The Hostage
Meanwhile the four prisoners held a furtive conference among themselves,
and after Cub had finished his telegraphic conversation with the Canadian
amateur, the leader of the worthy quartet addressed Mr. Baker as follows:
"Looky here, Mister man, we've decided that we're not going to stay here
any longer. You ain't got nothin' on us, and you haven't got any reason
to hold us up with those guns. We haven't done nothin' criminal, and we
don't intend to be held for crim'nals. We'll tell you where your kids are
and ev'rything'll be all right if you keep off o' our islands. We own
all these islands here, and we're not goin' to 'low no trespassin'."
"The main trouble with your proposition is that we have no way of
knowing whether you're telling the truth," answered Mr. Baker. "Can you
tell us where the boys are and then prove that they're there before we
let you go?"
"We c'n tell you where they are and you must take our word fer it," was
the fellow's reply. "They're over on the first island in that direction,
pointing to the southwest. You can't miss it. It's an island about the
same size as this one, all by itself. You'll find 'em there if somebody
hasn't taken 'em off."
"No, that won't do," replied Mr. Baker. "We can't afford to let you go."
"All right, then, let me tell you something more," said the spokesman of
the strange quartet, whose self-confidence and courage seemed to be on
the increase. "Do you see that stake there?"--indicating the visible end
of a piece of wood similar to a guy-rope stake, that had been driven into
the ground at a point midway between the two hostile conferees.
"I see it very plainly," Mr. Baker replied.
"Do you know what it means?"
"I must confess my ignorance."
"Well, I have a surprise for you. There are other stakes driven about a
hundred feet apart clear across this island east and west. That is the
dividing line between the United States and Canada. You are a Canadian,
ain't you?"
"I am."
"Well, that line there means that you are now in Canada and we are in
the United States. If you come over here to take us you are invading
the United States. If you shoot at us, you are shooting across the
border line at citizens of the United States. I defy you to commit any
such act."
Mr. Baker was "almost taken off his feet" by the shrewdness of this
argument, and for several moments he was unable to make any intelligent
reply. Cub also was nonplused at the "international situation". However,
the ludicrous element of the affair did not escape them, and presently
Mr. Baker was hurling the following heated rejoinder at the spokesman of
the unfriendly four:
"Now, see here, my fine fellow, I'm not going to listen to this nonsense
any longer. My son has been kidnapped by you scoundrels, and I am a
desperate man right now. I am in a mood at this moment to snap my fingers
at international lines, if what you say is the truth. I don't care to
dispute your word on so flimsy a subject. But here is the only compromise
I am willing to make with you. One of you has got to stay here a prisoner
until those boys are returned to us. I'm in dead earnest, believe me. If
you try to escape, I'll shoot, and if necessary, I'll shoot to kill. Now
you come right over here into Canada as quick as ever you know how, for
if you don't, in a very few seconds I'm going to begin to shoot. I'm a
good shot and my bullets will hit your feet first. Your companions may go
and as soon as they bring back those three missing boys you may go, too.
Now, come along into Canada. Hurry up, I'm going to count ten, and if
you're still over there in the United States contaminating the soil and
atmosphere of Uncle Sam with your impudence after I've stopped counting,
I'm going to begin to shoot. If I have to bring you over into Canada,
you'll come on a stretcher--see? Now I'll begin to count--one, two,
three, four, five, six, seven, eight--"
The brave spokesman of the unwelcome visitors collapsed at Number 8 and
shuffled rapidly toward the counter with the automatic pistol. His three
companions, inspired, no doubt, with an eagerness commensurate with his
panic, broke into a run and soon disappeared in the thicket at the rear
of the camp.
"You'd better call after your friends and remind them that it's up to
them to bring those boys back or your fate hangs by a thread," Mr.
Baker advised as he proceeded to examine the fellow's pockets for
dangerous weapons.
But the prisoner was either too sullen or too much frightened to respond
to any suggestion requiring the exercise of wits. He merely obeyed
clear-cut orders and turned a deaf ear to all other utterances on the
part of his captors.
"We'd better secure him so that there'll be no chance of his getting
away," Cub suggested. "There are some pieces of guy-rope in the tent.
I'll get them and we'll fix him in a condition of safety."
Accordingly he went into the tent and a moment later reappeared with two
pieces of rope, the strands of which he unplaited and knotted together,
end to end, and then tested the knots by straining them across his knee.
"Now, we're ready," he said, addressing the prisoner. "Turn around and
put your hands together behind you. There, that's right. I'll try not to
be too cruel, but I must tie this rope pretty tight. Holler if it
tortures you, but I must be the judge as to whether you can stand it.
There, you won't be able to do any mischief with your hands. Now, come
on; well go into the tent and take care of your lower extremities, as you
know we couldn't afford to let you walk away. We have to hold you for
ransom, you know, and the ransom is three healthy, uninjured boys."
The prisoner obeyed without a word, and a few moments later he was tied
on the ground in the tent with legs also securely bound.
"Now, I'll proceed to report developments to our radio friend at
Rockport," Cub announced as he and Mr. Baker came out in the open again.
With these words he sat down at the table, donned the phone headpiece and
began to work the key. He had no difficulty in getting into communication
with the Canadian amateur again, and gave him a detailed account of what
had taken place since his last report of earlier developments.
"My father is on the way alone in the Catwhisker, bound for Rockport,"
the boy added after finishing his account of the dispute with the
professed owners of the island. "Can you get word to him of what has
happened? Tell him to come back with a few armed men as soon as
possible."
"I will run down to the docks and meet him," returned Max. "Maybe I will
come along."
That ended their code conversation for the time being, and Max started at
a brisk pace for the municipal docks.
Meanwhile, Mr. Baker and Cub kept an alert watch over their prisoner and
the camp in general to guard against a surprise, for they were not
unmindful of the danger of an attempt on the part of the three departed
visitors to overthrow the advantage the man and the boy had gained
through the instrumentality of two dangerous weapons. But soon they found
time dragging heavily on their hands, so that it is no wonder that before
long they began to cast about them for something to do that would add to
the small degree of hopefulness of their situation.
"Let's bring that fellow out here and see what we can get out of him,"
Cub proposed at last. "Maybe we can induce him to tell us something,"
"All right," Mr. Baker replied; "but we must not forget to keep a sharp
lookout while we're quizzing him."
"You go in and bring him out, and I'll keep watch to prevent a surprise,"
Cub proposed.
This being agreeable to Mr. Baker, the plan was soon put into effect. The
rope strands around the prisoner's ankles were removed and he was led out
into the open. True to his resolve not to be caught napping, Cub now kept
on the move and on the alert, describing a small circle around the
position of the two men who were seated on camp chairs about twenty feet
from the tent.
"I've brought you out here for a sociable chat," Mr. Baker explained,
while Cub gave close attention in order that he might not lose a word. "I
hope you'll be as sociable as I shall try to be, for if you're not, I
shall have to take you back into the tent and shackle your feet again."
The fellow did not reply, although his silence could hardly be attributed
to a spirit of sullenness.
"Maybe you'll tell me a little more than you were willing to tell me in
the presence of your friends," Mr. Baker continued. "I'd like to know
something about the business and associations of you and your friends, so
that we may know how to treat your demands. Now, rest assured that none
of us has any desire to do any illegal trespassing, and as soon as you've
proved to us that you own this island and that we are unwelcome on these
premises, we'll get off and beg your pardon for our intrusion. But you
don't seem to have established any camp here and you don't seem to be
able to produce as much evidence of ownership as we can."
Mr. Baker now waited a few moments for a response to his introductory
statement, but none came. The fellow seemed to be almost embarrassed
by the straightforward and well connected ideas of the man who
addressed him.
"Well, let's see," Mr. Baker continued. "How can I present the matter so
as to start you out right? Perhaps you will be willing to tell me who you
are and what your business is. But first. I'll be fair and introduce
myself. My Name is James C. Baker. I live in Port Hope, and my business
is that of hay, grain and feed merchant. Now, will you tell me your name?
One of your friends called you Captain. Do you run a boat on the river?"
Whether the fellow was about to reply or would continue in stubborn
silence may not be known, for the thus-far-one-sided conversation
was suddenly interrupted by a shout of eager joy from the pacing
boy sentinel.
"Oh, there they come, there they come," the latter shouted. "There are
Hal and Bud."
Sure enough, two boys had just emerged from the narrow belt of bushes
between the camp area and the only practical landing place of the island.