ESCAPE
Cavvy caught his breath and instinctively drew back. His heart was
thumping violently and the hand which held the stick shook a little.
Presently he managed to control himself and took another peep through
the crack of the door. The fat man was still absorbed in dismantling the
wireless, but it seemed certain that his companion’s absence must soon
arouse his suspicions. Besides, though the man below was helpless, there
was nothing to prevent his using his lungs as soon as he recovered
consciousness.
“I’ve got to hustle,” thought the boy desperately. “I’ve got to cut that
rope before something happens.”
Swiftly he laid the stick down on the hall floor and taking out his
scout knife, opened the largest blade. Then he got down on hands and
knees and crept to the doorway and across the threshold. The chair to
which McBride was tied hid him from the fat man and another discovery
heartened him not a little and brought a momentary sparkle to his eyes.
The key was in the lock on the outside of the door. No doubt when the
room was not in use it was kept carefully secured, and Cavvy realized
comforting possibilities in the fact.
His chief worry at the moment was that Micky might give a start or an
exclamation which would betray him. But fortunately the boy’s self
control stood the test. As Cavvy, crouching behind the chair, pressed
his knife blade across the knotted rope, there was a slight quiver of
the bound hands, a swift drawn breath that was barely audible, but that
was all. A moment later the severed rope slipped down and Cavanaugh
gripped the other’s arm and drew him gently toward the door.
All would have gone well but for an abominably squeaky board. At the
sound the fat man straightened with a jerk and whirled around.
“Quick!” cried Cavvy, jerking McBride across the threshold.
There was a bellow of rage from the fat man and a swift forward rush.
The door crashed shut and the key clicked in a well oiled lock. Close
together the two boys whirled around the newel post and tore downstairs,
urged on by the muffled, angry cries and poundings on the door. At the
foot of the stairs Micky stumbled and fell headlong, but Cavvy dragged
him up and they gained the outer door.
The sprawling body of the man still lay across the threshold. But as
they leaped over it and reached the open, a snarling curse burst from
him followed by a volley of threats and execrations.
To these the boys paid no heed. Dashing around the corner of the house
they made for the road as fast as the inky darkness and the unfamiliar
ground permitted. Once they stumbled into the oozy margin of the
stagnant pond. Again Cavanaugh ran against a rusty reaper abandoned in
the grass and barked his shin painfully. They were constantly tripping
and falling over unseen obstacles, but they never paused and at length
they gained the belt of trees and undergrowth which surrounded the
clearing.
Here they slowed down to get their breath and listen for sounds of
possible pursuit.
“They’d—hardly come—this far,” panted Cavanaugh. “Do you—hear anything?”
“No,” gasped Micky. “Nothing but—the rain and—wind. Whew! I’m winded.”
For a space the silence was unbroken save by the sound of their
suppressed panting. Then Cavvy turned and began to push through the
undergrowth.
“Let’s be going,” he whispered. “It’ll take a while to find the road,
I’m thinking.”
McBride followed. “You’re a pippin, old man, to get me out of that
mess,” he said presently.
“That’s all right,” shrugged Cavvy. “How did you ever come to get into
it?”
“Because I was a nut, I guess,” answered McBride in an apologetic tone.
“All the same, he showed up so suddenly and jumped on me so quick, I
honestly didn’t have a chance to do a thing—not even to let out a yell.”
“You mean the tall chap with the black beard?”
“Sure. I was standing there beside the door trying to follow you by the
rustling you made,” McBride explained. “All at once there was the
dickens of a flash in my eyes and the next second somebody grabbed me by
the throat and half choked me. I squirmed around and kicked him on the
shins a couple of times; then he must have choked me tighter, for I sort
of went woozy and the next thing I knew I was inside the house and the
door shut.”
“What happened then?” asked Cavvy interestedly.
“He dragged me upstairs and held me down in a chair, while the fat
fellow tied my hands. They wanted to find out what I was doing there, of
course. The tall guy didn’t talk much; just stood alongside and
glowered. It was Fatty who asked the questions—about a thousand of ’em,
I should say. He wanted to know who I was, and where I came from, and
what I was doing there and a lot more. He was especially keen to know
where the other fellows were, and I told him—” Micky gave a chuckle of
satisfaction—“I told him we’d seen the wires and suspected a wireless,
and the others had gone back to town to get the police.
“Say! It was worth a whole lot to see the way they took it. They were
scared green—at least Fatty was. The other guy was madder than a hornet
and worried some, too. I stuck to the yarn—of course it wasn’t true,
Cavvy, but you’ve got to stretch things sometimes with skunks like that,
haven’t you? And after all it was only what we would have done in a
little while. Well, the two went off in a corner and gassed a lot.
Finally Fatty began taking down the wireless and the big guy
pussy-footed out of the room and down stairs.”
“Did you hear anything a little while after he’d gone?” asked Cavanaugh
interestedly.
“I thought I did, but I wasn’t sure. I was worried stiff, because it
seemed as if he might sneak out and nab you when you came down from the
tree. So I listened as well as I could and after a while I heard what
sounded like a thump. But I couldn’t be sure, for just then Fatty
dropped a coil on the floor and it made the dickens of a racket. Was
there a thump?”
“There was,” returned Cavvy grimly. “I was standing just outside the
door when your friend opened it, and I beaned him with your stick.”
Briefly, and with many interruptions caused by their progress through
the thickets toward the road, he went on to relate what followed and
then returned to a consideration of the second man.
“How did he come at you, Bill?” he asked. “Was it from the house?”
“No, he couldn’t have. I was standing right beside the door and it never
opened, I’m sure. He must have come around the corner of the building
and snapped a flashlight on me.”
“The motor car,” murmured Cavvy to himself. “It was just as I thought.”
Instead of passing, the car must have stopped and the man made his way
to the house unperceived by the waiting Ferris and Ritter. For a moment
Cavvy considered the possibility of hunting up that car and driving back
in it to town. Then he realized that still another member of the gang
might have been left in it, and abandoned the idea. While he was still
lamenting the necessity of this, they pushed through a final fringe of
bushes and stepped out on the road.
“There’s nothing else but to hoof it back to town,” he said in a low
tone. “We ought— Listen!”
They both held their breath and in the ensuing silence they heard the
throbbing of a motor, growing rapidly louder and more distinct.
“It’s a car coming!” exclaimed McBride excitedly. “Do you suppose Rit
and Champ could have—”
He broke off abruptly as a flash of light suddenly illumined the mist.
Brighter it grew and brighter still. Then all at once two brilliant
headlights popped into view and behind them another pair.
“Guess we’ll take a chance,” muttered Cavanaugh.
He stepped out in the middle of the road and held up both hands. His
figure stood out clearly in the glare of the approaching lamps and
presently, with a jarring grind of brakes, the foremost car slowed down
and came to a standstill a few feet away.
“We’ve got ’em, Cavvy,” shrilled Ritter’s voice from the depths of the
tonneau. “A farmer down the road drove us to town and we found—”
Cavanaugh did not hear the rest. His eyes were fixed on the welcome and
familiar face of the County Sheriff, who had stepped out into the road
followed by several deputies. There were others in the second car, and a
few moments later the boy was hastily explaining the situation to a
group of keen-eyed, competent looking men gathered about him.
“The car’s the first thing,” stated Sheriff Mardon crisply. “They’ll try
to get away in that. Scatter along the road, fellows. It’s likely run
into the bushes a ways. Hustle, now!”
There were plenty of lanterns and flashlights, and by their aid the
search began. It was quickly over. Cavvy had lingered behind to have a
word with the other two scouts when, from a point a hundred yards or so
ahead there came a sudden bedlam of voices and the sounds of a scuffle.
The scouts dashed forward at a run, but when they reached the spot the
brief excitement was over.
Along one side of the road, its hood just protruding from the bushes,
stood a small car with all lights out. In front of it were two hatless
figures with hands upraised, who glared malevolently at the circle of
officers surrounding them.
“These your men?” asked the sheriff curtly as Cavvy came up.
The latter nodded and the sheriff turned to a deputy beside him.
“Take ’em in charge, George,” he said. “Three or four of you men had
better stay with him. Don’t take any chances of their slipping off. Now,
son, suppose you show us where this plant is.”
Five minutes later they were standing in the upper room of the deserted
house, which showed every sign of a hurried flight. The sheriff viewed
what remained of the wireless outfit with a grim smile.
“Caught with the goods,” he said in a tone of satisfaction. “It’s a case
for the Department of Justice, all right. I’ll leave a couple of
deputies ’till their man can take charge.” He turned to Cavanaugh. “You
kids have done a mighty good day’s work, son,” he stated. “I want to
hear all about how you came to think it out. Suppose you drop in at my
office to-morrow and—” He broke off, his eyes widening. “Why, you’re the
boy scout who sold me Liberty Bonds, ain’t you?”
Cavvy nodded, his eyes twinkling.
“Ha! ha!” laughed the man. “Got me to take twice as much as I was going
to, at that. Well, it was a good job even if I did get stung, and now
you’ve done a better one. Let’s get a going. Don’t forget to come and
tell me all about this in the morning.”
On the stairs Cavvy heard the big, burly fellow chuckle again.
“I’ll be hanged,” he muttered. “Boy Scouts!”