"An attack," gasped Jack.
"And we're not there to help old Bob," cried Frank, in an agony of
apprehension. "Come on. Don't stop to finish dressing."
Shirt flapping out over his trousers, shoes unlaced, Frank frantically
buckled on his revolver and cartridge belt, seized his rifle and started
on a dead run through the trees. Jack did likewise. As they ran, they
heard the shots continuing intermittently, and then once more--clearer
and closer at hand, as they neared the knoll--came Bob's voice:
"Frank, Jack, they're rushing me. Look out for yourselves."
There was a crashing in the brush ahead.
"Down, Jack, some of them coming."
The two flung themselves prone behind a spruce whose low branches swept
the ground. The sounds were off to their left. A moment later the forms
of four men, hurrying towards the channel whence they had just come,
could be seen eight or ten yards away.
Jack's face was pale, his lips set. Frank was trembling with excitement
and fear--not for himself, if the truth must be told, for the plucky lad
was not thinking of himself, but for his chum, who was holding off the
main attack alone.
"Steady, Frank," whispered Jack. "Bob's life depends on us. This is no
time for false compunctions. You'll have to shoot to kill."
"All right, Jack."
Then the two rifles spoke as one, and two of the runners stumbled, flung
out their arms to save themselves, and pitched forward. The others spun
about towards the direction whence the boys had fired, but a second time
Frank and Jack fired, and they, too, fell.
"No time to see how badly they were hit," said Jack. "Come on. Old Bob's
still alive and shooting."
Forward they dashed once more, not neglecting, however, to keep wary
watch as they ran. No more of the enemy were seen, however. There was a
sudden uproar ahead, the shots ceased. Cries of astonishment,
stupefaction, even a note of fear, went up from several throats. Above
all was a bull-like roar that they readily identified as coming from
Bob's throat.
Frank's heart gave an exultant leap. He knew that yell. It came only
when Bob went berserk, and fought with his hands. He had heard it when
they fought Mexican bandits, Chinese smugglers, rum runners on Long
Island and Incas in the Andes. He knew well what it meant.
Almost at the same moment, they burst into the glade at the base of the
knoll, and came to a dead halt, eyes popping, standing as if rooted to
the spot.
But only for a moment. Then they started tearing up the hillside, among
the scattered trees. For at the top was a whirling heap of figures, as
if caught up in a cyclone, and well they knew what it portended.
Somewhere in the center of the group was big Bob, at close grips with
the enemy, and not caring how many they numbered.
Would they be in time? Could they help Bob before some half-breed
succeeded in sticking a knife into him?
But Bob proved that he could handle his own affairs, for while they were
still several yards away, first one and then another half-breed was
spewed from the miniature whirlwind, and then Bob could be seen with
several men clinging to his legs and another on his back, attempting
apparently to throttle him. The big fellow's hands went up and back.
They settled under the other's armpits. There was a sudden mighty heave
and wrench, and then the man on Bob's back came flying through the air,
straight for Bob's two comrades. He had been tossed from Bob's
shoulders, as a strong man would toss a sack of meal. Frank and Jack
leaped aside, and the man struck the ground, rolled over and over and
then lay still, crumpled up against the trunk of a spruce.
Recovering from their surprise, Jack and Frank leaped forward. But their
intervention was unnecessary. Standing like a young Colossus, legs
apart, with a man wreathed about each, Bob bent down. One big hand
seized each by the neck. Then the two heads were bumped together once,
twice. The half-breeds collapsed. Their grip on Bob's legs relaxed, and
he tossed them aside, and they, too, lay still. He had knocked them out.
Then Bob did a surprising thing. He leaped with a murderous look for the
two boys.
"More of you, hey?"
They sprang aside nimbly, eluding his grasp.
"Bob, Bob, it's us."
"What? What? Oh, you--"
Bob looked at them, the battle lust dying in his eyes, and recognition
dawning. It was followed by a wide grin.
"Oh, it's you."
"Bob, old thing, that was the greatest fight in history," cried Frank,
hysterically, clapping his chum on the back.
"Never saw the like," said Jack, doing likewise. "Thank God, Bob, you're
alive."
"Never was more alive in my life," said Bob. "Hey, they're running
away."
He darted away from his chums and sprang downhill. True enough. The two
whom he had disposed of first, who had dropped out of the fight, had
gained their feet and were running madly through the trees.
Jack ran after Bob and restrained him.
"Let them go, Bob. They are alone. There are three others here we must
tie up before they come to."
Bob followed him back to where Frank was bending over the man whom the
big fellow had tossed over his head. The half-breed was recovering
consciousness, and beginning to moan.
"Broken arm, I think," said Frank. "He'll not bother us. How about the
two whose heads you bumped together?"
"They're recovering consciousness, too," said Jack. "Nothing much the
matter with them. We had better tie them up, so they can't cause us any
trouble."
"Here, take the other fellow's belt and tie his hands behind his back
with it," said Bob. At the same time, he suited action to word in the
case of the nearer of the two, whipped off the fellow's belt and tied
him with it.
"Won't they try to run away, Bob? Ought we to tie their legs, too?"
"No, we'll just keep an eye on them. Let's take a look at the other. If
his arm is broken we'll have to set it somehow, I guess. Rather pitch
him in the lake, though. He's a villainous looking rascal. Tried to
choke me, too, and darn near succeeded."
While Frank kept an eye on the two other prisoners, who had now
recovered consciousness and were beginning to realize their situation
but lay still under the threat of Frank's rifle, Bob and Jack examined
the third man.
His senses were returning, and he moaned a good deal. Examinations
revealed, however, that his arm had not been broken, merely badly
wrenched.
"I'm mighty glad of that," said Jack. "We'd have been up against it to
set a broken arm."
"Oh, we could do it, all right, if necessary," said Bob. "But I'm glad,
too, that it isn't necessary. But, say, Jack"--with sudden recollection,
and an air of anxiety--"there were four more of these scoundrels. We'll
have to look out for them."
Jack's voice shook a little as he replied.
"I think not, Bob," he said. "Frank and I saw them first. We ambushed
them, practically. They didn't have a chance."
"You don't mean--"
Jack's gaze was steady but troubled.
"We had to do it, old man," he said. "It was our life or theirs. And
yours, especially. When we heard your shout, and those first shots,
Frank went wild with fear that you had been trapped while we were away
enjoying ourselves. And I guess I felt as bad as he did."
"Hey, fellows," interrupted Frank, hailing them, "the two that got away
must have been all that were left. They've jumped in a canoe and are
paddling like mad for the mainland."
"Can you see them?" called Jack, starting to the top of the knoll to
join his chum.
"How would I know what they were doing if I couldn't?" rejoined Frank.
"Yes, I can see them. Look there."
He pointed.
"Tie up that other fellow, Bob, and make him walk up here to join his
little playmates," Jack called back.
Bob complied. The man groaned, but by now he had fully recovered his
senses, and he obeyed Bob's order to move with an alacrity that showed
he stood in abject fear of the husky young American.
Frank pointed out the fleeing men, who were nearing the mainland, and
paddling with superhuman energy, as if fleeing from the Old Nick, no
less.
"That accounts for all of them, I guess," he said. "So we can sit down
now, Bob, while you tell us how it happened."
"Not much to tell," said Bob, sinking to a seated position against the
tree trunk. "Except I went to sleep and was almost surprised, but not
quite. My first intimation that the enemy was near was when I heard
somebody talking in the trees at the foot of this knoll. Or, did I hear
anybody? Was it just the old sixth sense giving warning of danger? I
don't rightly know. At any rate, I woke with a start and looking down
through the trees saw a bunch of half-breeds making their way towards
the other side of the island.
"I tell you I was scared. I felt guilty as sin. Here I had promised to
keep watch, and, instead, had fallen asleep. As a result, the
half-breeds had landed on the island, and were heading for where you
fellows were swimming. I had endangered your lives. What should I do?
That was the question.
"But I didn't waste must time, puzzling over it. I knew I had to give
you fellows warning or you would be taken by surprise. So I yelled to
you as loud as I could to look out. I guess they hadn't seen me up till
then. But when I yelled, they saw me quick enough, and several of them
opened fire, and----"
"Wait a minute, Bob," Frank interrupted, his eyes shining. "They hadn't
seen you, and you could have let them pass without attracting their
attention, but you yelled, just to give us a chance for our white alley.
That's, that's--"
"Oh, forget it," said Bob, uncomfortably. "You'd have done the same.
Anyway," he hurried on, "they split up into two groups, and one kept on
going, while the other rushed me before I could do much shooting,
and--well, I guess you know the rest," he concluded, lamely.
"I'll say we do," said Frank, gripping his big comrade's shoulder. "Boy,
I'll never see the like of that fight again."
"But, Bob, I wonder why they rushed you instead of trying to shoot you
down," said Jack.
"Search me," said Bob.
"I'll bet I know," said Frank.
"What?" asked both.
"They wanted to take you alive, Bob, for some reason of their own.
Probably, would have tried to take us alive, too, if they'd gotten the
chance."
"Well, maybe so," said Bob. "Anyhow, that's that. Now what shall we do?"