"WE WANT YOU."
A stubbly red-head protruded itself through the opening. The crucial
moment had come.
"Take that!" cried Rob bringing down the bulk of timber with a resounding
crack on the fellow's pate. He grunted, clutched at the sill of the
opening for an instant, and then went toppling down the stairway in a
heap.
A roar of fury and a rush of feet from below followed. But Rob did not
wait for the sequel.
"Hope I haven't seriously injured the chap," he thought, as he sprinted
for the window, "I hit a bit harder than I meant to."
But the next instant, when red-head's voice was added to the uproar
below, Rob knew that he had, at least, not impaired the miscreant's
talent for profanity.
All need of concealment was gone now. Rob's heart leaped to the
adventure. Jumbo was half way through the window as the lad reached it.
Rob hastened him with a shove and a quick word. The black held for an
instant, clutching the sill, and then he dropped. The next moment Rob had
followed him. He fell in a sprawling heap on top of the black. Both were
up in a jiffy.
"Which way?" gasped out Jumbo.
"Any way--this!" cried Rob, dashing across a moonlit strip toward a dark
belt of woods.
A fusillade of shots rang out behind them. Rob heard the bullets screech
as they spun by.
"Law'sy, Marse Rob, dem bullets talk ter me mighty plain," gasped Jumbo
as they gained the comparative security of the dark hemlocks.
"What did they say?" asked Rob, breathlessly.
"Dey say Jum-bo, we'se ah lookin' fo' you, chile!"
Whatever Rob's reply might have been it was forestalled the next instant
by an entirely unsuspected and startling happening. From the woods
_ahead_ of them, came a sudden trampling of feet.
"Quick, Jumbo. Down in here!" exclaimed the Boy Scout, dragging the
quaking negro down into a clump of bushes. They were just in time. The
next moment half-a-dozen dark figures rushed by them through the woods,
going in the direction of the hut they had just vacated so summarily.
"What on earth does this mean?" gasped Rob, half aloud in his utter
astonishment. Parting the bushes a bit, he could perceive the dark
outlines of the hut and the newcomers deploying across the moonlit strip
in front of it.
A loud crash echoed through the sleeping woods as the door of the hut was
suddenly slammed shut.
Almost simultaneously, the walls of the hut and the space in front of it
seemed to spit vicious flashes of fire.
"Gee whiz!" cried Rob, excitedly, "they're attacking the hut, Jumbo! What
under the sun does this mean?"
"Dunno," said the negro, "but mah hopes is dat dey jes' nachully
exterminaccouminicate each other like dem Killarney cats."
"Kilkenny cats, you mean, don't you?"
"It's all de same," retorted Jumbo, "but say, Marse Rob, we'd bettah be
clearing out ob here."
"No, let's stay awhile. We're in no danger here. In fact I've an idea
that this may all turn out to be a good thing for us."
The attacking party now dropped back a bit.
"They're well armed and desperate," Rob heard one of them say, "better
breathe a bit, boys, and then we'll go for 'em again."
"Let's get a log and smash the door down," said a voice.
"Good idea, O'Malley," was the response, "here's an old hemlock trunk.
It's just the thing. Lay hold, boys, and we'll smoke out that nest of
rats in a jiffy."
Willing hands laid hold of the big stick of timber, and the next instant
they were staggering with it toward the hut. There was a low word of
command and a sudden dash. The log was poised for an instant and then:
Smash! crash!
The massive door stood for a moment and then toppled inward, falling with
a splintering crash. But a dead silence followed the fall of the door. No
more pretence of defense was made by the inmates of the hut. Could they
be going to give up so tamely?
Then a sudden voice floated through the night. The voice of one of the
attacking party.
"Say! There's nobody here, boys!"
"Confound them! Have they escaped us again?" came another voice.
"Look's like it. Scatter and find them--back for your lives, all of you!"
The warning cry was followed almost instantly by a deafening explosion. A
vivid flash of blue flame occurred simultaneously.
"Gollyation!" gasped Jumbo, "de end ob de worl' am comin'."
The whole hut seemed to burst into flame at once. Lurid, vivid fire
seemed to gush from every window and opening in the place. In color it
was an intense blue.
"Shades ob Massa George Wash basin!" yelled Jumbo, "all de debils in dat
pit we see back dar is on de job! Come on, Marse Rob. Let's git out ob
here in double quick jig time."
"Nonsense," said Rob sharply, "I see it all, now, Jumbo. That place was a
moonshine joint--an illegal distillery. Those men who just attacked it
are revenue officers. The explosion was caused by hundreds of gallons of
spirits. I guess the moonshiners set it on fire to destroy the evidence."
Each instant the blaze rose higher. The hut, within its four walls, was a
mass of flames. It glowed like a red hot furnace. Rob watched it with
fascinated eyes. The whole clearing was bright as day. The dark woods
beyond were bathed in a blood-red glare from the flames.
The intense heat fairly blistered the trunks of the nearest hemlocks.
Resin ran from them freely.
"Let's get further back, Jumbo, it's too hot here," said Rob presently.
"Golly goodness! It am dat," declared Jumbo in awed tones, "dat fire dere
puts me in mo' fear ob dat bottomless pit dan all de preachifying I ever
listened to."
But their retreat into the woods was checked in a strange manner. Rob,
who was in advance, recoiled suddenly. A whole section of the woodland
floor seemed to uprear itself before his eyes, and a wild figure, with a
tangled black beard and shifty, wicked eyes, emerged. Rob realized in a
flash that it was a trapdoor cleverly concealed by brush and earth that
had just opened. Simultaneously he recognized the figure that was
crawling from it as that of Black Bart himself.
The man was too much perturbed to notice their nearness to him. But
suddenly his eyes fell on them. With a furious oath he dashed at Rob.
"You young fiend! You're responsible for this!" he yelled in a frenzy.
A knife glittered in his hand, but before he could use it Jumbo's black
fist collided with his jaw. Black Bart fell sprawling back upon the trap
door which he had just opened.
"Reckon Jack Johnson himself couldn't hev done no bettah!" grinned the
negro.
"Oh, no you don't, sah!" he exclaimed the next instant as Black Bart
struggled to rise; "ah reckon you can repose yo'self right dar fo' a
peahriod ob time."
So saying he pinioned the ruffian's arms to his sides and held him thus.
As he did so, violent knockings began to resound from under the
trap-door. Evidently somebody was imprisoned there.
"Hey! Let us out! Let us out!" came sharp cries from below, albeit they
were considerably muffled by the trap-door.
"Yo' all come an' sit on hyah too, Marse Rob," urged Jumbo. "Ah reckon
den dey kain't git dat door open till we am willing dat dey should
conmerge inter terrier firmer."
Rob guessed at once what had happened. The moonshiners, following the
attack of the revenue officers, had realized that continued resistance
would be useless. They had, therefore, made their escape by the secret
passage, led into by the swinging hearthstone. Its outlet evidently being
by the trap door on which they were then stationed. But first, with
wicked craft, they had ignited their whole stock of spirituous liquors,
hoping in the consequent explosion, that the revenue men would perish.
This much seemed clear. Indeed, it was confirmed afterward, and--but we
are anticipating.
The Boy Scout had just reached these conclusions when a sudden stir in
the brush behind him made him look up. Two men stood there, the light of
the conflagration showing every detail of their figures and countenances
plainly. They were regarding the group on the top of the trap-door with
peculiar interest.
Rob started up toward them but was abruptly checked as two rifles were
jerked to two shoulders, and aimed straight at him.
"Don't move a step!" warned one of the men, "I guess we want you."