A NEST OF CONSPIRATORS
The radio boys saw Buck Looker often--all too often--in the days that
followed. As the boys had feared, Buck and his crowd were staying at
the Mountain Rest Hotel, and it was almost impossible to help
encountering them.
Several times there were arguments which almost resulted in blows, but
Buck always managed to sneak off at the critical moment, leaving the
boys to fume helplessly.
"Wish we could find out how that shack of theirs caught fire," Joe
grumbled on one of these occasions. "Then we could stop their mouths
on that firebrand question once and for all."
"Wouldn't make any difference," remarked Herb gloomily. "If they
couldn't make trouble for us on that score, they'd think up something
else."
But about this time something happened that took the minds of the
radio boys from Buck Looker and his trouble making.
One day, as they were tramping through the woods in the still deep
snow, they came upon a little decrepit-looking one-room shack,
standing dejectedly within a circle of skeleton trees.
They had wandered further than usual from camp in exploring the
surrounding country and had come upon the tiny cabin unexpectedly.
Jimmy was about to utter a gleeful shout at sight of the
interesting-looking place when Bob clapped a warning hand over his
mouth.
"Keep still," he whispered sharply. "I hear voices in there."
"Well, what if you do?" demanded Joe, but he kept his voice cautiously
lowered just the same. "Probably some harmless dubs----"
"Like ourselves," finished Jimmy, with a grin, "seeking shelter from
the bitter weather."
"Well, whoever they are, they sure are mad about something," said Bob,
hardly knowing why he should be so excited.
The voices inside that one-room shack had been raised in altercation,
but now, as the boys listened, somebody evidently cautioned silence,
for once more the tones were lowered almost to a whisper.
"There's something mysterious about this," said Bob, his eyes gleaming
joyfully. "I vote we look into it."
"Right-o," agreed Joe, following the leader as Bob started softly
toward the shack.
What they expected to find they had no idea. But it was an understood,
though unspoken, rule with the radio boys never to pass by anything
that looked in the least mysterious. And certainly this queer little
shack in the woods bore all the air of mystery.
There was one small window near where they were standing and the four
boys crowded up to this, jostling each other in the attempt to be the
first to see through the dingy pane.
"Hey!" whispered Jimmy in anguish, as Joe's foot clamped firmly down
upon his. "Quit parking on my toe, will you? There's lots of room on
the ground."
Joe snickered derisively and that small sound came near to proving
their undoing. For inside the cabin it happened that for a moment
every one had stopped talking and in the silence Joe's laugh was
distinctly audible.
"Some one's getting in on this," they heard one of the voices say, as
though its owner were nervous, yet was trying his best to hide his
uneasiness. "Let's take a look around, boys. You never can be too
sure."
The radio boys looked at each other in consternation. There was no
time to get away, even if they had wanted to. And now that they were
convinced there was crooked work going on in the shack, they certainly
did not want to leave.
Bob flattened himself against the wall and motioned to his chums to do
likewise. If the fellows found them and wanted to put up a fight,
"well, they'd get their money's worth, anyway."
But it so happened that the lads were not discovered. The door of the
shack was on the opposite side from them, and either the men were too
lazy to search carefully or they were too confident of the obscurity
of their meeting place. At any rate, they went to the door, looked
around, and, finding no one within sight, evidently decided that they
had been mistaken in thinking they had heard a suspicious noise and
reentered the shack without searching further.
"You're crazy, Mohun," the boys heard one of them remark, in an
irritable voice. "You're letting your imagination--and your
nerves--run away with you."
"Well, this deal is enough to get on anybody's nerves," was the
grumbled reply, evidently from the person addressed as Mohun. "If we
don't put it across pretty quick I'm going to quit. I've told you too
much delay would be fatal."
The boys glanced at each other, and the relief they had felt at not
being discovered was closely followed by huge excitement as they
became more and more certain that they were on the verge of making an
important discovery.
They crowded closer to the window though, mindful of how close they
had come to discovery, they were careful to make not the slightest
sound.
Bob, who was closest to the window, could, by exercising the greatest
caution, peer into the shadows of the room. He put out his hand as a
warning to Joe, who was crowding him closely.
"Don't push," he said, in the merest whisper. "I have a notion this is
going to be good."
So had the other boys, but they were mad clean through at the fate
that prevented their getting a glimpse into the tumbled-down shanty.
However, they held back, knowing that if they were too eager they
would spoil everything. Discovery then would mean that they would
never hear the secret these men were about to disclose.
The old shack had evidently once been lived in, for it was fitted up
with furniture of a crude sort. Along one side of the room ran two
long bunks, one above the other, and on the walls were some old
dilapidated-looking pictures, evidently cut out of magazines or news
periodicals.
There was a three-legged, rickety table in the center of the room, and
about this the conspirators--for such they were--were gathered. Two of
the men had chairs, patently home-made, for seats, while the third,
who sat facing Bob, had merely an empty wooden box turned on end.
It was this last fellow who was now speaking and who had been
addressed by the name of Mohun. He was short and of fair complexion,
with protruding, horsey teeth that stuck out disagreeably over his
lip.
Another of the trio was a giant of a fellow, tall, dark and
heavy-browed, while the third, who sat with his back to Bob, was of
slighter build, but nearly as tall.
Mohun seemed to be the leader of the party, for now he was leaning
across the rickety table, talking earnestly and emphasizing his
remarks with blows of his fist upon it.
"I tell you, Merriweather," he said, addressing the giant, "this is
our time to act. You are merely pussy-footing when you ask delay. I am
convinced that delay means suicide."
Jimmy, catching the last word, gasped involuntarily and Bob nudged him
warningly.
"Keep still," he hissed. "This sure is going to be good!"
The two other men looked uncertain but the fellow called Mohun was
pushing the point home.
"This is our chance," he cried vehemently. "Salper is out of the way
for the present, but we never know when he may take the notion to go
back to the old job. They say he is getting mighty restive already."
At the mention of Mr. Salper's name Bob fell back in his amazement and
landed on Joe's foot, whereupon the latter emitted a squeak of pain
that he immediately stifled.
"Did you hear that?" demanded Bob in an excited whisper, without a
thought for poor Joe's foot. "They're talking about Mr. Salper."
Eagerly he turned back to the window while Herb whispered in an awed
tone:
"Maybe they're going to murder the old fellow."
"Say, keep still, can't you?" said Bob impatiently, as he strained his
ears to catch the lowered tones of the three men.
Herb subsided, and the four of them waited with bated breath to find
out what these three conspirators had to do with Gilbert Salper.
"Maybe you're right, Mohun," the tall man with the craggy brows
answered reluctantly. "But I can't help thinking that to strike now is
a poor move."
"In two or three weeks we'll have everything just as we want it,"
added the man who sat with his back to Bob. "We'll have a sure thing
then, while now----"
The man called Mohun threw up his hands in a gesture of despair.
"Pussy-footing again!" he cried disgustedly. "What kind of gamblers
are you, anyway, to wait until you have a sure thing before you test
your luck? Don't you know that the big deals down on the Street that
have been successful have been put through because the fellows doing
it had nerve?"
"Yes, but not many of the deals have been as big or as important as
this," said the giant quietly.
"All the more reason to strike quickly," argued Mohun, with heat,
adding in a lowered tone: "I tell you this absence of Salper from Wall
Street is the chance of a lifetime. It's the thing we've been waiting
for. With him on the Street we haven't a chance for our lives. With
him away, we have everything in our own hands. Now it's up to you
whether we make the most of our luck, or throw it in the rubbish
heap."
"But Salper is up here for an indefinite length of time," argued the
man with his back to Bob. "It is said he will stay at least a month,
maybe two. And a week--two at the outside--is all we need to make sure
of relieving him of some of his ill-gotten wealth."
The man laughed noisily at this poor attempt at humor, and Mohun
glanced nervously about him.
"Better look out," he said, peevishly. "You never can tell who's
listening. They say the trees have ears around this way."
"Your nerves are getting the best of you, I think," cried the big man.
"Just because you've got cold feet is no reason why we should take the
chance of losing out on the biggest deal we've had the chance of
handling for many a day. Get a good sleep, man, and you'll think the
way we do, tomorrow."
For a moment it seemed as though Mohun were about to spring upon the
big man and Bob held his breath, expecting a struggle. Mohun's face
turned a brick red and his lips drew back from his protruding upper
teeth as though in a snarl. His hands clenched, he took a step toward
the bigger man who had half risen from his chair.
"Then I'll tell you one thing, you pussy-footers!" he cried furiously.
"If this deal isn't pulled through by the end of a week and if by that
time we haven't our hands on a good chunk of Salper's money, then I'm
through. Do you hear that? I quit!"