The Ranger Boys Outwit the Timber Thieves Part 23

By this time they were well away from sh.o.r.e and out of danger of a possible shot.

Garry began to laugh.

"No wonder they are shouting and cursing there. I swam to the boat that time I left you and cut the wires on the engine; and to be sure, I took out the spark plugs, and have them in my pocket. It will be some time before they get that boat into condition to chase us!"

"Good boy," said Art admiringly.

The return across the lake was without eventful occurrence, however, for with them was the hermit.

Garry greeted him warmly. "What news?" he asked.

"I fear I am the bearer of bad news," said the hermit.

"Your father has come to the camp and been caught, so I judge from what I heard said by two men a while ago as I lay close to the road that leads here. Also many of the lumberjacks are kept captive in one of the shacks, and a heavy guard has been set over them. I think we had better go for help; we can't battle them alone, our numbers are too few."

Garry was for going at once to the rescue of his father, but the others restrained him.

"We can't do anything there, and we can be of great help on the outside.

There is a sheriff in town, and we can get word to him, and have him round up a posse sufficiently large to capture the whole outfit,"

advised Art.

Reluctantly Garry agreed that this was the wisest thing to do.

"King, guide us around so that we can avoid the camp, but get to the road that leads to town. We'll get a posse and give them a battle,"

directed Garry.

Without a word, King led the way, and the others followed.

In the meantime, Mr. Boone and d.i.c.k had been led from the storehouse and taken to the bunkhouse, where the rest of the prisoners were.

There were shouts of welcome when some of the old woodsmen saw Mr.

Boone. Although he was the owner of the timber tract, and their employer, they hailed him as "Moose" and shook his hand energetically.

"By gosh. I'm ashamed to look you in the face, Moose," cried one of the lumberjacks. "To think we let a bunch like that crowd outside there put it over on us; men that have fought with rifle and peavy stick when some crowd tried to steal the river from us. Gosh, if we had a few axes and peavy sticks now we could get out there and make that bunch look sick, but all have rifles and revolvers. Barrows must've had a regular armory with him."

They were still talking and trying without success to puzzle a way out of their predicament, when d.i.c.k gave a shout of joy.

"There's my knapsack. That lets me see light right now!"

The men looked at him in astonishment. How a mere knapsack could help them was not to be understood.

"That was chucked in here by one of the men yesterday, before we were captured. He saw it in the shack, and remembering it belonged to one of you, took it for safe keeping. It was Tom there, who brought it."

Tom was the man who had taken them on the c.o.o.n hunt, and one they had been suspicious of, but here he was with the loyal men.

d.i.c.k hurriedly opened the knapsack. Yes, there it was, safe and sound, the wireless outfit!

"Now one of you fellows get up there and dig a hole in the roof; it only need be a small one, that I can slide this aerial up through. It ought not to take more than an hour."

"We haven't any knife," said one of the men. "They took away all our knives and matches from us."

d.i.c.k secured his knife from its secret pocket in the lapel, and handed it to one of the men.

"One of you set to work, and the others keep talking so that the guards outside will not become suspicious and look in here."

"Are you going to try something with the radio-phone," asked Mr. Boone, who was the only one who grasped what d.i.c.k's intentions were.

"Yes; it's our only chance. I happened to notice that there were two aerials over houses in the last town we pa.s.sed through before coming to the camp, and I saw some radio apparatus in a store window, so evidently some one there has an outfit. Fortunately I have the receiving apparatus here as well as a sender, and we can find out if my message is received by anyone."

As he talked, he adjusted the apparatus, ready to send his plea for help through s.p.a.ce and hope that someone would be listening in.

"Hurry!" he called to the man who was boring through the board roof with the knife. "It's almost time for the usual radio broadcasting stations to stop sending, and I want to get someone while they are still listening in, just as the broadcasting station closes."

"There, guess that's all right, unless you want it a little bigger,"

said the man who had been working.

d.i.c.k looked up at the hole and saw that it would do all right.

Most of the men were frankly incredulous. The thought of talking through a 'phone that had no wires was a riddle to them, as few or none of them knew anything about radio.

One of them suggested that instead of wasting time with such a "fool contrivance," they try to tear away the boards from the roof and take a chance on overpowering the guards. This was discouraged by the others who, though they were by no means cowardly, knew it would be foolhardy to face guns with only their bare hands.

"Let's give the boy a chance with his infernal machine first," advised a grizzled old lumberjack. "Then if it don't work, we can try something else."

d.i.c.k adjusted the aerial, and then tuning up, got ready to talk into the transmitter.

"Some of you men keep talking over there by the door, and the rest of you get near the windows and block anyone from seeing in. Don't talk too loud, just enough to cover my voice."

For nearly ten minutes d.i.c.k repeated over and over again:

"S. O. S. Send a sheriff with large posse to Boone's camp. Owner and some of men held prisoners. Answer if you get message."

Then there was a crackling sound in the receivers that were clasped to his head, and with a thrill he knew that someone was trying to get him.

He adjusted the tuning apparatus with trembling fingers. The voice still sputtered and crackled. Finally he got the right wave length, and heard a welcome voice.

"h.e.l.lo, are you sending help call?"

"Yes," almost shouted d.i.c.k. "Who are you?"

"Brown talking. My father is sheriff. Are you in earnest?"

"Yes, surely. Hurry posse on way. You'll need thirty or forty men. We are held prisoners in bunkhouse here. Captors are all armed. Be careful.

This is last call; act quick, as I'm going to pack up radio for fear I will be discovered and apparatus broken. Goodnight."

"Going for Dad now, goodnight," came the voice. There was a sputter, then silence.