THE STRUGGLE
Jet was talking altogether too boldly to please the small guide, and he
began to repent ever having consented to take part in such work.
"It won't do to call on our friend for some time, so let's go back to
the thicket and make ready," Jet said, as he arose to his feet, and Jim
followed like one who feels positive he is going to his doom.
Once inside the shelter of the trees, the amateur detective set about
preparing for the work on hand.
He examined the revolver carefully, greased the lock with a bit of
bacon rind, and assured himself that every part worked freely and
correctly.
Then he loaded the gun with ball cartridge, and put half a dozen in his
pocket. The bacon rind was also used with good effect, and, Jet said,
as he slipped a couple of crackers in his coat:
"Now come on, Jim. We may as well sit there as here, and we shall know
if he leaves the place."
"He can't unless he swims, for the other fellow has got the boat."
"I forgot that; but anyhow it won't do any harm to be ready. We'll
carry the boat down to the bushes on the bank, and that will take some
time."
The small guide obeyed.
The craft was taken as near the water as possible without exposing her
to view in case Bob should look that way, and then the boys settled
down for the last rest before the struggle.
"How long are we to wait here?" Jim asked.
"A couple of hours. He will have all his chores done up by that time,
and there's more chance of finding him lying down."
"Why wouldn't it be as well to row around boldly, and make believe
we've jest come for a visit? Then when he wasn't looking you could
clap your revolver to his head."
"I'm afraid that wouldn't work. In the first place, he'd be pretty
certain to recognise me in the daylight--you know my face was
half-hidden in the shadow of the shanty when he called at the other
camp. Then again I question if any visitors could catch him unawares
after first showing themselves. He has reason to know there are a good
many hunting for him, and is too old a bird to take chances."
Jim sighed. Almost any plan seemed to him preferable to trying to
steal upon a fellow, who would be likely to shoot at the first alarm,
and he had little faith in the ultimate success of the undertaking.
Jet waited patiently another hour, and then he said, as a look of
resolution came over his face:
"We must start now. If he happens to see us rowing over we must
pretend that we came to look at the island, and then get away as soon
as possible. In case we land without his knowledge, the thing must be
worked exactly as was the other: creep up till we see him, and take
advantage of the first chance that offers."
"Shall I carry the gun?"
"No; here is the revolver, and be sure to use it if things get hot. We
shall be fighting for our lives when we tackle him."
Jet took hold on one side of the boat, and Jim with an expression of
despair on his face, cared for the other, launching the little craft
without a splash.
The amateur detective motioned his companion to take up the oars, and
then shoved off, leaping lightly on the stern-sheets where he could
handle the tiller.
There was no attempt at conversation now, for the utmost silence was
necessary if they would land without making their coming known to the
man both feared.
Jet steered the boat under an overhanging tree, made the painter fast,
and then crept softly onto the bank, leaving his companion to follow.
Since both the boys knew the exact location of the camp, their task was
just so much the easier, and they crept cautiously along in a straight
line, but keeping a close watch ahead lest Bob should suddenly appear.
Half an hour after landing they were where the shanty could be seen
clearly; but its occupant was not in it.
Jet had begun to fear he might have circled around the island merely
for the sake of walking, and would come up in their rear; but this
cause for alarm was soon found to be groundless.
Jim espied the man lying under the shade of some trees, where he could
have a full view of any who might pass, and pointed him out to Jet.
There was no chance to creep upon him as in the case of the other
fellow, for he was unmistakably awake and on the alert.
"We shall have to wait until he changes his position," the boy
whispered. "It won't do to tackle him yet a while."
Jim breathed more freely.
Any respite, however brief, was a great relief.
When ten minutes had passed, and there was no change in the position of
affairs, Jet said:
"I'm going to creep around the hut, and try to get through the back.
The guns are probably there, and it will be a big thing if we get hold
of them."
"How long are you goin' to be gone?"
"I don't know; but in case I stay you can make up your mind that I've
concluded to do the business there, and when he comes toward the shanty
be on your feet ready to jump in the minute you hear my voice."
"Hadn't we better keep together?"
"If there's a good chance to hide, I shall wait and try to get the drop
on him from the inside."
Then Jet started off as if fearing his companion might attempt to
dissuade him from his purpose.
Bob was so far away that there was no reason for moving with such
extreme caution, and he walked rapidly around through the underbrush
until the hut was between himself and the man, after which he went
boldly forward.
It was not a difficult matter to make his way into the shelter,
constructed as it was only of brush, and he entered at once.
The hut was entirely enclosed on all sides, save where a narrow
door-way had been left open, and Jet soon realized that he could ask
for no better place to attempt the capture.
He found both guns in one corner, and these he carried out, hiding them
under the leaves some distance away.
It was well he finished this work quickly, for he had hardly regained
the shelter of the shanty when from between the branches he could see
Bob rise to his feet, yawn wearily, and then come leisurely up the
incline.
The decisive moment had arrived, and only by the greatest exercise of
will power could Jet prevent his hands from trembling violently.
Gently pushing the muzzle of the gun through the brush which formed the
side of the hut, the boy waited until the man should be within a few
feet.
Bob came on in a lounging fashion, looking back every now and then as
if undecided what to do, and thus approached the shanty in the exact
direction which best served the purpose of his would-be captor.
Not until he was within a couple of yards did Jet shout, as he pushed
the muzzle of the gun farther out and took careful aim:
"Hold up your hands, quick! I shall fire at the first move you make."
Bob obeyed instinctively, as any other man would have done in the same
position, with that ominous-looking barrel almost touching him.
"Now, remember that the slightest movement will cost you your life, for
I shall let both barrels go if you do more than wink. I know what your
reputation is, and don't intend to take any chances. Where are you,
Jim?"
"Here," was the prompt reply, and Jet saw the small guide coming
rapidly from his place of concealment.
"Stand on one side of that fellow so you won't spoil my aim, and take
his revolver away. Be quick, and don't fear his hurting you, for he
can't make but one move."
Bob scowled fiercely; but did not dare to offer any resistance.
Perhaps if he had known who was behind that gun the case might have
been different; but there was every reason to believe an officer held
it, and he could not afford to run any risk.
Jim searched the prisoner carefully, and then, when a revolver and a
knife had been thrown into the camp, Jet said:
"Now, stand directly behind him with your revolver pressed to the back
of his head, and pull the trigger if you feel him move ever so
slightly."
Jim was beginning to regain his courage, and obeyed without hesitation.
The amateur detective now came into view, and Bob literally gnashed his
teeth in rage.
"I wish I'd known it was you," he cried, savagely.
"Be careful or your head will move so much my friend will shoot; his
hand trembles so now that there's danger your brains will be blown out
unintentionally."
On first entering the shanty, Jet had seen plenty of ropes with which
to bind the prisoner, and these he brought out, lashing Bob's arms
behind his back, and tying his legs securely together.
During this last operation, the prisoner struggled most desperately,
for Jim's revolver had been lowered in order that he might assist his
companion, and before the boys finally got him under subjection they
were reeking with perspiration, in addition to being nearly tired out.
"Well," Jim said, triumphantly, as he rose to his feet, "that part of
the work was done as slick as grease, and at this rate it won't take us
long to wind the whole gang up."
"I'm afraid the hardest job is ahead," Jet replied, as a most
unaccountable fit of gloominess came over him. "You know the other
makes the third one, and superstitious people believe a fellow always
comes to grief on that number."