WHICH WILL WIN?
Rob's idea was a simple enough one. With his knife he would cut bundles
of branches and then bind them to the sides of the boat with the rope.
This would at least keep the crazy craft afloat and offer him a means of
reaching the shore.
He set to work at once with great enthusiasm, and by dusk his
strange-looking boat was ready to be launched. By placing round branches
under it for rollers and using another branch as a lever, he soon
succeeded in getting it into the water. But it was hard work, and he
paused to eat some of his canned beef before going any further.
To his huge delight the boat, though lopsided and half full of water,
was buoyed up by the branches, and he had no doubt that he could
navigate her with the oars. As soon as he had finished his unappetizing
meal, Rob clambered on board his "ark," as he mentally called her, and
thrust the oars into the rowlocks. The boat was very heavy, and owing to
her waterlogged condition pulled very hard. Worse still, Rob encountered
a current that carried him toward the other island, the one he had left
that morning; and even worse, a fact he presently perceived, his craft
was being carried around a point, on the opposite side of which he could
see the glow of a fire against the night sky; for by this time it was
dark. Rob was heartily glad that this was the case, for he knew that the
fire must be that of the rascals who had abducted him, and in the
darkness he might slip by them unnoticed.
Luckily the current set a bit from the shore at this point, and
although the boy could hear the three rascals carousing around their
fire over a keg of spirits, and singing and shouting at the top of their
voices, they could not see him, partly because of their condition, and
partly because of the firelight.
Past the camp, with its carousing inmates, the boy was carried, and
suddenly his boat was bumped against something. Rob looked around. At
first he thought he had struck a rock. Instead he saw before him the
green motor boat.
Like a flash an inspiration came to him. He clambered on board, and not
till he was fairly on deck did he recollect that he had neglected to tie
his ark to the side.
He looked over the stern rail. In the dim light he could see his clumsy
craft drifting off, bobbing up and down on the tide.
"Well, I've burned my bridges behind me now," he exclaimed to himself.
"If I can't carry this thing through, I'll be cold meat by morning."
Just at that moment came a shout from the outlaws carousing on the
beach.
Keener-eyed than his companions, Berghoff had spied a dark form on the
motor boat, silhouetted against the thickly sprinkled stars.
"There's someone stealing our boat. After him, boys!" Rob heard the
fellow roar.
Then he ducked as a volley of bullets came whizzing over his head. His
next move was to clamber forward, keeping as low as possible till he
reached the anchor chain.
There was no time to haul in, for the men had already run down the beach
and launched their small boat.
Rob merely knocked out a shackle pin and let the whole thing go. This
done, he scrambled back and descended to the engine room.
"If I can't make this old tea-kettle go, I'm a gone coon," he admitted
to himself with grim humor, as he switched on gasoline and spark, and
turned the fly wheel over. Outside the shouts were coming closer every
instant, and the motor showed no signs of intending to start.
+ + + + +
It was Donald, the Wolf Scout, who saved the day for the prisoners of
the submarine.
As Barton rolled about whimpering and cursing by turns, he spied a
bright object protruding from the man's pocket.
"Is--is that the lever?" he asked, in tones that trembled with
excitement.
Mr. Barr darted on the object and pulled it out with a shout of triumph.
"Once more the Boy Scouts have saved the day!" he cried. "It is the
lever, sure enough!"
Close as the atmosphere of the cabin had by this time become, they all
found breath enough to give three ringing cheers. In the conning tower
Merritt, at the wheel, heard them, and guessed what they meant.
Fifteen minutes later the submarine was shooting upward to the surface
toward the blessed air. With what speed the hatch was opened when they
reached the surface and could inhale the pure ozone once more, may be
imagined. As soon as they had somewhat recovered a red light was shown
from the stern, and presently the _Viper_ came chugging up.
"Well, where in the world have you been?" asked Tubby.
"Where _under_ the world, you mean," laughed Merritt; "but for a time it
was no laughing matter, I assure you."
He then gave his fellow Scout a description of all they had undergone.
When the excitement was over, word was given to get under way once more,
and with the submarine leading, and the _Viper_ following the red light,
they held their courses toward the south.
It was dawn when they found themselves off a maze of small islands and
islets. Donald had the wheel, and was gazing ahead as the submarine, at
reduced speed, threaded her way among the shoals and sand bars.
All at once he saw something coming toward them that made his pulses
beat far above normal.
It was a green motor boat, with a single military mast and a high cabin.
He lost no time in notifying everybody, and the submarine decks were
soon crowded.
"Better get below, boys," warned the ensign; "that is undoubtedly the
rascals' boat. In fact, Merritt says he recognizes it. They are
desperate fellows, and when they see we have them cornered, they will
put up a fight. If they run, I mean to pursue them to the bitter end."
Reluctantly the boys went below, while the ensign and Mr. Barr stood on
the foredeck, revolvers in hand.
But although whoever was on the green boat must have seen them, the
craft came right on.
"Why, they actually mean to fight," gasped Mr. Barr.
"They're nervy fellows, all right," commented the ensign; "we may have a
tougher time of it than we think, Barr."
He turned and warned Tubby to take his boat back out of range. On and on
came the green boat without making a sign of any kind, hostile or
otherwise.
"What can they be up to?" wondered the ensign in tones of blank
amazement.
Scarcely twenty feet intervened between the two boats now, when suddenly
a boyish figure, bareheaded and clad in a Boy Scout uniform, leaped to
the rail of the green craft.
"Kre-ee-ee-ee!" he shrilled out.
"The call of the Eagle Patrol!" gasped Mr. Barr.
"Yes, and by all that's wonderful, that lad is Rob Blake!" fairly
shouted the ensign, waving his cap.
By this time Tubby, too, had recognized his leader. The air rang with
cheers, shouts, questions and answers in a perfect babble of sound.
"Well, who on earth but a Boy Scout could get himself kidnapped and then
kidnap his abductors' boat!" exclaimed the ensign that evening as they
lay at anchor off Rob's "Ivory Island."
The climax of a wonderful day had been reached. Only one thing marred
it. The rascals who had pursued Rob, for he only got the engine going in
the nick of time, had got clear away in the rowboat. Possibly they
hailed a passing steamer and were picked up.
But, after all, their escape, while annoying, was not of so much
importance, for in their haste they had left behind the most important
papers and models, and the ones they had taken were valueless, Mr. Barr
declared, without the missing ones.
The next day, after a long evening of jollity, the _Viper_ set out for
Jamesport, S. C., with the unfortunate Barton bound with ropes to keep
him from further violent manifestations. The poor man never recovered
his reason, but died shortly after being admitted to an asylum. It
appeared that in his youth he had been an inmate of an institution for
the feeble-minded, but had been discharged as cured.
On the _Viper's_ return, work was begun on transferring the ivory, which
was ultimately sold for an amount that netted all of them a handsome
sum; for Rob insisted on sharing his good fortune with all his
comrades.