THE 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 overtake their
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. He must 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 voice suddenly 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 the prisoner 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 business you 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.”