The Radio Boys Trailing a Voice Part 23

"No, I didn't know that, but it doesn't surprise me in the least to hear it," said Brandon, with a smile. "How did he gain his laurels?"

Then Bob told him about the contest, and when he had finished Mr.

Brandon laughingly congratulated Jimmy.

"I always had a sneaking idea that you could do it," he admitted. "But after my experience with lumbermen's appet.i.tes, I realize that you must have been on your mettle all the way."

"It was rather hard at the end," admitted Jimmy, "but take it all together it was a real pleasure. That cook sure does know how to make good pies," and an expression of blissful reminiscence spread over his round countenance.

"He made a regular pig of himself, but we knew he would, and that's why we had such confidence in him," said Joe.

"Nothing of the kind!" protested Jimmy. "You know you fellows got me into it in the first place. You fixed it all up, and I only went in as a favor to you. But I might know better than to expect grat.i.tude from this bunch."

"You'll find it in the dictionary," Joe informed him. "You ought to be grateful to us for providing you with a feed like that. It would have cost you a lot of money to buy all those pies back home."

"I think he came well out of it, at any rate," interposed the radio man.

"But we must now be getting somewhere near that cabin, and we'd better go as quietly as we can. We know that there are two of the gang hanging out in it, and there's no telling how many more there may be."

"Not so very near the cabin yet," answered Bob. "Nearer that tree to which they had the receiving set attached."

Nevertheless, they advanced as silently as possible, keeping a sharp lookout for any sign of the black-moustached stranger and his friend.

The woods seemed devoid of human presence other than their own, however, and they saw nothing to arouse suspicion until at length they reached the tree to which the receiving set was fastened. Frank Brandon examined this with interest. The box was securely locked, but the radio man drew a big bunch of various-sized keys from his pocket.

"I want to see what's in this box, but first I think we'd better post sentries," he said, in a low voice. "Suppose you go back a few hundred feet the way we came, Jimmy. You go the same distance in the other direction, Herb. And Joe can go a little way up the path that leads toward the cabin. You can stay here and help me get this box open, Bob.

If any of you hear some one coming, imitate a robin's note three times, and then keep out of sight. We don't want the crooks to suspect yet that anybody is on their trail."

The three radio boys scattered to their appointed posts, and Frank Brandon proceeded to try key after key in the lock. He had to try fully a dozen before at last the lock clicked and the door of the box swung open.

Inside was a complete radio receiving set, with vacuum tube detector and batteries in perfect working order. Between the roots of the tree an iron pipe had been driven into the earth to act as a ground. The antenna was strung from top to bottom of the tree on the side away from the path, and there was nothing to differentiate the box from an ordinary wire telephone set, except that it was slightly larger. There were a number of regular wire telephones scattered throughout the woods, to aid in fighting forest fires, so that anybody traveling along the path would have been unlikely to give this outfit more than a pa.s.sing glance, if they noticed it at all. Had the radio boys not chanced to see the black-moustached man listening, with wireless headphones over his ears, the fact that the box contained a wireless receiving outfit might never have been discovered.

Brandon and Bob went carefully over every article of the equipment. They were on the lookout for another notebook such as the boys had found in the cabin, but there was nothing of the kind in the box. When they were satisfied of this, Mr. Brandon carefully replaced everything as he had found it, and snapped the lock shut.

"So much for that!" he exclaimed. "Now, let's get hold of the others and we'll see what that mysterious cabin looks like."

Joe and Herb and Jimmy were soon recalled from their sentry duty, and all set out along the path to the cabin. When they got close to the clearing the three sentries were again posted, while Bob and the inspector made a detour through the woods so as to approach the cabin on the side away from the path, where there was little likelihood of those inside keeping a lookout. Very cautiously they advanced from the concealment of the woods, Frank Brandon with his right hand on the b.u.t.t of a deadly looking automatic pistol. They crept close to the wall of the cabin, and listened intently for some sign of life within.

That there was at least one man in the cabin, and that he was still sleeping, soon became evident, for they heard the heavy breathing of one sound asleep. Mr. Brandon cautiously raised himself as high as the window, and peered within. From this position he could not see the sleeper, however, and he and Bob moved silently to the other side of the shack. From there they commanded a good view of the interior, and could plainly see the sleeping man, who was the same whom the boys had first encountered the day before.

His black-moustached face was toward them, and Brandon gave a start of recognition, while his fingers tightened on his pistol. For a few moments he stood tense, evidently deciding what to do. Then he beckoned to Bob to follow, and made for the path where the others anxiously awaited them.

"I know that man in there!" exclaimed Brandon excitedly. "He is known as 'Black' Donegan, on account of his black hair and moustache. He's wanted by the police of New York and Chicago, and I guess other cities, too. We could easily get him now, but if we did, the chances are the rest of the gang would take alarm, and we'd miss the chance of bagging them and getting back Mr. Fennington's stolen property. It's hard to say what is the best thing to do."

But on the instant a plan occurred to Bob, and he lost no time in communicating it to the others.

CHAPTER XXII

A NEFARIOUS PLOT

"If this fellow in the cabin is such a bad man, we can't afford to risk losing sight of him," said Bob. "Suppose Joe and Jimmy and I stay here, while Herb goes back with you, Mr. Brandon. We can stay here until your two regulars show up, and Herb can then bring them here to relieve us.

How does that strike you?"

"It's a way out of the predicament," answered Frank Brandon, his frown vanishing. "You fellows are apt to have a long vigil, though. My men won't get to the camp until this afternoon, and after that it takes quite a while to reach this place."

"I guess we can stand it," said Bob. "Can't we, fellows?" he asked, glancing at the others.

Both Joe and Jimmy agreed, although the latter had secret misgivings as he thought regretfully of the dinner he would miss. However, such considerations were of little weight just then, and it was finally decided to adopt Bob's plan.

"I'll leave my pistol with you," said Brandon, as he and Herb prepared to leave. "But whatever else you do, steer clear of this gang and don't use firearms unless as a last resort. Remember, that if they once find out their hiding place is discovered, our whole scheme will be ruined."

The boys promised to exercise the greatest caution, and then Mr. Brandon and Herb started back toward camp.

Bob, after a brief inspection, dropped the deadly automatic pistol into his pocket, and then the three friends considered how they might best keep watch on the cabin without being discovered. First of all, at Joe's suggestion, they armed themselves with serviceable clubs, that might come in handy in time of necessity. Then they slipped silently into the underbrush, and worked their way along until they had attained a position where they commanded a view of the cabin's only door.

The spot they had chosen was surrounded by dense thickets, and one might have pa.s.sed within ten feet without spying them. Bob carefully parted the bushes and broke off twigs here and there until they could see plainly enough, and yet were securely hidden from the cabin. This done, the boys made themselves as comfortable as possible under the circ.u.mstances, and prepared for a long vigil.

They had been in their retreat less than half an hour when the door of the shack was flung open, and the black-moustached man appeared on the threshold. He gazed searchingly about the little clearing, then glanced up at the mounting sun and stretched prodigiously. At length, apparently satisfied that all was as it should be, he turned back into the cabin, and soon the aroma of bacon and coffee came floating down the wind to where the boys lay. Jimmy's nose twitched and his mouth watered, but he thought of the importance of the mission that had been intrusted to them by the radio inspector and stifled his longings.

The man in the cabin ate a leisurely breakfast, and apparently was in no hurry. Indeed, from the way he loitered over the meal, the boys rather suspected that he was awaiting the arrival of some other members of the gang. Nor were they mistaken. After a time the lads could hear the sound of approaching voices, and soon three men entered the clearing and made for the cabin. At the first sound of their voices, the man inside had stepped swiftly to the door, one hand in the bulging pocket of his coat; but when he recognized the others an ugly grin spread over his face, while his hand dropped to his side.

"So you have got here at last, eh?" he snarled. "I'm glad to find you didn't hurry yourselves any. I thought I sent you a wireless message to get here early."

"So you did, chief," spoke up one of the newcomers. "But we couldn't get here no sooner."

"You couldn't?" snapped the other. "Why couldn't you?"

"We got word that one of the government radio inspectors was at the lumber camp, so we had to come here by the long way. We were afraid he might recognize one of us if we happened to b.u.mp into him."

"Well, the cops have photoed all of you so often that I don't wonder you're shy," sneered the leader. "But come on inside. There's no use of standing chinning here."

Two of the men muttered sullenly to themselves, but ceased abruptly as the leader's frowning gaze fell on them. They all shuffled into the cabin, and the black-moustached man shut the door with a bang.

"Say," whispered Bob, "we've got to listen in on this pow-wow, fellows.

I'm going to sneak up to the window and try to hear what they're saying.

They must have some purpose in meeting here like this."

"Well, be mighty careful, Bob," said Joe anxiously. "They're a tough crowd, and we've got to watch our step. If they discover you, head for here, and if we can't get away we'll put up a battle."

"If I have any kind of luck, they won't discover me," Bob a.s.sured him.

"Just sit tight, and I'll be back in a jiffy."

Very cautiously he crept through the underbrush toward the cabin. In spite of all his care a branch snapped under him and the second time the door was flung wide and the ill-favored leader of the gang stepped out and peered about him.

Bob flattened out as close to the ground as he could get and lay tense, while the outlaw gazed suspiciously at the bushes amid which he was concealed.

"What's the matter, Blackie?" called one of the gang. "Did you think you heard somethin'?"