THE TRAP
The following morning the boys rose early. They had had a refreshing
and restful sleep and they were now ready and eager to carry out their
plan. William supervised the preparation of breakfast and each one of
them had a hearty and satisfactory meal. Tom Woods, too, had by now
sufficiently recovered to have a full meal. He even declaimed that
he now felt as well as ever. But the shadows under his eyes and the
paleness of his skin told a silent story of horrible torture.
The agent rose to his feet and stretched himself. He called Paul over
and asked, “Do you mind lending that automatic of yours? And also the
cartridges. I may have to use them.”
Paul surrendered the pistol and ammunition. Several minutes later,
Wallace called out, “I’m ready, Mr. Woods, if you are.”
“I’m also ready, so let’s go.”
Wallace shouldered his knapsack and waving goodbye to the other boys
who were busy breaking camp, he and the agent set off. As for the rest
of the group, just as soon as everything was ready, they set off
for their destination—their old camp ground, which they reached at
about noon. After a fifteen minute rest, lunch was prepared. Paul then
declared a thirty minute rest period, adding, “We have a lot of hard
work ahead of us which must be accomplished before nightfall. So relax,
then we will get to work.”
Ken was left behind to keep guard at camp and put it into order. The
other boys set off, with the cave their destination. When they got
there, Bobolink and Nuthin’ were stationed at strategic points to keep
a careful watch. Paul, Jack and William hid in the shrubbery. Paul
picked up several light stones and threw them at the door of the cave.
Some moments passed. The boys, anxious and determined, breathed hard.
Jack crept forward on his hands and knees and moving so that the door
would act as a shield, he slowly and quietly opened the door wide.
There was no one in the front compartment of the cave and the door
was closed. Jack crept back into hiding and now Paul and William rose
to their feet and stole quietly away. The two boys crossed the stream
and came upon the shrubbery-hidden opening that led to the back of the
cave. Paul crept in; William kept guard. In a short while Paul came
out. “How does it look inside?” William asked.
“The place is just full of wooden cases and boxes. They must have been
here very recently and we missed them.”
“That’s nothing. Since they have their baggage here yet, they will come
back. If not today, then tomorrow or the next day. In the meanwhile,
I’m going back to give Jack the word. Is that all right?”
“Yes. If you two get through with your job first, come and give me a
hand.”
“Very well.”
William disappeared and Paul set to work. Jack was waiting for William
to return and just as soon as he did, the two boys got busy in front
of and around the cave. They worked arduously and quickly. Finally the
boys were done and without hesitating or wasting a minute, they set out
to help Paul whom they met on the way. “You have everything finished?”
the latter asked.
The boys nodded. “And you?” queried William.
“All done.”
“Good.”
The boys returned to their camp. It was already dark when William
appeared. “Well, did anything happen?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “And here?”
“Nothing.”
Early the following morning, Jack left camp. He walked at a steady
rapid pace and in about three hours he arrived at the farm house.
Wallace had told him that Tom Woods would meet him there. He searched
for some sign of the agent and finding none, he entered the yard and
crept stealthily along, aiming for a position which would keep him
in hiding while he had a good view of the road and most of the yard.
He gained his goal and stretched himself out on the ground, prepared
to wait until the agent showed up. Suddenly he felt the presence of
someone close to him. He bounded up from the earth, but Tom Woods
grabbed him and pulled him down again. The man laughed. “It’s all
right, boy,” he whispered.
“Whew! You certainly scared me, Mr. Woods!” Jack exclaimed, heaving a
sigh of relief.
“Just a little foolish playfulness on my part,” the agent stated.
“What’s the news from camp?”
“Nothing happened. The boys did everything they were supposed to and
everything is ready to greet the gang.”
“That’s good. I have a faint suspicion that we won’t have to wait for
them long either.”
“You think they’ll come today?”
“Most likely. Though I wouldn’t swear to it. Nothing is certain, you
know.”
They lay there side by side and conversed in very low whispers. Woods
questioned the boy about his home, his activities, his friends and
all sorts of little details about his life. In return he told many
anecdotes of his experiences. He possessed a very fine sense of humor
and he twisted every story he told into a humorous narrative. He had
Jack giggling most of the time.
It turned out that Tom Woods was wrong and nothing happened that day.
Towards nightfall, he instructed Jack to return to camp, tell the
boys to be ever on the watch and have Wallace come down the following
morning. It was quite dark when he reached camp and he was so tired
that after a sandwich he turned in for the night.
Wallace rose with the dawn and wasted no time getting set for his hike
down the mountain. When he arrived at the farm house, Tom Woods played
the same trick on him as he did on Jack. Side by side, the two lay in
hiding and waited. “What did the boys do yesterday?” asked the agent.
“They kept watch all day long but nothing happened.”
“It will today,” asserted Woods.
All day long they lay in hiding and waited. It appeared as though Tom
Woods was wrong again. But that did not despair him. He continued
telling his humorous anecdotes and kept himself and his companion
cheerful. The sun swung across the horizon. Noon came and passed.
The hours dragged along. Towards five o’clock, the government agent
suddenly broke off in the middle of a sentence; he became very
alert. Wallace felt a cold chill run down his spine. Woods hurriedly
whispered, “Don’t get excited. Stay under cover until I tell you
otherwise.”
A car swung slowly in from the road into the yard. Behind the farm
house, it stopped. Wallace whispered to his companion, “The one at the
wheel—Bud, the stranger.”
Woods nodded. He held the automatic ready. As the car stopped, Bud
jumped out and called back over his shoulder, “Just want to take a look
around. It’ll take me only a minute.”
The agent crept away. Silently he tiptoed from behind the car. Coming
close, he hissed. “One move or sound and you’re dead. Put up your
hands.”
The gangster raised his hands above his head and moved to step out of
the car. As he did so, he made a quick, wild move for his pocket. Woods
swung, hitting the gangster an awful wallop on the chin with the butt
end of his gun. The gangster let out a yell as he went down in a heap.
The agent quickly crawled behind the car. Bud came running from around
the corner of the house and hid himself behind a tree. He waited.
Woods also crouched and waited, but became impatient and fired across
the top of the car. No answer.
Wallace was still lying in the same position and eagerly watched the
proceedings. He was anxious and excited. He wondered what he could do
to help but he realized that for the present the best he could do was
to keep out of the way and let the two fight it out. One of them, he
thought, would surely never leave that yard alive. He only hoped that
everything would come out for the best.
Bud stretched himself out on the ground and began to shoot wildly,
combing the ground. A pause came as the gangster took time out to
reload his gun. Tom Woods took the opportunity to make a dash of
several yards and throw himself behind a pile of logs which he had set
up for the occasion. He shifted his position for two reasons: one was
that the car did not offer a good enough barricade and secondly to draw
the firing away from the direction where Wallace was hiding.
A fraction of a second after he threw himself behind the barricade,
a bullet buried itself in one of the logs. The agent answered it by
sending a bullet that just skimmed the bark of the tree. Tom Woods
waited. He was in a better position than his enemy. Safe behind his
barricade, he also had an open view of the yard and gate and he could
not be taken unawares by anyone coming from that direction. Of course,
he might be surprised by someone coming from the mountain, but that
was unlikely because he could, without endangering himself, frequently
turn his head, and scan the outlying woods and farmland. On the other
hand, Bud was in a precarious position. He had only one alternative and
that was to flee. But to leave his safe position behind the tree was to
invite a bullet from Tom Woods’ gun, which might be fatal. So he also
settled down to watchful waiting. Now while the agent was in no hurry
and had plenty of time, the gangster was anxious and in a hurry to get
to the cave. Without doubt, the government agent had the advantage.
In the meanwhile, Wallace wondered what he could do to help end the
situation quickly in favor of his friend. After Tom Woods took up his
new position, he felt that Bud’s attention would be entirely taken up
by the agent and that he was free to move away from his spot. Crawling
on his belly, he moved slowly and gradually. Finally he came to a
position that placed him to the rear and to left of the gangster. He
picked out a good-sized stone and, rising on his knees, took careful
aim and hurled the missile. Then he fell quickly under cover.
The stone missed its objective and bounced off the tree. However, it
attracted Bud’s attention. The gangster turned quickly and fired twice
in the direction from which he thought the stone came. In doing that,
however, he exposed his arm up to his elbow. The next instant he let
out a most horrible scream. The agent had sent a bullet through the
gangster’s wrist. The pain was real but the intensity of the yell was
a foil. The gangster bounded forward to recover his weapon which had
fallen out of his hand. The next moment he uttered a deep cry and
toppled over. A bullet from Woods’ gun had pierced his throat.
Suddenly everything was silent again. There was a long pause. Tom Woods
lay behind his barricade and waited, while Wallace, in his hiding
place, also did not move. When he thought it was all right, the agent
came out from behind his shelter and called for Wallace to come forward
but to be careful. First they attended the gangster who was knocked out
by Tom Woods. The stricken man, at the first touch, moaned. The agent
put his hand to the man’s jaw and the gangster bounded up as if he had
been struck by an electric shock. Wallace whispered, “You must have
cracked his jaw when you hit him.”
“Guess so. Give me a hand and we’ll carry him to the barn.”
Bud, lifeless now, was also carried to the barn. Removing the clothes
of the two gangsters, the agent and Wallace donned them. Wallace looked
a little ridiculous in his outfit but his companion fixed him up so
that he looked all right. Finally, they tied up the wounded man so that
he couldn’t escape, and tied a handkerchief over his mouth so that he
could not cry out. The two came out of the barn. The agent held one of
the automatics used by the gangsters and said, “Here, you had better
take it boy. It may come in handy later.”
Wallace hesitated but finally he took it and put it into his pocket.
They walked over to the car. All the windows were shattered and one
tire was flat. Wallace said, “A couple of holes in the gas tank.”
Woods looked and then remarked, “We can plug the holes up; they are not
at the bottom of the tank which is something to be thankful for. And we
will have enough gas in there to make the ten miles.”
The two of them set to work. Under the front seat they found tools with
which to remove the flat tire and put on the spare. Getting into the
car, the agent started it up and they were off. Wallace showed him the
road and Woods hurried to get to the cave. After a while, he laughed
and asked, “Well, how did you enjoy the little shooting match?”
“I can’t say that I particularly enjoyed it. It’s too bad that Bud was
killed.”
“I guess you’re right, boy. I don’t enjoy killing anyone either. But
sometimes it just can’t be helped.”
“I guess that’s true, Mr. Woods. But it is too bad that it ever has to
be done.”
“Well, when we get a better social system in which men and women will
have no reason to be dishonest then there won’t be any shooting of
anyone, I guess.”
Wallace had nothing to say, so he kept quiet. After a while, the
government agent said, “When you come to think of it, you had more to
do with the death of that gangster than I did.”
“How do you mean?” questioned Wallace anxiously.
“You threw the stone and forced him to expose himself.”
“Yes, but you did the shooting.”
“Of course, but—well, never mind. Let’s talk of something else.”
They rode along, the agent telling a cheerful anecdote while Wallace
listened.