Dan Carter and the River Camp Part 35

"You're to throw him off his guard. Just keep him away from the dock while our work goes on."

"Work! You're stealing another shipment of furs!"

"Right, my boy. From under Hank's very nose too!" The blindman paused in the shadow of the warehouse. "See the stupid fool!"

The warehouseman nervously paced back and forth along the dock.

Frequently he paused to glance at a pile of boxes which had been covered by a heavy canvas.

"How do you aim to get the furs?" Dan whispered. "If you make any false move, Hank will blow his whistle and the river police will be here in a flash."

"Don't you worry yourself, my boy. Just do as you're told and don't ask questions."

The blindman gave Dan a shove, following a pace behind. At sound of his tapping cane, the warehouseman whirled around.

"Oh, it's you," he said in relief. "I'm a mite jumpy tonight. Guarding a valuable cargo. She's due to be picked up in another hour. It sure will be a load off my mind."

"Hank, I got a sliver in my hand a minute ago," the blindman said in a half-whine intended to arouse sympathy. "Will you help me get it out?"

"Can't see a thing out here."

"Come inside where there's a good light."

The warehouseman hesitated. "I shouldn't leave the dock-"

"Oh, it will only take a minute. You can watch the canvas from the doorway. Dan here can help you keep an eye on it."

"My eyesight isn't very good at night," Dan said significantly.

The blindman's arm pressed hard into his flesh.

"Lead me inside, Dan," the man ordered. "That's a good boy. You're a real help to a poor soul without any eyes."

The three entered the warehouse where they switched on a bright electric light. Carefully he examined the blindman's hand.

"It's only a little sliver," he said. "Hardly worth bothering about.

Here, I'll get it out in a jiffy."

With his knife he removed the tiny piece of wood.

Dan, who stood where he could see the canvas which covered the crate of furs, thought he could hear the indistinct sound of someone sawing wood.

But he could see no one.

Then the explanation dawned upon him! Hours before, a boat had slipped in beneath the dock, lying in wait for this moment. Now the river pirates boldly were carving through the dock with steel braces, bits and saws!

Undoubtedly the blindman himself had given the go-ahead signal by tapping with his cane.

"Those crooks will have the box through the hole and into their boat before Hank catches on!" he thought.

Dan sidled toward the door. Rudy growled and barred his way.

Outside the warehouse, Eddie lounged against a wall, smoking a cigarette.

All escape was cut off. Even if he could let Hank know what was happening, Dan knew it was too late to prevent the theft.

"Well, Dan, how did you do in the swimming meet tonight?" Hank asked, making conversation. "Give us a full account."

"We won," Dan answered shortly.

Again he felt Matt's hard pressure on his arm. Knowing that he was expected to keep the warehouseman interested, he grudgingly added a few details.

From where the boy stood, he could see the high mound of canvas. Suddenly it deflated like a p.r.i.c.ked balloon.

The river pirates had succeeded in lowering the loot through the dock hole into their boat! In another moment they would speed away unchecked.

The sight goaded Dan beyond thought of personal risk.

"Quick, Hank!" he shouted. "They're stealing the furs!"

The watchman whirled toward the door, only to have Joe Matt's cane crash down on his head. Hank staggered back, slowly collapsing on the floor.

When Dan would have leaped to the man's a.s.sistance, the dog barred his way.

Joe Matt seized the boy by the arm, pushing him roughly out the door. Dan resisted with all his strength. But he was powerless in the grasp of the other.

The motorboat, loaded with the boxes and crates of furs, had emerged from beneath the dock. As it coasted alongside, the blindman shoved Dan ahead of him and down into the craft.

Frisk f.a.gan crouched at the steering wheel. Jabowski, his face well hidden beneath a cap, huddled beside one of the boxes which had been shoved half way into the cabin. Jacques sat slumped over in the stern of the boat.

"Hey! What's the idea?" Frisk f.a.gan growled. "We can't take that kid along. We're overloaded now."

"We got to take him along," Joe Matt answered. "If we don't, he'll spill everything to the cops. Git going!"

Leaping down into the boat, the man bound Dan's legs and wrists with a stout piece of cord.

"Better gag him too," f.a.gan advised. "The river is swarming with cops.

Three boats out watching the sh.o.r.e. We can't risk having him yip at the wrong minute."

"I'll fix him right," Joe muttered. He pulled the thongs tighter about the boy's wrists and stuffed a handkerchief into his mouth.

The motorboat sped away from the dock, nosing directly toward Skeleton Island.

Scarcely was the craft well out from sh.o.r.e than those aboard heard the shrill blast of a police whistle. Dan's heart leaped with hope.

"We've been seen!" Joe Matt muttered. "Either that, or Hank has revived and given the alarm! Faster, Frisk!"

"I'm pushin' her as hard as I can."

"A police boat is putting out from sh.o.r.e now," Joe Matt informed, scanning the river. "Probably armed with a 45-calibre submachine gun!"