d.i.c.k turned to the men, his face gleaming with pleasure.
"There will be a posse on the way in a short time. The radio worked," he announced.
The little group of men burst into a cheer and were silenced only by the threat of the guards outside to come in and make them stop.
Feeling that they had done all that could be done, they prepared to turn in and wait the coming of the morn with its posse headed by Sheriff Brown.
The men rolled in, but d.i.c.k was too excited to sleep, and he told Mr.
Boone, in a low tone, of all that had transpired since they had reached the camp. Of course he was unable to tell of the way in which the timber was stolen, as he had not seen his chums when they returned from their expedition that night he was captured.
Mr. Boone was silent for some few minutes after d.i.c.k had concluded his talk. He was worried about Garry and Phil, and d.i.c.k, noting his silence, asked him what the trouble was.
When he found the reason for Mr. Boone"s worry, he endeavored to cheer him up.
"The chances are that they have not fallen into the hands of anyone at the camp here, else they would have been brought here with us. I am certain that they have discovered some clue and are following it up.
Very likely they are searching for me, as they of course do not know I am here."
Being ignorant of all that had transpired, d.i.c.k did not know how near at that moment his chums were.
As they talked, they were being guided towards the road by King. It was necessary to make a wide detour in order to avoid running into a stray member of the camp traitors" party.
Garry was well satisfied with part of the night"s work. In the first place, he had proof that Carson, his father"s business enemy, was at the bottom of the whole mess, and in the second place, he felt that he had so effectively disabled the motor launch that no more timber would be stolen that night. By the next day, he expected to have the whole gang rounded up.
They finally reached the road, and were half way to the town, when they heard the sound of what they thought was a large auto truck coming towards them.
When they drew near the truck, they saw a dozen rifles leveled at them, and a stern voice told them to halt. They feared for a moment that they had walked into a new trap.
One of the men leaped from the truck and asked them who they were and what their business was.
"My name is Boone," answered Garry, acting as the spokesman for his little party. "I am on my way to try and locate the sheriff of the county, as my father and friends are held prisoner at the Boone lumber cutting camp."
"Well, I"m the sheriff, and I"m on my way there now. We"ll look you over in a moment and see if you"re all right."
The words of the sheriff surprised Garry.
"How did you know that you were wanted at the camp?"
"My boy picked a message out of the air with his radio, and that"s how we found out," answered the sheriff.
Garry gave a shout of joy. "Good for d.i.c.k, he managed somehow to get a chance to use his wireless."
"Now," said the sheriff, "lower the muzzles of those rifles and come forward slowly. My men have you covered and you have no chance for any monkey business."
Knowing that they could soon convince the sheriff of their statements, they did as they were bade. When they came into the light cast by the headlights of the truck, the sheriff at once recognized Art Howells.
"h.e.l.lo, Art, guess that is all I want to know. These fellows all right?
I know you well enough to take your word for it."
"They are absolutely O.K., Sheriff," answered Art. "We were on our way to summon you when you met us."
Howells" words satisfied the sheriff, and they proceeded to get acquainted all around. Garry asked if that was the pretext of the posse, for he counted only fifteen men, and was relieved when he was told that another truck with the same number of men was following them, but had been obliged to stop for a short time on account of engine trouble.
As they spoke they heard the rumble of an engine and a short time later the second truck hove into view.
"It lacks about an hour and a half of daylight, so I think we ought to be getting on. If possible we can surprise them in the dark, that would win half the battle for us. Not that I expect there will be much of a fight, when they see that the law is after them," said the sheriff.
"I don"t think I would trust the authority of the law half as much as our rifles," said Garry. "Those men are desperate, some of them, and if they see prison staring them in the face, they will fight all the harder, figuring that they might as well be taken for sheep as for lambs," said Garry. "Besides, they have two bad men with them, meaning the two halfbreeds, Jean and Baptiste LeBlanc. Jean is already wanted for a half a dozen serious crimes, including kidnapping and setting fire to forests; also he is an escaped jail bird. With that kind, it means fight to the end before being taken."
"Come to think of it, I"ve seen a notice in my office offering a reward for his capture. I"d like to get that chap, and I could use the reward,"
said the sheriff.
They had ridden as they talked, and soon were on the outskirts of the camp.
But something had gone wrong. A volley of shots whistled at them from cover, and they were forced to beat a short retreat instead of springing a surprise on their quarry as they had intended to do.
"Now, that"s funny; how did they get on to that?" muttered the sheriff.
It later developed that Barrows had posted sentinels in the woods along the road, and as soon as their approach was noted, they had, by a pre-arranged signal, pa.s.sed the word of the coming to the posse.
This word having been received at the camp, hasty preparations had been made to receive them. The prisoners, about twenty in all, had been marched at the points of guns to the storehouse, and there were forced to enter the storehouse. There was hardly room enough for them, and little air, but they were crowded in like so many sardines in a can, while the enemy fortified themselves in the log bunkhouse.
The opening volley of shots had come from the sentinels who had closed in and fired as they ran for shelter to the bunkhouse.
"Well, we"re stumped for a minute now," said the sheriff. "They could hold us off for a long time in that bunkhouse. It is built of solid logs, and bullets, unless they were aimed at the windows, would have no effect on that wood. We"ve got to think up some way of rushing "em or smoking "em out. Anyone got a plan in mind?"
"Yes, sir, I think I have," spoke up Phil. "As soon as it gets just a little bit lighter we can rush one of the trucks back through the woods to the sawmill, and there we can sheath the truck with some of that timber. A very thick bulwark can be made, and that will halt the bullets. Half of the men can stay near the bunkhouse drawing fire with their rifles while the truck is being fixed."
"But what good is that going to do us?" broke in the sheriff.
"Just let me finish. I know that there are three or four sticks of dynamite at the sawmill, that were part of the lot bought to blast away the stumps where the mill and camp shacks were built. With what wire I have in my pack, and some of the batteries from my wireless, I can rig up a small mine at the side of the log hut, where there is no window.
The shield on the truck would be to allow us to get there in safety."
"But wouldn"t that be an awful thing to do, Phil?" asked Garry. "We couldn"t blow those men up without warning."
"No, that isn"t my idea. I would have one of the party carry a flag of truce into the camp and explain to the men what had been done, and give them two minutes to surrender. If they did not, then go ahead and blow her up. Few would be hurt, and those only slightly. The blast would make a breach in the wall through which we could wage a more even battle, if it comes to an actual fight. But I think the fear of the dynamite would be enough to do the trick. Besides, we could promise that the lumberjacks would be allowed to go in peace; only the princ.i.p.als would be held. If those jacks were the kind that would play traitor to the camp they were working for, they would double cross Barrows to save their own skins."
"By gosh, boy, I believe you have struck the very idea. At any rate, it"s worth a trial. I"ll go with you in the truck with some of the men, and leave the deputy here with the others."
The plan was put into execution, and the truck made a dash over the uneven ground past the bunkhouse. A volley of shots greeted them as they tore past, and two of the men uttered exclamations of pain. Fortunately they had only the merest flesh wounds, which Phil bound for them with a small first aid bandage that he had in his pocket.
The barrier was built in record time at the sawmill, and Phil rescued the dynamite from its hiding place. He had feared for a moment that it might have been removed, but evidently in the haste of fortifying themselves in the bunkhouse, no one of the enemy had thought of it.
The return to the bunkhouse then started. When within a striking distance of it, the truck was turned around and, throwing his clutch into reverse, the driver skillfully backed it towards the log house.
Several shots were fired, then there was a silence. Evidently those inside the building were at loss to understand what this peculiar form of attack meant.
Phil knew that his job would be a perilous one, but he knew his duty was to do what he had planned. The barrier was raised up and he slipped to the ground. He felt a measure of safety in the thought that the enemy could see what was going on, and would be unlikely to send spies out, since the men of the posse in the other truck could pick them off if they came out.