TWO YOUNG PRISONERS
Left to themselves. Fred Garrison and Songbird Powell hardly knew
what to do to pass away the time. With all of the others away the
spot where the gasoline launch had been tied up appeared to be
unusually lonely.
"I can tell you what, I shouldn't care to be caught all alone at
night in such a spot as this," said Fred, with something of a shiver.
"It is about as dismal as any place I've seen."
"Right you are," murmured Songbird and then continued:
"The lonely waters washed the lonely shore,
Where they had washed full many a moon before,
I listened pensively--not a sound
Was there to break the tomblike silence all around!"
"Great mackerel, Songbird!" cried Fred. "Don't go on like that. It's
enough to give a fellow the creeps!" But the would-be poet only
continued:
"I listened for a single bird,
But not a note my ear there heard,
I looked up in the calm, clear sky--"
"And nervous enough was I to fly!" finished Fred, and went on:
"Songbird, if you've got to make up poetry give us something cheerful.
Can't you make up something about--er--about circus clowns, or apple
pie, or--er--"
"Circus clowns or apple pie!" snorted the would-be poet, in deep
disgust. "Well, you are the limit, Fred Garrison. No, I can't make
up poetry about circus pie or apple clo--I mean apple clowns or
circus, pshaw, you know what I mean--"
"I didn't mention mixed pickles," observed Fred, demurely. "But if
you can mix--What's that?"
He stopped short and straightened up on the launch seat, and so did
Songbird. Both had heard voices at a distance.
"They must be coming back," said Songbird. "It didn't take them long."
They listened, and set up a call, but no answer came back. Then they
looked around searchingly.
"That's funny," murmured Fred.
"I don't think it's funny," was the low answer. "Something is wrong."
"Help! My foot is caught!" came presently, in a muffled voice. "Hello,
the launch! Help me somebody, quick!"
"Who is that calling?" asked Songbird.
"Somebody of our crowd and in trouble," answered Fred, and leaped
ashore with Songbird at his heels.
The call had come from a thicket about a hundred feet away, and in
that direction dashed the two unsuspecting youths, never dreaming of
the plan laid to trap them. As they ran into the thicket four persons
came behind them, and in a trice each was thrown violently forward
on the ground and held there.
"Wha--what does this mean?" gasped Fred, as soon as he could get his
breath.
"It means that you are prisoners," came in the voice of Gasper Pold.
"Keep quiet now, it will be best for you."
"Blindfold 'em and be quick about it," came in a low tone from one
of the others of the party.
"Dan Baxter!" exclaimed Songbird, recognizing that voice. "Is it
possible! I thought you died in the swamp!"
"Hang the luck!" muttered the former bully of Putnam Hall. "I didn't
want them to know I was here."
By this time the two boys had had their hands tied behind them. Then
they were allowed to rise.
"Don't you make a noise, if you value your lives," came from another
of the men, and to their surprise they saw that it was Sack Todd,
one of the head counterfeiters of Red Rock ranch and the only man
who had escaped from the authorities at the time the noted gang was
rounded up. How slick an individual this chap was those who have read
"The Rover Boys on the Plains" already know.
The boys now saw that the fourth person who had attacked them and
made them prisoners was the carpenter Solly Jackson. The fellow took
small part in the proceedings and was apparently under the thumb of
Gasper Pold.
"What is the meaning of this outrage?" asked Songbird.
"You'll find out quick enough," answered Dan Baxter, with a chuckle.
"So you thought I perished in the swamp, eh? Ha! ha! I thought I'd
fool you!"
"Did you get away with Sack Todd?" asked Fred.
"Not exactly--but we soon met--after that fight was over--and here
we are, to fix you for interfering with our business," went on the
big bully.
"Look here, Baxter, we can't stop to talk now," broke in Gasper Pold.
"Those other fellows will be back soon. We've got to make the best
possible use of our time."
"Tie 'em to the trees," said Sack Todd. "Quick now, and then we'll
be off. You say you can run the launch?" he asked, turning to the
former bully of Putnam Hall.
"Sure I can--used to do that sort of thing at home, years ago,"
replied Dan Baxter.
Without ceremony Fred and Songbird were tied fast to two trees near
by, the ropes being passed from their wrists directly around each
tree. Then the men and Baxter departed, taking with them several
heavy bundles which they had been carrying.
"That stuff they have must be from the houseboat," said Fred, when
he and Songbird were left alone in the forest. "They are going to
run off with it on the launch!"
"I reckon you are right." Songbird gave a groan. "Gosh! they tied my
wrists together so tightly the blood won't circulate!"
"They are first-class rascals, and Dan Baxter is as bad as any of
them," was the answer. "Isn't it strange that he should escape from
that swamp, and after losing his horse, too!"
After that the two prisoners listened intently and soon heard the
putt-putt of the gasoline launch, as the power was turned on. Gradually
the sound grew fainter and fainter.
"They are off!" sighed Fred. "Perhaps now we'll never see the launch
again!"
"This will make Harold Bird angry, Fred. First his pet dog and now
his new launch. He'll want to land those rascals in jail just as much
as we do."
Half an hour went by--the young prisoners thought it must be four
times that long,--and still nobody came near them. Each tried to free
himself from his bonds, but without avail. Fred cut one wrist and
Songbird scraped off the skin and that was all.
"It's no use," sighed the would-be poet. "We'll have to stay here
till the others get back."
"What fools we were to be deceived into thinking one of our party
was in trouble! I thought that cry for help didn't seem just right.
We walked right into the trap."
"I was afraid--My gracious me! Look!"
At this exclamation both boys looked into the forest they were facing
and there they saw a sight that almost made the blood freeze in their
veins. Crouching down between some bushes was a bob cat larger than
either of those that had been killed the night before.
"Oh!" cried Songbird. "Scat!"
At the cry the bob cat turned and disappeared into the bushes like
a flash. But then they heard it leap into a tree, and the rustling
of the branches told them only too plainly that it was approaching
closer and closer.
"This is--is awful!" groaned Fred. "It will surely pounce down and
tear us to pieces. Help! help, somebody! Help!"
Songbird joined in the cry and the forest rang loudly with the sounds
of their voices. Then they stopped to get their breath.
"I see him--he is almost over our heads!" gasped Songbird. "Help!
Help!" he yelled, at the top of his lungs.
"What's the trouble?" came from close at hand, and Dick Rover burst
into view, with Tom and Sam at his heels and each with his revolver
drawn. Not far behind were Hans and Harold Bird.
"A bob cat! Look out for him!" cried Fred.
"Protect us!" put in Songbird. "We are helpless!"
"See, they are tied to the trees!" exclaimed Tom. "What does this mean?"
"I see the bob cat!" said Sam Rover, and without ado fired up into
the tree. Down came the beast, spitting viciously and clawing the
air, to fall at Tom's feet. Bang! went Tom's pistol and then all of
the others fired, and almost as quick as I can tell it the beast lay
dead where it had fallen. Then the boys looked around for other bob
cats, but none showed themselves.
"Oh, how thankful I am that you came," said Fred, as he was being
released.
"And you didn't arrive a minute too soon either," said Songbird.
"That bob cat was getting ready to spring on us! It was a narrow escape!"
"Who made you prisoners?" asked Dick. "But I suppose it was that
Gasper Pold and his tools."
"Yes, and who do you think his tools are?" answered Fred.--"Solly
Jackson, Sack Todd--"
"Sack Todd!" exclaimed Sam.
"Yes, and Dan Baxter."
"Baxter!" came from the others.
"The young rascal you told me about?" said Harold Bird.
"Exactly, and all of them have run away with your launch," put in
Songbird. "They went quite a while ago."
"I was afraid of it," answered the young Southerner. "Of course they
must have steered for Lake Sico."
"Yes, and as they have had a good start, they must be a long way off
by now," added Tom.