CHAPTER XIX
SAM REBELS
In the meantime on a small island in the Upper Inlet a strangeconference was taking place. Three youths whom our readers willrecognize as Jack Curtiss, Bill Bender and Sam Redding; were in earnestconsultation with the unkempt and unsavory individual whom we know asHank Handcraft, the beach-comber.
"Well, the job's put through, all right," Hank was saying, as the threesat outside a small tent in front of which was a smoldering fire, aboutwhich the remnants of a meal were scattered.
"Yes, but now we've got to tackle the hardest part of it," said Jack,knitting his brows. "I've got the letter written and here it is." Ashe spoke he drew from his pocket a sheet of paper. "The question is whoto send for the money when the time comes."
"Oh, Hank is the man," said Ben, without an instant's hesitation. "Wemust not appear in this at all."
"Oh, I am the man, am?" put in Hank, with no very gratified inflexionin his voice; "and what if I am caught? I'm to go to prison, Isuppose, while you fellows get off scot-free."
"As for me," said Sam Redding, who was pale and looked scared, andwhose eyes, too, were red-rimmed and heavy as if from lack of sleep,"you can count me out. I want nothing to do with it. You've gone toofar, Jack, in your schemes against the boys. I'm through with thewhole thing."
"Well, if you're that chicken-hearted, we don't want you in it at all,"sneered Jack, although he looked somewhat troubled at his follower'sdefection. "All we want you to promise is not to split on us."
"Oh, I won't peach," promised Sam readily.
"It will be better for you not to," warned Bill Bender; "and now let'sfigure this thing out, and quickly, too. We haven't got any too muchtime. They'll have discovered the kid has gone by this time and thealarm will be spread broadcast."
"I thought, when he yelled like that last night, we were goners sure,"remarked Jack, scowling at the recollection. "It's a good thing thosekids sleep as hard as they do, or we'd have been in a tight fix."
"Oh, well, no good going back to that now," dissented Bill. "How wasthe young cub when you left him, Hank?" he asked abruptly.
"Oh, he'd got through crying, and was lying nice and quiet on hisbunk," remarked Hank, with an amiable chuckle, as though he had justperformed some praiseworthy act, instead of having left little JoeDigby locked in a deserted bungalow on an island some little distancefrom the one on which the conversation related above was taking place.
"Well, that's good," said Bill; "although crying, or yelling, either,won't do him much good on that island. He could yell for a week and noone would hear him."
"No; the water's too shallow for any motor boats to get up there,"agreed Hank. "I had a hard job getting through the channel in therowboat, even at high water."
"Is the house good and tight?" was Jack's next question.
"Tight--tight as the Tombs," was Hank's answer, the simile being an aptone for him to use. "The door has that big bolt on the outside that Iput on, besides the lock, of which I carried away the key, and theshutters are all nailed up. No danger of his getting away till we wanthim to!"
"Couldn't be better," grinned Jack approvingly. "Now, here's theletter. Tell me what you think of it?"
Opening the sheet of paper, the bully read aloud as follows:
"MR. AND MRS. DIGBY:
"Your son is safe and in good hands. I alone know where the men whostole him have taken him. But I am a poor man, and think that theinformation should be worth something to you. Suppose you place twohundred dollars under the signpost at the Montauk crossroads to-night.I will call and get it if you will mark the spot at which you place itwith a rock. Look under the same rock in the morning and you will finddirections how to get your boy back.
CAPTAIN NEMO."
"What do you think of that?" inquired Jack complacently, as heconcluded the reading of his epistle.
"A bee-yoo-tiful piece of composition," said Hank approvingly, with oneof his throaty chuckles; "the only thing is--who is Captain Nemo?"
"Why, so far as delivering the letter and getting the money isconcerned, you are," said Jack decisively. "Eh, Bill?"
"Oh, by all means," assented Bill.
Sam was not included in the conversation, and gazed sullenly straightin front of him as he lay where he had thrown himself on the fine whitesand.
"Oh, by no means," echoed Hank derisively. "Say, what do you fellowstake me for, the late lamented Mr. Easy Mark? If you do you haveanother think coming."
"Now look here, Hank," argued Jack, "what's the objection? All you'vegot to do is to take this note ashore, give it to some boy to deliver,and then go to the crossroads at whatever time to-night you see fit andget the money."
"Of course," Bill hastened to put in, "you've got to bring it to us forproper division."
"Oh, I have, have I?" chuckled Hank. "Well, what do you think of that?I'm to do all the work and you fellows are to get the bacon! That's afine idea--not! Four into two hundred doesn't go very many times, youknow."
"Not four," corrected Jack, "three. Sam is out of this. He's too muchof a coward to have anything to do with it," he added, mimicking Sam'stone.
The boat-builder's son reddened, but said nothing in reply to thebully's taunt.
"Well, three, then," went on Hank; "that's not percentage enough forme. If I'm to have anything to do with this here job, I want half themoney. You fellows can split the rest between you!"
Jack and Bill exchanged blank looks.
"Now, look here, Hank, be reasonable," began Jack in a tone meant to beconciliatory.
"Now, look here, Jack, be sensible," echoed Hank mockingly. "You seemto forget that you owe me something for the job we did on thoseuniforms the other night, and that other little errand you performed onthe island. You've got a very convenient memory, you have. Why, Idaresay those kids would have given me a nice little wad of tobaccomoney to have told just who took their Sunday-go-to-meetin' suits, butdid I peach? No, you know I didn't; but," he added, with risingemphasis, "if I don't get what's coming to me pretty soon, I will."
"Well, you idiot," began Jack truculently; "haven't you got your chancenow?"
"If I choose to take it--yes," was the rejoinder; "but I don't know asI will. It seems to me I hold all the trumps and you are at my mercy."
"Why, you insolent dog!" bellowed Jack, rising to his feet from theposition in which he had been squatting. "For two cents I'd knock yourbewhiskered head off!"
He advanced threateningly, but Bill, seeing the turn matters weretaking, and realizing that more was to be gained by peaceful methods,intervened.
"Now, Jack, shut up. Stow that nonsense," he ordered sharply. "Lookhere, Hank, we'll accept your terms. Half to you if you carry it outsuccessfully."
"And if I don't?"
"Then we'll all have to shift for ourselves. This part of the countrywill be too hot to hold us. I mean to go out West. I've got a cousinwho has a ranch, and I think I could get along all right there if theworst comes to the worst."
"See here, I don't agree with your way of dividing the money," beganJack, an angry light in his eyes. "Look--"
"Look here, Jack," cut in Bill sharply, "if you don't like it, itdoesn't do you any good. If you object to it, keep out. Hank and Iform a majority. You chump" he added, quickly, under his breath, asHank turned away and began to "skip" flat stones over the water, "don'tyou see he takes all the responsibility? It's a cinch for us to getaway if anything goes wrong."
"Yes, it's a cinch we get cheated out of our share of the money,"argued Jack, with an angry glare in the direction of the unconsciousHank.
"Beggars can't be choosers," argued Bill. "You know, as well as I do,that if we are implicated in this affair it means serious trouble. Ourparents wouldn't stand for it, and we should be disgraced. By doing itthis way we get some of the proceeds--I admit not our fair share butwhat's to be done?"
"Well, I guess you are right, Bill," assented Jack, with a shrug. "It'sgo ahead n
ow; we've gone too far to draw back."
"That's the line of talk," grinned Bill, "and when we've each got fiftydollars in our pockets, silenced Hank with a golden gag and had ourrevenge on those kids, we'll be able to talk over future plans. I'msick of school. I hate the idea of going back there. I've half a mindto strike out for the West anyway."
"Do you think I could get a job on your cousin's ranch?" asked Jack.
"I don't doubt it a bit," rejoined Bill. "You're a good, husky chap,and brawn and muscle is what they need in the West."
"Yes, I'm husky, all right," conceded Jack modestly. "Sometimes Ithink that I don't get full opportunities to expand here in thiswretched country hole."
"No, the West is the place," agreed Bill, with an inward smile, "as thenewspapers say--one can expand with the country out there."
Their conversation was broken in upon by Sam, who demanded in no verygentle tones:
"Well, who's going ashore? I'm off."
"No hurry, Sam," said Jack in a more amiable tone than he had yet usedthat morning. "Let's sit around here a while and enjoy the sun--wemight take a swim after a while."
"If you don't come now you'll have to swim ashore," grunted Sam,arising and brushing the sand from himself. "I'm going back toHampton. I'm tired of camping out here."
He walked toward the beach and prepared to shove off the dinghy,preparatory to sculling out to the hydroplane, which lay a few rods offshore in the channel.
"Hold on, Sam," cried Bill; "we're coming. Don't go away sore."
"I'm not sore," rejoined Sam, in a tone which belied his words, "but Idon't think you fellows are doing the right thing when you maroon a kidlike Joe Digby on a lone island, in a deserted bungalow in which you'dbe scared to stop yourselves."
"Why, what's got into you, Sam?" protested Jack. "It's more a larkthan anything else."
"Fine lark," grunted Sam, "scaring a kid half to death and then writingnotes for money. It's dangerously near to kidnapping--that's what Icall it, and I'm glad I'm not in it."
Both the others looked rather uncomfortable at this presentation of thematter, but Jack affected to laugh it off.
"Pshaw!" he exclaimed, "it's a little bit rough, I know, but suchthings do a kid good. Teach him to be self-reliant and--and all that."
"Sure," agreed Bill, "you don't look at these things in the rightlight, Sam--does he, Hank?"
Hank, who had shuffled toward the dinghy at the conclusion of theseedifying remarks, agreed with a chuckle that Sam had no sense of humor,after which they all got into the dinghy and we sculled off to theunlucky hydroplane.
It didn't take long to get under way, and the little craft was soonscudding through the water at a good pace, towing the dinghy behind her.
"Better put us ashore before we get into Hampton," suggested Bill. "Wedon't want to be seen about there more than can be helped."
"That's where you are wrong," objected Jack. "We'll put Hank ashore upthe coast, but the more we are seen about the place the better. Itwon't look as if we had anything to do with the Digby kid--in casethings do go wrong."
So it was agreed that Hank was to be landed in a small cove a few milesfarther down the coast, from which it was a short cut across country tothe neighborhood of the Digby farm.
Then he was to waylay the first likely-looking messenger and entrustthe note which Jack had read to him for delivery. After that he was tospend the time as best he could in suitable seclusion, and after darkconceal himself near the sign-post. He was not to make any attempt tosecure the money if any one hovered about the place, but if the coastwas clear he was to go boldly in and take it.
Hank was landed at the spot agreed upon, a short time later, and theother three then resumed their journey for the hydroplane's home port.As they turned seaward Jack pointed mockingly to Topsail Island, whichlay a short distance on their port bow.
"I'll bet there's plenty going on there right now," he grinned.
"Right you are," assented Bill.
"Hullo," he added hastily the next moment; "what's that?"
He pointed toward the island, and the occupants of the hominghydroplane saw, slowly rising from it in the still air, four straightcolumns of blue smoke.
"Looks like a signal of some kind," suggested Jack after a scrutiny.
"It's coming from about the place where we grabbed the kid," addedBill, a note of apprehension in his voice.
"I wonder what it signifies?" demanded Jack, whose face began to bear asomewhat troubled look.
"I can tell you," said Sam shortly, turning round from the wheel.
"You can?"
"Yes."
"Well, hurry up, then--what does it mean?" Jack spoke sharply at Sam'sdeliberation.
"It means," said Sam slowly, as if he wanted every word to sink in,"that the Boy Scouts have picked up your trail."
Boy Scouts of the Eagle Patrol Page 19