The Outdoor Chums on the Lake Part 28

"Never touched me!" he shouted in his excitement.

By this time the rank smoke had begun to ooze up through the floor of the old cabin. Doubtless there were plenty of gaping cracks between the puncheon boards to allow of a draught. Just how long the inmates could stand this sickening cloud was a question.

"Say! ain't this the real thing? Perhaps the sheriff would like to take a few lessons from our chum Bluff on how to smoke hams. Listen, will you! The poor guys are sneezing to beat the band. Keep up the good work, pard, and you'll force their hand. Get ready to cover 'em, Frank. I reckon something's bound to happen soon."

"Hey, you Waddy! Show up with the white flag, and we quit!" called Bluff from behind his refuge.

He was rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke, for while he had claimed to have escaped entirely, some of the splashing water had dropped on his skin and left an impression in the shape of a red mark.

"A white flag--that's the game! Might as well do it right while we're at it, boys. Come out, Waddy! We want you, and we mean to get you! Three more charges in this elegant pump-gun, and all for you. Do you surrender?" shouted Jerry.

It was happiness to Bluff to hear this scoffing sportsman chum of his thus praise the hitherto detested repeating gun, and he danced around almost recklessly, such was his delight.

But no more charges of scalding water belched out of that small window.

Perhaps the two unfortunates within had all they could attend to trying to breathe in that sickening, smoke-laden atmosphere.

"Keep up the good work, Bluff. It's immense," encouraged Frank, who really believed that, after all, the other had hit upon a clever way to force a surrender on the part of the defiant hoboes.

Suddenly the energetic fireman gave a loud cheer.

"They shove out the white flag! They surrender! What d'ye think of my plan, now, fellows? There's Waddy waving it out of the window! Don't shoot the poor duck--he's pretty near all in, and blind with the smoke!"

he whooped.

It was so.

Perhaps the article that the boy tramp was waving wildly out of the small opening may have hardly deserved the name of white flag, but his intentions could not be doubted.

Smoke had won against stubborn grit, and the hoboes were ready to throw up their hands!

CHAPTER XXIV--A NEW ALARM

"Do you give up, Waddy?" demanded Frank, menacingly holding his gun leveled.

"Oh, we'll hands up, all right. Both of us are on the blink with the smoke, and nigh blind. Call it off, fellers," whined the owner of the dirty face in the opening, while he coughed several times to emphasize his words.

"All right, then. Now, tell Biffins that we want him out first, and if he tries to run, it's a charge of bird shot for him in the rear. Get that?"

"Sure. No danger of us doin' anythin'. We're so near blind we couldn't run if we wanted to."

The head vanished. Ten seconds later the door was thrown open and a big man staggered into sight, reeling as if he were intoxicated. The two fugitives had stubbornly stuck to the cabin through all, until nearly dead for fresh air.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AS HE CAME, THE MAN HELD BOTH ARMS ALOFT.]

As he came, the man held both arms aloft. Apparently he knew what was wanted, and did not mean to encourage these young hunters to try a shot at his person.

"Lie down on the ground, on your face!" shouted Frank. "Now keep your hands stretched out that way. Don't dare move, or it will be bad for you, Biffins. Now, Waddy, your turn!" called Frank again.

A second figure came into view, groping, as if utterly blind. He, too, was compelled to drop on the cool earth, where he could gulp in great breaths of the fresh air, of which they were in such dire need.

From three directions the boys approached.

"Hurrah! We bagged 'em!" shouted Bluff.

Frank said nothing. It was not in his nature to exult over a fallen foe, though he did not blame the more impulsive Bluff for his evident delight.

From one of his pockets he produced some stout cord. He certainly had never dreamed what a singular use he would find for this when placing it there.

"Watch them both, Jerry. Now, Biffins, put your hands behind you, crossed. I'm going to tie them so. It's no use thinking of doing anything. You couldn't escape, even if you got away from us, for the sheriff has this island surrounded, and he is on the way here, right now, with his posse. Perhaps you might be shot down in the woods. There, you won't break that, I reckon, in a hurry."

He turned his attention to the second rascal. Waddy Walsh had reached a point in his reckless career where he did not care much what happened to him. Having in a measure recovered from the suffocating fumes of the smoking weeds, he even twisted his head half way around to jeer at Jerry.

"Helpin' to arrest your old pard, hey, Jerry? That's kind of you, now.

I'll be likely to remember it, old feller, when I get out again," he said.

"I reckon you won't have a chance to get out in a hurry, Waddy. I'm ashamed to admit that I did once go out with you, till you took to stealing, and I had to cut you off my visiting list. Hear that shooting, boys? The sheriff's posse must be in the woods nearby, right now, and coming this way. I reckon Tom found 'em, all right."

"Well, let 'em come. We're ready to hand the prisoners over to the lawful officers. Say, but this has been a fierce time all around. We never thought, when we started out to camp on Wildcat Island, that we'd pa.s.s through such a string of adventures. Where are you going, Frank?"

said Bluff, as the other started to enter the cabin, the smoke having settled somewhat, after the smoldering weeds were dragged away from under the wall.

"Just to look around a little, that's all. Please stay with Jerry," came the answer, as Frank vanished within.

Presently he came out again. He had a bundle under his arm, wrapped in a newspaper, and of which he seemed especially careful. Jerry looked at him, and received a nod in return, which he seemed to understand full well, for he asked no questions.

"Here's the packet Mr. Pemberton lost, and I suppose the valuables are all safe inside, eh, Waddy?" he said, holding up something small he carried.

"Never touched a thing in it. Them other pieces of silver we swiped out of the farmhouse, and anything else you find come from that storage house over in Newtonport. We was after something big there, but missed it," admitted the boy from the reform school, with unblushing effrontery.

Loud calls were now heard close by. Bluff lifted his tuneful voice and shouted:

"This way, Mr. Dodd. Everything lovely, and the goose hangs high. We've got 'em safe and sound. Here's your men, sir. Step right up and put the irons on 'em!"

Biffins had not said a word up to now. The smoke had taken all desire to talk away from him; but he proved that he could swear like a pirate. No doubt what galled him most of all was the fact that his capture had been brought about through the instrumentality of a parcel of boys.

The crashing of the undergrowth became plainer. Then a party of men could be seen hurrying forward as fast as the tangled thickets would allow.

Mr. Dodd, the sheriff, was at their head. As he saw the two tramp thieves lying on the ground, helpless, he gave a roar. Rushing up to the boys, he shook the hand of each one in turn.

"Bully work, boys! I'm proud to know you, proud to say you live in the same town as I do! h.e.l.lo, Biffins! So it's you, eh? Well, this time we've got you dead to rights, and you don't get off. And here's Waddy Walsh, broke loose from the school he was sent to to learn to become a decent man. Back you go, my fine lad, this time to stay."

So he rattled on, as he proceeded to clap a pair of neat steel bracelets on the wrists of each of the prisoners.

After that he went into the cabin and thoroughly searched it.

"I reckon we've got all the plunder they had, and now it might be a good thing if we burned this old rat trap of a nest to the ground. It's got a bad name, and if tramp thieves have taken to lodging here, the sooner it goes, the better."