CHAPTER V
A COLLECTION OF WILD ANIMALS
"Well, what do you think of it?"
The voice was that of an Englishman, and the words were spoken in theroom, but the struggling prisoners could not discover where the personwho uttered them stood. It seemed to them that there were only the sixsleepy-looking Chinamen and themselves in the apartment.
Frank ceased his useless struggling with the rope which held both feetand hands in its strong coils, and glanced along the row of stupidfaces.
"What did you say?" he asked, hoping that the speaker would saysomething more and so locate himself.
"How do you like it?"
That was the same voice, and it was in that room, but, still, there wereonly the six Chinamen and Jack in sight. Frank looked at his chum witha smile on his face. In that moment he resolved to meet whatever Fatemight have in store for him with a cheerful heart. He had little doubtthat both Ned and Jimmie had been caught in the trap into which Jack andhimself had fallen.
There was no knowing what the fate of himself and his friends would be,but whatever had been planned for them by their enemies, there would beno relief in sighs and pleas for pity. They were alone in the land ofmystery. Owing to the necessity for secrecy regarding their movements,no one with whom they had been associated in the Secret Service workknew of their whereabouts, save only Lieutenant Scott, who had sent themon to Taku, and who had failed to keep his promises to them.
And Lieutenant Scott? Frank believed him dead or in the clutches of theconspirators.
Otherwise, he would have kept his appointment at the old house on thewater front. The view ahead was not a long one, as the boy consideredthe matter, nor a smooth one, but he decided that nothing was to begained by subserviency.
"I like it!" was Jack's quick reply. "Who is it that is doing thetalking?"
"One of the six in front of you," came the answer in English.
Jack cast his eyes quickly along the row of faces, but failed to catchthe movement of a lip, the twinkle of an eye.
"You're a funny bloke," Jack went on. "How much will you take for amonth in vaudeville?"
"He'd make a fine spirit medium," Frank cut in. "Can you make the talkcome from behind me?" he added, with a grin.
"Of course I can!"
Although the boys watched closely, there were no signs of motion in anyone of the six yellow, foxy faces, still the words seemed to come fromthe wall directly back of Jack's head.
"If I had you on the Bowery," Jack continued, "I'd give you a hundred amonth. Come on over and get busy in the little old United States!"
"I think I'll wait until the boys bring in the other two wild animals,"replied the unknown speaker. "I rather want to see the finish of youWolves and Black Bears before I see the Bowery again."
"You'll find more wild animals of our stripe on the Bowery than you willwant to meet," Jack replied, "especially when it is known that you'vebeen mixed up with Boy Scouts, to their harm, in China."
"I'll take my chances on that," was the reply. "You have been verysuccessful, you wild beasts, in butting into the business of otherpeople, and getting out again uninjured, but it is going to be differentnow. There are two black Bears and two Wolves that I know of who willnever get back to New York again."
"All right," Frank said. "We've had fun enough out of the SecretService work we have done to pay for whatever trouble we have now. Nedwill be along presently, and then you'll have another think coming."
"Sure, he'll be along directly," was the reply. "In fact, he's righthere now!"
But it was not Ned who was pushed, bound hand and foot, into the circleof light in the room. The little fellow came near falling as he wasthrust forward, but he regained his equilibrium, and turned around toface his tormentor.
"You're a cheap skate!" he said. "If I had you on Chatham Square I'dchange your face good and plenty!"
Then he saw that he was speaking to empty air. There was no one in thedoorway. The person who had brought him there and hustled him into theroom had disappeared.
"Now, what do you know about that?"
Jimmie chuckled as he asked the question of the six silent figuresranged along the wall. As yet his eyes had not fallen on the figures ofFrank and Jack, farther back in the shadows.
There was, of course, no answer to his question, and the boy leanedforward, a grin on his freckled face.
"Say, but you're a bum lot!" he cried. "Why don't you go back to thePyramids and sleep for another thousand years? There ain't nonourishment in sitting up there like a dime museum, for there's no onesellin' tickets at the door."
"Look behind you!"
That was the English voice again, seemingly out of the heavy air, or outof the storm outside. Jimmie turned quickly and saw his chums nicelytied up.
In a moment he turned back to the row of six, without even exchanging alook with his friends.
"Who's doin' the talkin'," he asked.
Frank and Jack were now too impatient to know what had become of theirleader to delay longer. The latter asked:
"Where's Ned?"
"Ask this lineup," Jimmie replied. "I don't know. Gee! If I had aface 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!" headded, "where is Ned?"
"Packed up, ready for delivery," was the reply. "Say, how would youwild animals like to take a jaunt on your motorcycles to-night? Nicecool night for a ride! You might reach Poking by morning and report tothe American ambassador!"
"We'll get there in due time," Frank answered.
"I've drawn the teeth of this collection of wild animals, at allevents," said the voice. "No more Wolves and Black Bears will be apt tocome to China. Such collections are not popular here."
Jimmie dropped back to where his chums were seated. Serious as thesituation was, the boy could not restrain a smile as he threw himselfdown beside Frank. The storm was still thundering outside, and splashesof rain now and then whirled in at the open casement.
The lantern which illuminated the interior of the room showed only around blotch against the darkness. In this circle sat the six silentmen, 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 comefrom nowhere was heard again:
"You'll meet him in due time," it said.
A long silence followed. The lantern which gave out the light flickeredin the wind and the beat of the rain increased in violence. In all theadventurous lives of the Boy Scouts nothing so weird, so uncanny, asthis had ever occurred.
"Well," Jack said, more to break the strange silence than for any otherpurpose, "why don't you say something?"
Then, through the clamor of the storm, came the sharp ring of steel. Itsounded to the listening boys like the purring of two swords directedagainst each other by strong hands.
Instantly the light was extinguished, and the shuffling of feet told thecaptives that the watchful six were getting into upright positions.
"Hello, the house!"
The challenging call came from the street outside.
"That's good, honest United States!" Jimmie whispered. "Shall I risk ananswer?"
"You'll probably get a knife in your side if you do," Frank answered."The Chinks are still in the room."
"Show a light!"
The voice was nearer than before, and the three boys lifted to theirfeet and moved toward the window, which was just above where they hadbeen sitting. Frank was about to throw himself out into the storm whena 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 ofone Black Bear. Remain
silent while I talk with your friends."
"Our friends?" repeated Frank.
"Certainly," was the reply--given with a chuckle. "Your very goodfriends from the American ship in the harbor."
There was torture in the words, in the fierce grip on the arm. Thepromised assistance had arrived and the boys were powerless to maketheir perilous situation known!
But a hopeful thought came to the brain of the boy as he was draggedaway 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 beforethe 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.
Boy Scouts on Motorcycles; Or, With the Flying Squadron Page 5