WHAT THE SCOUTS DID.
Every one of those eight boys plainly heard the long awaited sounds,
even Gusty, who was quite as anxious as any of his new friends.
Immediately each wearer of a soiled khaki suit followed the instructions
of their leader, and drew in a full round breath so as to be ready for
the next act in the little drama. This would come in the form of action,
if their program could be followed out as closely as it was intended to
be.
A few seconds ensued. Plainly Hugh had himself well in hand, and would
not allow anything to rattle him. Before giving the signal that would
precipitate a startling change in the situation, he wished to make sure
that the two lounging tramps had not taken the alarm because of the
scratching sounds.
This was quickly settled. The shorter fellow did raise his head a trifle
as if he may have considered that it was an unusually methodical rodent
that bit into the wood with such regularity. But then as the men had
been eating, and doubtless crumbs of food must have been scattered about
on the floor, perhaps it was this that had excited the sleek little
animal on the other side of the wall.
Wandering Willies as a rule become accustomed to having rats for bed
fellows on many occasions, so that there is nothing about the presence
of such vermin to dismay them. The shorter tramp only maintained that
listening attitude for a brief spell; then he once more dropped back and
resumed his easy position.
Hugh knew it was time. He felt sure that Don Miller and those with him
up in the dark loft had measured their distance, and were in a position
to drop directly upon the recumbent rascals underneath.
He had pursed up his lips ready to give the whistle agreed on, and no
sooner was the squatty hobo reclining again at full length than it came.
Clear and sharp the sound rang out. No bugle call, ever blown, brought
about a speedier result.
Every scout was instantly in action. The boys who were so impatiently
waiting in the shelter of that rock pile, shot forward like so many
agile panthers, and every fellow was aiming to project his form straight
at the spot where the tramps had been stretched out at their ease.
Of course the wary rogues realized that they were about to become the
victims of some sort of cleverly arranged trap. The first glimpse they
had of khaki-clad figures bouncing up like a flock of sheep, and even
filling the very air must have given them the startling idea that they
were attacked by a regiment of State’s troops. They had no time to grasp
the situation, for already boys were plunging recklessly down from the
loft over their heads, and alighting full upon the men, not giving them
a chance to get to their knees, much less their feet.
In three seconds the scene was a wild one, indeed. Half a dozen scouts
seemed to be fairly covering each of the tramps, striking and dragging
and hanging on like crazy leeches. The strong men tried as hard as they
could to get up, but to no avail. Above the tumult the clear trumpet
tones of the scout master could be heard urging his followers to hold on
like grim death, and cheering them on, at the same time doing his level
best to keep the flail-like arms of the hoboes from damaging any of the
boys.
“Surrender, both of you, or you’ll get the worst pounding you ever
knew!” shrilled Billy Worth, as he kept bringing both his fists down on
the head of the shorter rascal very much after the style of a
rapid-action pile-driver.
Bud Morgan was much in evidence with that baseball bat of his. He did
not have the heart to use it upon the craniums of the men, but kept
shoving them backward again and again when it looked as though they
might get to their feet in spite of the various figures clinging to
their arms and legs.
This sort of thing lasted for perhaps a full minute. It may have been
much more than that, for no one was in a position to take note of the
passage of time, being wholly occupied with the work of attack and
defense.
With half a dozen-boys busily employed in mixing things up for each of
the men, the tramps soon had enough of the mêlée. First the tall fellow
gave tongue to indicate that he would be glad to surrender, at which
Hugh told him to fall flat on his face so they could secure his arms
behind him. Then the other, seeing how hopeless it was to try and ward
off a reinforced army, hastened to do likewise.
After they had both been secured with the stout cords Hugh had been wise
enough to carry along, being parts of the very rope used to lower Gusty
to the ledge where the scouts found him, all of the boys breathed
easier.
Billy fairly hugged the scout master in the exuberance of joy.
“We did it!” he panted, not having yet been able to recover fully from
his violent exertions. “They’re our prisoners of war, Hugh, taken in
fair battle! Hurrah for the Boy Scouts, say I!”
Up to this point things had been so dreadfully mixed that the hoboes had
not been able to understand what it all meant. When Billy thus gave
voice to his pent-up feelings, the shorter rascal rolled over on his
back, raised his head as well as his bound condition would allow, and
took a good look at their captors. Then he laughed harshly as though
completely disgusted.
“Say, wot d’ye know about it, Pete? We’ve gone an’ got cotched by a
parcel o’ kids, arter all! Me to the pen arter this. I’d be afraid o’
bein’ left alone in the dark for fear o’ ghosts. Sure we’re a couple o’
greenies to let Boy Scouts round us up. I wish somebody’d kick me, so’s
to find out if I’m awake or only dreamin’.”
Nobody volunteered to perform this kind office for him. The scouts were
quite willing, but had some consideration for the feelings of those whom
the fortunes of war chanced to throw into their hands.
“Gusty, do you know how much money they took from you?” asked the scout
master as he looked up from searching the pockets and clothing of the
pair.
He had his hands full of bills, and quite a hefty pile of silver lay on
the floor of the mill.
“I drew exactly fourteen hundred and sixty-three dollars from the bank,”
replied the other, his face lighted up with a happy smile; “thirty of it
was in silver, so as to make change in the pay of the men, who are on
piece work.”
“Count this then,” continued Hugh, “and as they haven’t had any chance
to get rid of a red cent, I should think you’d find it all here.”
To their surprise it turned out that there was considerably more than
that amount, some sixty-two dollars in fact. This proved that Pete and
Bill could not have been “dead broke” at the time they laid that trap in
order to stop the rich man’s son on the road, and rob him of the
quarrymen’s wages.
Gusty was greatly pleased. It was not altogether because he had
recovered both his runabout and the money taken from him. There was
something even more delightful in the knowledge that he himself had
shared in the capture of the robbers, having done his part of the work
of pulling the tall man down. And the new sensation gave him such a
splendid feeling that he was already looking on every one of the scouts
as a brother, whose further acquaintance he meant to zealously
cultivate.
As it was unreasonable to think of returning to the island camp that
night, the boys set about making themselves as comfortable as the
conditions allowed. When the fire had been replenished, things began to
take on a more cheerful air. Even the sad murmur of the dropping water
outside no longer inspired Billy and a few more of the boys with
thoughts of haunted houses and the like. In fact they rather liked it
now, though sticking close to the inside of the mill.
Still that was a very long night. Few of the scouts save Billy Worth
secured any sleep to mention; but nothing could ever keep him from
losing himself to the world.
Hugh often went over to where the two men were, and examined their bonds
so as to make sure that they were not breaking loose. He had taken a
wicked-looking gun from each tramp, and managed to let them understand
that he carried one of these with him for better protection.
When day broke, the scouts were early astir. It had been planned to
start over the ridge toward the river so as to reach the island camp by
breakfast time.
Although all of them were ferociously hungry, the boys made merry as
they trailed along. They felt that they had managed to do something that
would add another triumph to the already long list of praiseworthy deeds
credited to the troop.
In due time they passed over the divide. As agreed on, Hugh immediately
gave the signal to the two boys in camp that they were coming, so that
they might get busy with a bumper breakfast. Billy declared that he was
ready to eat them out of house and home, such was the sharp appetite
this early morning climb had given him.
The scout salute met the victorious army on its arrival, and for a brief
time the air was filled with the totem cries of the various patrols,
Wolf, Hawk, Fox and Otter combined in one grand pæan of victory.
Arthur Cameron was delighted because the friendly scout to whom he had
entrusted his camera had made sure to take several pictures of the group
with their prisoners at the mill, and again on the way over the wild
uplift that separated the scene of their late adventure from the river.
First of all, Hugh, after breakfast had been enjoyed, carried Monkey to
the place where the other two motorcycles had been left. Then he went
back and conveyed Billy the same way. This left only the runabout to be
looked after, and as they must use this in order to get their prisoners
to town, the scout master once more made the trip with a passenger
seated behind his saddle.
It promised to be a busy day indeed for some of the scouts. Hugh decided
to accompany Gusty when the two prisoners were taken to town. Then the
latter meant to start once more for the quarries with the money for the
semimonthly payroll. Doubtless there would be more or less anxiety up
there on account of his failure to arrive on the specified day.
Seeing that they were so near the quarries, Hugh finally changed his
mind and had Gusty first of all run over with the money. After that they
loaded the two bound men into the car, and managed to find places for
themselves.
The hoboes were delivered safely to the police, and were promptly
recognized as men long wanted for other crimes along the line of looting
country stores. Once again praise of the scouts was on everybody’s lips,
and they made new friends all around their home town.
Gusty pleaded with Hugh to be taken back to the island camp in order to
get better acquainted with those whom he meant to join later on; and,
pleased with the way things had turned out, the scout master was only
too glad to accommodate him.
They still had several days ahead of them before the return voyage was
to be undertaken, down the river and home by a circuitous route. Hugh
decided to manage to take his motorcycle aboard and keep company with
the others, for he wished to show Gusty so many things connected with
scoutcraft that he begrudged losing any time. Besides, Hugh believed in
striking while the iron was hot; and he did not mean that this eagerness
on the part of Gusty should find a chance to wane until he was a
full-fledged tenderfoot scout.
The return journey was made safely, though of course, not without
excitement and fun. As vacation time was now near its close, the boys
fancied that they would have to turn their thoughts somewhere else for
amusement. It happened, however, that events were shaping throughout the
home town in a manner to enlist Hugh and his comrades in an enterprise
calculated to show the scouts in quite another light than that of the
past, in which they had figured so prominently.
Just what these events were, and how well the wearers of the honored
khaki bore themselves in the test, will be made plain in the next story
of this series, under the name of “Boy Scouts for City Improvement.”
THE END.
Transcriber’s Notes
--Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public
domain in the country of publication.
--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and
dialect unchanged.
--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the
HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)
End of Project Gutenberg's The Boy Scouts in the Saddle, by Robert Shaler