The Radio Boys On Secret Service Duty Part 28

Not even daring to whisper, Bob and Jack held their places in the boat and watched Frank's figure melt silently into the darkness.

Presently the sound of men pa.s.sing ceased. Not a word had been uttered among them that Bob and Jack could overhear. Nor had the chums ventured to speak to each other. What had become of Frank? Bob looked at his watch with the illuminated dial. Ten or twelve minutes had pa.s.sed. There was no longer any sound on the trail above. He could stand the suspense just about three minutes more, he whispered to Jack, and then he, too, would take the trail to see what had become of Frank.

He was preparing to put his plan into execution when Frank reappeared, swinging down the bank with less precaution than before and obviously in a state of high excitement.

"Fellows, that was 'Black George' and his engineer and nearly a score of Chinese," he said. "They're moving fast down the canyon. Matt Murphy and a handful of men have been left behind. I overheard 'Black George' and his engineer in whispered conversation, and I gathered what their plan is. I was crouching in a tree up here above the trail. Their plan is for Matt Murphy and his gang to keep our men bottled up in the stockade, while 'Black George' goes down to try to surprise and capture the Sub Chaser."

"Evidently Ensign Warwick's Chinese guide was a traitor all right," said Jack.

"First thing, Jack, is to radio Robbins and warn him what's coming,"

suggested Bob.

"Right," said Jack, and turned to comply.

Frank again swung up to the trail to guard against surprise while Jack telephoned. At the conclusion of his conversation, Jack called to him in a low voice and Frank returned to the boat.

"Robbins suggests that we attack Matt Murphy and his party from the rear," he said. "Murphy cannot have many men left, probably merely enough to keep dropping a shot now and then and lead our men in the stockade to believe all 'Black George's' men still face them. If we open vigorous fire from different quarters it will seem to Matt's men that reinforcements have arrived to attack them in the rear and they may make a break to get away. Moreover, the sound of the firing will induce our fellows to come out of the stockade. Shall we try it?"

"I'm game," said Bob.

"Me, too," declared Frank, ungrammatically.

"One thing we must all remember, however," Jack said firmly. "That is, not to take chances. Keep a considerable distance from the enemy. We don't want to shoot any of them, but merely to frighten them into withdrawing."

"All right," said Bob, impatient for action. "Come on."

Examining their revolvers by flashlight to see that all was in order, the boys scrambled ash.o.r.e with Frank in the lead, as he had acquired a familiarity with the route. The boat was tied securely to the bank.

Walking in Indian file, they proceeded along the trail to the bend earlier described by Frank. Rounding it, they saw open before them the valley of which Frank also had spoken. Although there was no moon, their eyes were accustomed to the darkness, and by the pale light of the stars they could see sufficiently well to gain a good idea of their surroundings.

The valley broadened out to the width of, perhaps, half a mile. Close to them on the left was the hill crowned by the stockade. This hill, bare of verdure and low, jutted up from the floor of the valley and independent of the higher hills behind it. The posts of the stockade made a serrated line against the clear night sky.

"Murphy's men must be close at hand," Bob whispered.

"It was right here that I almost stumbled on them before," answered Frank, low-voiced. "We must be careful."

"Look there. I saw someone moving," said Jack, gripping Bob's arm, and pointing ahead.

They stood pressed against the canyon wall, trying to pierce the darkness. Everything was so shadowy and unreal, however, that Frank's gaze following where Jack indicated could make nothing of it, nor could Bob discern anything to indicate the presence of the enemy. At that moment Matt Murphy's voice raised in a guarded hail came from the shadows in the direction to which Jack had pointed.

"Who's there? That you Mac?"

Murphy believed one of "Black George's" party had returned. Probably, from the name he employed, he considered it was MacFinney, the engineer.

Jack thought quickly.

"Down. Crouch down, and scatter," he whispered.

Frank and Bob dropped and disappeared to right and left respectively in the low brush. Murphy called again, a note of anxiety in his voice:

"Who's there? Answer or I'll fire."

Jack's reply was a shot from his revolver, purposely aimed high. He had no desire to injure Murphy. Then he ran to one side, fired again, and a third time and then taking shelter behind a rock awaited developments.

Bob and Frank who, it had been agreed beforehand, should go not more than twenty paces away in order that they all might keep in touch with each other in case it was necessary to come together again for protection or make a dash back to the boat, also opened fire.

Murphy fired only once, after Jack's first shot. The bullet pinged against the canyon wall. Then he turned and, although the boys could not see him, they could hear him das.h.i.+ng back, and surmised he was going to rejoin his men.

Jack decided a little noise now would not come amiss and would help to increase the alarm and mystification of Murphy's party as well as apprise their own men in the stockade that friends were at hand. He began to yell "Attaboy, give it to 'em." Bob and Frank, closer at hand than he thought, joined in vociferously. They made a praiseworthy din that would have done credit to a dozen men at least.

In the midst of it, answering cheers came back from the stockade and then over the palings leaped Ensign Warwick and Inspector Burton with their men. The boys could not see, but they could hear. Shots and cheers rang out, and the boys not to be outdone redoubled their former efforts, at the same time keeping up a brisk revolver fire at the sky.

It was too much for Matt Murphy and the half-dozen Chinese left in his charge. Their only thought one of escape, they bolted for the trail down the canyon. A surprised grunt from Bob indicated that one of the fleeing Chinese had blundered into him. Bob landed a blow on the side of the fellow's head that was sufficient. It bowled the man over, and Bob leaped forward and sat on him.

Frank saw a dark form scuttle along near him and, unwilling to fire, picked up a stone half as big as his fist and let fly with it. The missile caught the fugitive behind the ear and he, too, went down. Frank ran forward and bent over the still form. By the bandaged arm, he could tell it was Murphy.

Alarmed, he bent closer. But Murphy was breathing heavily. He had merely been knocked out. Frank stood over him undecided what to do. A voice hailed from the darkness:

"Where are you, Frank?"

Frank called, and Jack came up.

"h.e.l.lo, you've got a prisoner, too. Why, it's Murphy. Bob also captured a man, a Chinese. Four or five others ran by me and hit the trail."

A hail from the darkness ahead in Ensign Warwick's voice came to their ears:

"Where are you, Robbins?"

"It's not Robbins, sir," answered Jack. "But Jack Hampton. My chums are with me."

"Thank G.o.d," cried the young naval officer, running forward, and while still some paces away. "So you three fellows are safe? I didn't miss you until we arrived here, and then things happened so rapidly I couldn't go back to look for you. What happened? But, wait, here's Inspector Burton."

The Secret Service man approached, throwing the glare of his flashlight over the boys. A number of the sailors closed around them. Others who had followed the fugitives a short distance along the trail but had turned back, according to orders to stick together, could be seen approaching. A number of flashlights lighted up the scene.

"Why, you're wounded," said Jack, glancing at a blood-stained handkerchief bound about the Secret Service man's forehead.

"A nasty crack, but nothing dangerous," replied Inspector Burton. "But where in the world did you boys drop from? Ensign Warwick thought you lost or captured."

"And where is Robbins? I thought it was he attacking, and that's why we left the stockade," supplemented the naval officer.

Briefly as possible, Jack recounted their adventures, interrupted frequently by expressions of approval and warm commendation from Ensign Warwick and Inspector Burton. The boys wanted to know what had happened to the other two parties, but Ensign Warwick said:

"That story will have to wait. Meantime, if we hurry we can get to the landing almost as soon as 'Black George.' Leave the boat tied up and come with us. You can make better time."

CHAPTER XXVII-BLACK GEORGE CAPTURED -----------------------------------

Murphy and the captured Chinese were bound and put aboard the boat. But first Robbins was apprised. "Black George" had not appeared yet. No time was wasted detaching the aerial. It was abandoned. Then one of the sailors, who had been shot in the fleshy part of the right leg and thus could not maintain the rapid pace of the party, was put at the oars with instructions to follow down stream until he reached the landing.

With that the others set out at a trot. All were young and active, even Inspector Burton being still in his thirties and in excellent physical condition. They were unenc.u.mbered with baggage of any sort.

Ensign Warwick in the lead set a killing pace. Jack, Bob and Frank, however, thanks to their training in long-distance running at Harrington Hall, were enabled to keep up without difficulty. Inspector Burton surprised them all by sticking close.