The G-Man Grocer Meets the Boys
The _Staghound_ sailed away from the wharf at Zenith Village a very
few minutes after the boy detectives had secured the fingerprints and
the beer bottle, wrapped lightly in cloth, had been stored away in the
secret compartment of the sloop. They headed for the Lighthouse at once
while Stan looked up, on the chart, the compass course for Porpoise
Island.
Off the Lighthouse, as they trimmed the new sails and bowled merrily
along, they talked of many things, chiefly of what lay ahead.
“I’m satisfied that Hegarty and his men did not recognize us, Stan,”
John said. “They could only have had a look at us through binoculars in
the cove and hardly a good look at that! And they paid no attention to
us in the restaurant.”
“I think you’re right, John. At any rate we’re on our way for Porpoise
Island again and here’s hoping we can get plenty of dope to salt away
for the F. B. I. The more I think about it the more I am sure that
‘Gallagher’ is Dad and, if he is, we ought to be able to help him some.”
“Perhaps he’ll give us clues to carry back to Main Haven to that fellow
‘John’ that he spoke of. Sweeping fields of delicious corn--I hope luck
is with us!”
Down along the southwestern horizon fog was looming, distant but
distinct, and the wind was strong, raising good-sized rollers up the
stretch of the bay. The _Staghound_ dipped her lee rail in white water
as she eased along with queenly grace, and the boys were jubilant.
Disguised in far different clothes from their customary apparel, and
aboard a boat so disguised that it appeared like an entirely new craft,
they felt certain they could get into the cove on the southwest part of
the island without trouble and do some scouting ashore.
“Let’s hit for Main Haven first, Stan,” John suggested, “and look up
John. After all, we ought to know him at least by sight.”
“That’s all right with me, John, but I think we ought to sail along the
sea side of the island as we go and perhaps we’ll pick up a clue or two
while passing.”
“O.k., Skipper!”
At the wheel John held the sloop closer to the wind, laying a course to
take them off the western end of the island and round into the ocean
side. It was nearing dinner time and John was hollow inside.
He was glad when Stan’s trick at the wheel came round. Grinning, John
went below to stir up a meal. Shortly, the smell of hot coffee came up
from the cabin and snatches of song, mingled with suspicious munching
sounds. Stan chuckled. John would have eaten in any kind of weather, at
sea or ashore, and alive or dying. Outside of sleuthing the lanky one
enjoyed eating best!
He brought coffee up to his friend and big club-sandwiches, for Stan
did not like to leave the wheel with the new sail as yet not fully
tested and especially in the rather heavy waves making up the bay.
They were thus engaged in sailing and eating when the _Sea Hawk_ hove
into view astern, overhauling them rapidly. John was sitting, facing
aft, and saw her first.
“Great heaps of dangle-berries!” said he. “The _Sea Hawk_ is after us!
Let’s run off before the wind!”
“Where you going to run to, John, under sail, and against the power of
that yacht?” queried Stan, quietly. “And have you forgotten that we are
just a couple of boys out for pleasure?”
“You’re right! If we turn tail and run the _Sea Hawk_ would suppose
us suspicious characters providing anybody aboard suspected our
identities.”
The white and fast yacht overtook the sloop rapidly and both boys had
sinking feelings in their stomachs. John insisted on going below and
digging out their bows and arrows from a narrow slit under the bunks
and bringing them into the cockpit. If the men on the _Sea Hawk_ closed
in it would be a warm reception at any rate!
Closer and closer came the big craft but, as she neared the sloop the
_Sea Hawk_ veered away a little and then held her course again taking
her across the bows of the sailing boat a hundred yards distant.
Hegarty, easily distinguished by his height and build was standing on
the bridge.
Stan took one hand from the wheel and waved a greeting. Hegarty and
another man nearby returned the wave and shouted something which could
not be made out because of the distance.
“And that’s that, John!” grunted Stan, breathing freely as the yacht
drew off round the island.
It was Stan, facing forward, who first saw the gray motorboat which
came humming round the island and began circling the _Sea Hawk_. The
binoculars showed a fat and dumpy fellow standing in the rear cockpit
of the speedboat.
Dago appeared to be shouting back and forth at Hegarty and the _Sea
Hawk_ was moving slower now while the gray boat circled about her. The
speedboat was making heavy weather of it, splashing about in white
water among the waves and Dago appeared very angry. As the _Staghound_
began to overtake the white yacht, the gray boat drew off and started
down toward the sloop.
“Now,” said Stan, “will Dago know us in our disguise?”
It seemed more than likely that the strapping henchman of Nevens would
know them as the two boys who had wounded him a few nights before and
whom he had encountered on the island and they were not sure whether
or not to let fly with the arrows again before he could do anything,
or chance an interview. They had not long to decide for the speedboat
hummed and splashed down towards them at a fast clip, and it was clear
that Dago was looking the sloop over with a jaundiced eye.
Stan’s cap covered his yellow hair very well and he had on a dark
sweater and John was likewise attired. Would Dago penetrate that mask?
He drove down towards them, looking hard at them and they remained low
in the cockpit, apparently at ease--two boys having the time of their
lives sailing in the bay!
“Nice-a day, boys,” yelled Dago showing his teeth.
“Yeh, swell, mister!” John rejoined, half covering his face with a
sandwich as he spoke. John winked at Stan.
Stan, his mouth full of food which served to make his cheeks rounder
than they really were, waved to Dago. And the gray boat swept past, ran
once round the sloop, and went zipping back to Porpoise Island around
whose western end the _Sea Hawk_ had now disappeared. The fog was
closing up some, and the wind was rising.
They had gone through several tests successfully and they were elated.
The _Staghound_ curved round the end of the island, and the sheets were
eased for the run to Main Haven. Late in the afternoon the white sloop
rippled into the quieter waters of Main Haven harbor and up to the town
pier where it tied up to the wharf.
“Now, Mate,” said Stan, “we’ve got to find your ‘namesake’!”
“I guess they picked a swell name for a G-man when they chose mine,”
said John, grinning.
They located the grocery store without undue trouble and strolled in
as casually as possible. As they actually needed a few staples such as
sugar, butter, and bread, their manner was convincing. A few customers
were there but were shortly waited on by the good-looking youngish man
who seemed to run the place and the boys were alone with him.
He came towards them and offered to wait on them.
Stan was thrilled. This was almost like some of the detective stories
he had read! And _this_ was real! Here was an actual Federal special
agent of the F. B. I. posing as a grocery man!
“Any idea who I am?” queried Stan, quietly.
The grocer began looking over his lettuce as if picking one out for
them.
“Who are you, then?” he asked.
“The name’s ‘Sandborn’ and my friend is ‘Tallman.’”
The grocer handed Stan a lettuce head.
Outside, anyone would have supposed the conversation to have been about
that lettuce head.
“Any news, Sandborn?” asked John, softly.
“Nothing yet, John,” Stan said. “But we’re going to the island to-night
and hope to get something in the way of clues. I suppose you’d call
fingerprints of Hegarty news, though----?”
“You’ve got Hegarty’s fingerprints, Sandborn?” asked John, eagerly.
“On a beer bottle. Shall I bring them in to you?”
“You bet. Bring it back in one of these bags as if it was some
vegetables being returned. I’ll see that it’s well taken care of.”
“Oh, and Hegarty is planning a raid on Porpoise Island for Thursday at
midnight, I believe.”
“And you said there was no news!” groaned John. “Come on, now, before
some one comes in, let me have the whole story.”
They told the G-man everything they had learned in the last twenty-four
hours or so and he seemed pleased.
“Now go back and keep up the good work and we’ll have something to show
for our round-up of these criminals, boys,” said the man. “You’re doing
fine!”
They went back to the yacht and brought the beer bottle, in a bag, to
the store. Customers were there as they entered.
“Say,” said Stan, abruptly, “that bunch of carrots you just sold me
wasn’t so hot, Mister.”
He handed John the bag. The G-man smiled.
“All right. I’ll take it back gladly. Anything you want in its place?”
Back again at the yacht, the boys hugged each other with delight. Then
they hauled up the sails and started for Porpoise Island. They had
to tack back and forth a mile or so at a stretch to reach the cove,
and the last part of the way fog threatened to close in any moment.
Both boys were glad when the anchor was dropped in South Cove, on the
western tip of the island. There had been no sign of life on the island
as they beat down its shores and the fog was now rolling in heavily.
They had supper, listening to the lonely drone of fog signals from
steamers out on the nearby sea and the faint, faint echo of Zenith
signal.
“A fine night for murder!” John commented, glad of the lighted lamp
and the table of good things to eat. “If it weren’t necessary, I’d say
don’t go out--lie in our bunks and read! Pass the cake, old boy, I’ve a
little more room left yet!”
The dishes washed and put away, they got out the bows and arrows which
had been returned to the hiding place, adjusted flashlights, and dark
clothes, and made ready to go ashore.
“At a time like this, I wish we had a rowboat to take us back and
forth,” sighed John. “How’re we going to get ashore in these togs
without getting soaked?”
It was Stan who had insisted on regular clothing and now he explained
that there was a natural landing rock on the inner curve of the cove
where the _Staghound_ could be moored. Stumpy cedar trees would serve
as mooring bitts and the boys could step ashore dryly and quickly.
In the fog they had some difficulty finding the spot, but they did in
spite of fog and night and moored the sloop securely. Then they stepped
ashore by way of the rocks and searched for the end of the path which
would lead inland to the lair of the super-criminal, Nevens.
After overrunning the spot twice they found the narrow cleft through
thick bushes and were soon padding softly uphill and along the ridge
towards their destination. They had to move slowly, feeling their way
along, for they dared not use the lights without dire need.
An hour must have passed before Stan, in the lead, pressed back a
warning hand.
“Listen!” he cautioned.
Sounds of men’s voices drifted through the black fog.
“The boss must be nuts, stringing us out on a night like this, Butch!”
said one voice. “Whose gonna raid us in this kind of weather?”
“Ain’t nobody going to raid us, says I. Cowboy’s scared Hegarty so much
I guess we ain’t likely to have no trouble.”
“And with Gallagher along, I guess we can hold our own!” the first
speaker said. “That guy’s a honey with a tommy-gun!”
“His fists ain’t too bad, either, Butch,” some third voice said.
“Say, Dago makes me laugh,” Butch commented. “He’s scared stiff of them
kids! You know the ones I mean!”
“Sure the two what got their maps in the paper!”
The voices were drawing near now and both boys slipped back from the
trail. Even as they did so the men almost stumbled upon them and John
lay prone at once, scared. Some one stepped on his right hand, his
flashlight blinked as his squeezed fingers pressed the trigger and the
light flared its betrayal.
His yell of pain and the bright light came at once!
“Run, John! Run!” yelled Stan and his feet could be heard scurrying
away.
Obeying, instinctively, John rolled to his feet, thrashed off through
the bushes and began to run. Behind him came thundering feet, and
shouting voices. If the men had been surprised and startled by the
flare of light and John’s yell they had soon gotten over that and had
spread out to capture the boys. John stumbled through bushes, crashed
headlong into a tree trunk, saw stars and zooming comets flare through
his mind, and went sprawling backwards! Even as he fell and heard the
overtaking pursuers, he had a feeling all was over!