the situation, the submarine boys hired a driver,
horse and wagon at the village, and started on their return to town.