Boy Scouts on Motorcycles Part 6

"Say, but you're a b.u.m lot!" he cried. "Why don't you go back to the Pyramids and sleep for another thousand years? There ain't no nourishment in sitting up there like a dime museum, for there's no one sellin' tickets at the door."

"Look behind you!"

That was the English voice again, seemingly out of the heavy air, or out of the storm outside. Jimmie turned quickly and saw his chums nicely tied up.

In a moment he turned back to the row of six, without even exchanging a look with his friends.

"Who's doin' the talkin'," he asked.

Frank and Jack were now too impatient to know what had become of their leader to delay longer. The latter asked:

"Where's Ned?"

"Ask this lineup," Jimmie replied. "I don't know. Gee! If I had a face like that man on the end, I'd sell it to the wild man of Borneo, its an improvement on anythin' he could get up. Say, Old Socks!" he added, "where is Ned?"

"Packed up, ready for delivery," was the reply. "Say, how would you wild animals like to take a jaunt on your motorcycles to-night? Nice cool night for a ride! You might reach Poking by morning and report to the American amba.s.sador!"

"We'll get there in due time," Frank answered.

"I've drawn the teeth of this collection of wild animals, at all events," said the voice. "No more Wolves and Black Bears will be apt to come to China. Such collections are not popular here."

Jimmie dropped back to where his chums were seated. Serious as the situation was, the boy could not restrain a smile as he threw himself down beside Frank. The storm was still thundering outside, and splashes of rain now and then whirled in at the open cas.e.m.e.nt.

The lantern which illuminated the interior of the room showed only a round blotch against the darkness. In this circle sat the six silent men, watchful but motionless.

"It might be a scene in a play!" Jimmie exclaimed.

Frank nodded and whispered:

"Did they get Ned, too?"

Jimmie nodded. His face was grave in an instant.

"Where is he?" Frank whispered.

The little fellow shook his head. Then the voice which seemed to come from nowhere was heard again:

"You'll meet him in due time," it said.

A long silence followed. The lantern which gave out the light flickered in the wind and the beat of the rain increased in violence. In all the adventurous lives of the Boy Scouts nothing so weird, so uncanny, as this had ever occurred.

"Well," Jack said, more to break the strange silence than for any other purpose, "why don't you say something?"

Then, through the clamor of the storm, came the sharp ring of steel. It sounded to the listening boys like the purring of two swords directed against each other by strong hands.

Instantly the light was extinguished, and the shuffling of feet told the captives that the watchful six were getting into upright positions.

"h.e.l.lo, the house!"

The challenging call came from the street outside.

"That's good, honest United States!" Jimmie whispered. "Shall I risk an answer?"

"You'll probably get a knife in your side if you do," Frank answered.

"The c.h.i.n.ks are still in the room."

"Show a light!"

The voice was nearer than before, and the three boys lifted to their feet and moved toward the window, which was just above where they had been sitting. Frank was about to throw himself out into the storm when a muscular hand seized him by the arm.

"Nothing doing!" a voice said in his ear.

"If you move again, or try to answer the call, that will be the last of one Black Bear. Remain silent while I talk with your friends."

"Our friends?" repeated Frank.

"Certainly," was the reply--given with a chuckle. "Your very good friends from the American ship in the harbor."

There was torture in the words, in the fierce grip on the arm. The promised a.s.sistance had arrived and the boys were powerless to make their perilous situation known!

But a hopeful thought came to the brain of the boy as he was dragged away from the open window. It was barely possible that Ned had escaped, that he knew of the peril his friends were in, and would arrive before the Americans were, by some treacherous falsehood, sent away.

"Nestor!" cried the voice outside. "Are you there? Show a light."

There was a rustle in the room, then black silence.

CHAPTER VI

WITH THE FLYING SQUADRON

"Go around to the front and come in," a voice said--a voice from the room where the boys were. "I've just got here, and am trying to find a light."

There was a rattle of arms outside, then the heavy tread of men still making some pretense, even in the darkness and the rain, of moving in marching order. The men who had come to the a.s.sistance of the Boy Scouts were preparing to enter the house.

How would they be received? This was the question uppermost in the minds of all the boys as they waited.

Would they be greeted with treacherous words, or with a murderous fusillade of bullets and knives stabbing in the darkness? It would seem that the Chinamen would hardly dare attack an American military squad, yet these men were outlaws, and there was no knowing what they might do.

The lads heard the marines, as they supposed the newcomers to be, pa.s.s around an angle of the old house and stand for an instant talking in the doorway to which they had been directed by the voice of the man on the inside. Frank was preparing to set up a cry of warning, let the consequences be what they might, when the rattle of arms told him that the marines had surrounded the house, and that every door and window was guarded! The men who were guarding the boys evidently knew what was taking place, for they released their clutches on the lads and moved away.

Next came a struggle at the window, and then a strong electric light swept into the room. Jimmie jumped forward and b.u.mped into Ned, who was clambering over the decayed window sill.

There were several shots exchanged on the outside, followed by shouts of both rage and pain, then three men in the uniform of the United States marine service entered the room. One of them picked up Ned's searchlight, which had fallen to the floor when Jimmie bunted its owner, and turned its rays on the mix-up under the window.

There was a flutter of arms and legs, as Frank and Jack, half choking with laughter at the manner in which tragedy had so suddenly and unexpectedly been changed into comedy, pulled Ned and Jimmie apart.