AT THE CAVE AGAIN
By the time all the boys had washed and dressed, William had breakfast
ready. Most of them were tense and impatient, but on the whole, they
felt good. Leaving Jack behind to keep guard at the camp and clean up
the dishes in the meanwhile, the boys set out for the cave. At their
destination, the boys separated, each going to his station where he lay
in hiding and watched. As the hours passed slowly and wearily, most of
the boys became a little cranky and impatient. Paul decided to go from
boy to boy, talk to him for a while and try to calm him.
At noon, Bluff was sent back to camp and Jack returned with sandwiches
he had prepared and canteens of ice cold water from the stream. Paul
went to each boy in turn and passed out the sandwiches and a drink of
water. And again it became a matter of watchful and patient waiting.
Jack, lying close to Paul, asked, “You think they’ll come today?”
“It’s hard to tell. But they are about due.”
“Mr. Woods thinks that they will surely appear today.” Pause. Deadly
silence except for the breeze fluttering through the branches and
leaves. “You know,” Jack added, “this is getting on my nerves already.
I’d like to see it come off and be through with it.”
“Patience, Jack,” his friend continued, “you can’t hurry a situation
like this.”
Paul moved away and went to keep someone else company for a while.
At about six o’clock, Jack, who was watching the road, was suddenly
brought out of his lethargic position. Sprawling on the ground, he
thought he heard the sound of a motor. Putting his ear to the earth, he
listened for some moments to the rumbling sounds that came to his ear.
The car was several hundred yards away yet when he spied it. Quickly
and noiselessly, he picked himself up and sprinted away. He came upon
Paul and told him the news. Not hesitating in the least, Paul told him
where to take up his position and what to do. Then Paul ran on and
passed the word for all of them to be on the alert.
Paul returned and took his place beside Jack. As they waited, every
second seemed to stretch out into an hour. Those who were in the
car—whoever they were—were apparently in no hurry. Finally, after
what seemed an endless wait, Paul nudged Jack and pointed out two
moving figures. Holding their breaths, they watched and waited. The
boys were quite positive that the moving figures would head for
the clearing and cross it. Then they were greeted by a surprise—a
shocking surprise—that awaited them. But they were disappointed. Jack
whispered, “They’re heading this way.”
“Yes. You think they have any suspicion of what’s awaiting them?”
“I don’t think it matters. Our plan takes care of anything that might
be different than we expect.”
The boys kept quiet. Two figures passed within five feet of them. Jack
began to fidget as the figures were passing. Paul had a hard time
controlling him, keeping him from talking. As the two men passed, Jack
whispered, “There’s something familiar about the fellow in the lead;
something about his walk.”
“I was just going to say the same.”
The boys held their breaths. As the two men approached one of the
traps, they stopped. Some whispering went on between them, as though
one was explaining something to the other. A minute later, the one who
had been doing all the explaining, put his fingers between his lips and
gave a low, shrill whistle. Jack wanted to jump up and run over. “The
one who whistled is Wallace,” he whispered as Paul held him.
“Most likely is, but let’s wait and make sure.”
There was a pause of a minute or so. Again the man whistled, then
they both waved handkerchiefs. Paul and Jack then came out of hiding
as they finally recognized Tom Woods and Wallace. Jack was sent to
notify the other boys and to instruct them to continue their watch. In
the meanwhile, the three of them withdrew to take counsel together.
The government agent said, “You boys have it all fixed up here. A man
couldn’t get away to save his life. I think you have done marvelously
well.”
Paul smiled. “We have laid our plans very carefully,” he answered, “and
we hope everything will come off all right.”
“I hope so too.”
Just then an airplane fell out of the sky and dived straight for the
ground. Straightening out at about five hundred feet up, the plane
circled the field several times. Wallace whispered, “That’s the same
plane we told you about. We saw it land here once before. I remember it
well.”
Tom Woods barked, “Keep quiet now and don’t move; we may be seen from
above.”
“No chance of that, sir,” answered Paul. “From up above they can’t see
a thing except the top of the trees. We had better hurry and take our
positions before they land.”
With Paul in the lead, the three of them sprinted from cover to cover
and took their positions. At the last moment the government agent
told the boys to hurry and move away somewhere else—take some other
position. If there was any shooting, he didn’t want them to be in line
of fire.
The boys moved off. The plane in the meanwhile had glided down to a
landing. It was quite a large, powerful ship with a double motor.
Two men jumped to the ground. The one in the lead was recognized by
the boys as the Chief. Very unconcernedly, the two walked across the
clearing and headed directly for the cave. As they came to the edge of
the woods, the chief, for no reason and without any provocation as far
as it could be determined, whipped a gun out of his pocket and fired
across the top of the cave. Tom Woods, who thought that he was firing
at one of the boys, sent a bullet whistling past their heads. The
trap which the boys had laboriously prepared and set was now a futile
gesture. Whereas if they had walked into the trap as set, there would
have been no bloodshed; now it seemed inevitable.
The two gangsters now dropped to the ground and sent bullets whistling
in a semi-circle. To rise and dash back to their plane was suicide.
They would be in the open, a clear and perfect target for Tom Woods’
bullets. On the other hand, dropping to the ground and taking shelter
where they did, they forestalled being surrounded by the boys. As for
the government agent, there was nothing he could do to obtain a more
advantageous position. Of course, he could have one of the boys keep up
a withering fire while he crept to their side or their rear. But he was
against risking the life of any one of the boys.
For a while only occasional shots were exchanged. Suddenly Tom became
aware that the two gangsters had devised a means of escape, if not
for both, at least for one of them. The two were separating, moving
further apart slowly and gradually. The agent realized that their plan
was to separate a certain distance, so that one of them would keep
him occupied while the other crept back to the plane. It was a clever
and subtle plan and from every indication it appeared that they would
succeed. They were also most probably aware that only one man faced
them. Under that condition, there was nothing Tom could do that would
prevent the one who got back to the plane from returning with help. Or
possibly he might bring out of the plane a machine gun, and that would
be enough to wipe him out. He became really worried. What could he do
to prevent one of them from reaching the plane.
He determined that as long as it was possible for him to do so, he
would fire alternately at both racketeers and occupy both of them. He
also wondered what the boys were doing. “But,” he thought to himself,
“I had better keep from thinking of anything else and concentrate my
attention on those two gangsters. I’m positive the boys will be able to
take care of themselves.”
Tom noticed that slowly and gradually the gangster on his right was
moving backwards, and each time he fired at the moving form, he was
answered by the second man, the one on his left. The spasmodic shooting
kept up for almost half an hour. Suddenly there was heard the roar
of the airplane motor; in an instant, the machine was turning into
the wind and taxiing for a take-off. Both Tom Woods as well as the
gangsters were so surprised that they almost forgot each other. As the
plane was still taxiing across the field, one of the racketeers sent
a couple of ineffective bullets after the machine; but the shots did
no harm. The plane rose off the ground easily. Tom rationalized to
himself, “Whoever it was that escaped with the plane, couldn’t be a
friend of theirs, or he wouldn’t have fired at it.”
Tom’s ammunition was running low and he could answer only one shot
to his enemy’s three or four. Five or ten minutes after the plane had
gotten away, he was again astounded to realize that someone was firing
at the gangsters from their rear. “Must be Wallace,” he thought to
himself.
And so it was. Paul and he had withdrawn at the behest of Tom Woods.
Eagerly they watched the battle. Several times Wallace wanted to use
the gun the government agent had given him but Paul held him back.
They, too, soon became aware of the manoeuver of the two gangsters to
permit one of them to return to the plane. Cautioning Wallace on how
to behave himself and what to do, Paul crept away and was soon out of
sight. A short while later Wallace heard the roar of the motor and
he heaved a sigh of relief as he watched the plane take off. He was
positive that one of his comrades was escaping with the plane, though
he couldn’t imagine who. As for himself, now was the time to act, he
thought; the two were trapped. Moving closer to the edge of the woods
and picking out a sound shelter and one that placed him well to the
rear of the gangsters, he aimed carefully and fired his first shot.
Now to return to Tom Woods, the government agent. Realizing that
someone was attacking from the rear, perhaps it was Wallace or maybe
Paul, he tried to trick the gangsters into surrendering, “You better
throw down your guns and surrender, you two,” he called out. “That was
the signal that my men have arrived. You can’t get away now.”
“We’ll give you hell first,” cried the chief.
“Very well, then,” returned the agent. “I’ll count three. If you don’t
surrender, I’ll give my men the signal to blast you to hell. One!”
The smugglers answered with a volley of shots. “Two!” cried Tom.
The gangsters withheld their fire. They waited. “Three!” The word
echoed through the stillness of the woods.
“Go to hell!” answered the chief. “How the devil did you ever break
your chains and escape, you flatfoot?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” countered Tom.
“Yes, tell me.”
“When I have you in jail. Then I’ll pay you a visit and tell you all
about it.”
“I should have cut your throat instead of merely chaining you.”
“Why didn’t you? Soft-hearted or something?”
The chief answered with his gun. Tom raised his voice and cried, loud
enough to be heard a mile away, “All right! Shoot to kill.”
He had two guns and he shot from both of them as quickly as he could
pull the trigger. Wallace, who heard him, took the cue and also emptied
his revolver. The effect was that the two smugglers seemed to be
attacked on all sides.
Silence ensued, suddenly broken by a shot coming from a third
direction. A piercing cry cut short the echo of the bullet. The chief
bounded up from the ground and then fell back again, dead. Tom wondered
who it was that had shot. He took advantage of it, however, and called
out, “Hey, Smoky, do you want to give up or do you want to join your
chief?”
There was a pause. Smoky answered, “I want to give up. Tell your men
not to fire.”
Tom cried out, “Hold your fire!” To the gangster, he said, “Now, drop
your gun and stand up.” The smuggler complied. “Raise your hands above
your head. Now turn around. You make one move and you’ll go home in a
box.”
Smoky complied willingly. The government agent dashed from one cover
to another, his gun ready for action should the smuggler change his
mind. Finally, stepping forward softly, he came up behind the gangster.
Taking a short piece of rope that he carried in his pocket, the agent
tied the smuggler’s hands behind his back. Just then Wallace stepped
forth out of the woods, and handed Tom several yards of sturdy rope
which the agent used to tie the smuggler’s hands and feet. That done,
he turned to the boy and said, “I think it’s all right now to get the
boys together.”
Wallace nodded. He whistled three times and the boys crept like shadows
through the woods. They met in front of the cave. The government agent
looked at the boys, their expressions still set and determined and
their eyes full of wonder and anxiety. He laughed. “Everything is all
right now, boys. You may relax.” He turned to Paul and asked, “Where
did you get that rifle?”
Paul scrutinized his weapon. “Inside the cave,” he answered. “Bullets
too.”
“And you were the one that shot the chief?”
Paul looked away embarrassed. “I was terribly surprised to see him
topple over. Because I didn’t even aim at him.”
The boys and the government agent joined in laughing heartily. “So!”
Tom muttered, twisting the words into a humorous expression, “You don’t
aim but you hit the bull’s eye just the same!”
Their laughter was interrupted by the roar of an airplane overhead.
They watched the machine lose altitude gradually and continually circle
around and around. When it was at about a thousand feet, Wallace
exclaimed, “It’s the same machine.”
“Who escaped with the plane, by the way?” asked Tom Woods.
The boys looked at each other. “Who is missing?” asked Paul.
“William.”
“Jack.”
“Anyone else?”
“Bluff, but he’s at camp.”
“Then it must have been William and Jack who are in the plane,” Paul
stated.
“Then you had better wave to them. Signal them to land,” said the agent.
They all ran to the clearing and waved. As the huge machine showed that
it was going to land, all of them retreated, so that the plane might
have a perfectly clear space in order to land. Tom remarked, “I didn’t
know you had aviators among your group.”
Wallace informed him, “Six of us are pilots.”
“And you never told me!” The agent said that he was angry that they had
kept the information from him. “In the meanwhile,” he called out, “you
boys take shelter. It doesn’t pay to take chances and we really don’t
know who is in the plane.”
The boys took up hiding positions and watched the machine descend to a
perfect landing.