The Boy Scouts for Uncle Sam

At the same time the thought was running through his mind that he had acted rashly in taking the step he had. But the boy pluckily made up his mind to stick to his resolution of discovering just what was going on inimical to the plans of the United States Government and Mr. Barr.

Before very long the prow of the boat grated on a sandy beach, and the two men, gathering up some rolls of paper and several bulky-looking objects, left the craft, first securing it by an anchor and line.

As their footsteps died away, Rob ventured to raise his head above the gunwale of the boat and follow them with his eyes. He saw them ascend the beach and enter the hut, apparently a structure once used by fishermen or hunters.

After an interval a light shone from the solitary window of the hut, and Rob came to a sudden resolve to find out just what was going forward. With this object in view he clambered out of the boat, taking every precaution against making unnecessary noise. On hands and knees he then approached the lighted window.

The night was dark, and, standing at a fair distance from the casement, he did not feel much fear of being seen from within. It is hard for persons in a brightly lighted chamber to perceive what is going on outside.

Seated around a rough table in the hut, which consisted of only one room, Rob saw three men. Two of them, undoubtedly, were those who had unconsciously rowed him to the island. The other he recognized with a start as the possessor of the face which had peered through the transom on the memorable night in Hampton, when plans for the experiments on the island were in process of being formulated. In other words, the third member of the party was none other than Nordstrom Berghoff, the spy.

Instantly many things that had been vague to Rob crystallized into a clear understanding of the situation. The signals from the island, the indignation of Barton over the presence of the Boy Scouts, and the stealing of the plans and models, all stood out plainly now as being part of an elaborate plot of which Berghoff was the mainspring.

A wave of indignation swept over the boy as he contemplated the rascals within the hut gloating over the things they had obtained from the treacherous Barton.

"The scoundrels," he thought; "so they think they can rob Uncle Sam of one of the greatest submarines ever invented, and do so with impunity! I don't care what happens, I'll fool them if I can."

With this resolve firmly embedded in his mind, Rob crept closer to the window. By skillful maneuvering he was at last almost under the casement. In this position every word uttered within the hut was clear to him.

He heard Berghoff chuckling gleefully over the manner in which the night's work had been carried out.

"Undt not a vun of dose Boy Scouts knew anting aboudt idt," he exclaimed.

"No," rejoined one of his companions, a swarthy man with a pallid face on which there stood out a bristly beard; "those kids were out of the game so far as we were concerned. That Barton is a slick one, all right."

"Well, he's getting well paid for the job," struck in the third man, who was short and stocky, with a crop of rough, reddish hair and a protruding chin that gave him a "bull doggy" aspect.

"Of course, he gedts vell paid," rejoined Berghoff; "dis job is vorth de naval supremacy of the worldt to der country vot I represent."

"As if we didn't know that as well as you," rejoined the red-haired man. "It was lucky we worked in the same machine shop in Bridgeport with Barton and knew he was a man who could be bought."

"Yes, there isn't much that he wouldn't do for money," chimed in the pallid-faced man.

"Vell, ledt us see if dese plans are all righdt, or if ve must get some more of dem," remarked Berghoff.

From his manner of examining the intricate prints and plans, Rob knew that the man, as were most probably his two companions, was an engineer of no mean ability. With a small pocket scale he went over every scrap of paper and then fell to examining the models. From his expression, Rob judged that Barton had served the rascal well. Berghoff declared the plans and the models all that would be required to produce a Peacemaker almost the exact duplicate of Mr. Barr's diving-boat.

"Well, when do we make our getaway?" queried the red-haired man when the examination was concluded.

"To-morrow ve go," declared Berghoff. "In New York I catch der steamer for Europe undt you two scatter verefer you like."

Rob felt his face flush with indignation, and at the same time he experienced a sort of hopeless feeling of indecision. The plans and the models lay there, almost within his reach, but so far as the possibility of recovering them was concerned, they might as well have been in China.

"If only all the boys were here," he thought, "it would be possible to 'rush' those scoundrels and secure all their loot."

Finally Rob came to the decision to remain where he was for the present and see if some opportunity would not present itself to recover the articles of such vital importance to Uncle Sam's Government.

The men talked on, conversing in low tones, and presently the red-headed man started to prepare some food on an oil stove, which must have been brought from the motor boat earlier in the day. Till sundry appetizing odors began to drift out to him from the plotter's cookery, Rob did not realize that he was hungry. Before long, however, his desire for food became almost overwhelming. It was tantalizing to lie out there in the dark, tired and hungry, and hear within the hut the clatter of knives and forks and inhale the odors of what was evidently a hearty meal.

At length the men stopped eating, and Rob heard them discussing whether they should sleep in the hut or on board their motor boat. The boy pricked up his ears as he listened. If only they decided to sleep on the boat and leave the models and plans in the hut, he would have a chance to recover the stolen property and make away with it in the beached rowboat before dawn.

Rob could hardly restrain an exclamation of delight when the men came to the decision to pass the night on their boat.

"What are you going to do with this stuff?" inquired the pallid-faced man with the stubbly beard, indicating the mass of papers and models.

"Oh, we'll leave that here till morning," was Berghoff's response; "dere is no use in taking idt by der boat now."

"Goodness," thought Rob, "I sure am in luck! It will be no trick at all to get that stuff as soon as they have gone, and carry it back to the island. I almost wish it was going to be a harder task. It's a bit too much like burglary to suit me."

But Rob was not to have such an easy time of it as he anticipated.

CHAPTER XIX.

A CHASE IN THE NIGHT

The men left the hut, banging the door behind them. Rob waited till the sound of their voices grew dim in the distance, and then raising himself cautiously he crept around to the door of the hut.

The light had been extinguished, but as the boy had matches in his waterproof case this fact did not worry him. Pushing the door open Rob entered the place. Before striking a light he did all he could to assure himself that he was not likely to be interrupted by the sudden return of the men.

Having established to his satisfaction that he was safe, which was not until he perceived a light on the motor boat, which lay not far from the hut, he proceeded to light up the lantern the men had left behind.

Anxious not to lose any time on his risky task, he began stuffing papers and plans into his pockets at once. The models, or most of them, he decided he would have to convey to the boat in his arms.

He had hardly completed the task of stowing the papers in his pockets, when he was startled at hearing footsteps coming toward the hut. Hastily he extinguished the light, uttering an inward prayer that it had not been seen. Luckily for himself he had taken the precaution of closing the door as soon as he had the lantern lighted.

Just before extinguishing the lamp, he had gazed about the place for some spot of concealment. But the hut, as has been said, was a crude affair, and no closets or cupboards presented a chance of hiding. The only thing that Rob could think of to do was to slip under the table and trust to a miracle that he would not be discovered. Hardly had he carried out his intention when the door opened and two men entered.

They were the red-headed man and the pallid-faced individual, who appeared to act as assistants to Berghoff. At any rate, judging by their accents, they were foreigners.

Rob had placed the lantern on the table in a position as much resembling that in which the men had left it as he could. He heard a match scratched and then the sputter of the flame.

"Don't see why Berghoff sent us back to get that stuff," grumbled one of the men angrily; "it's as safe here as it would be anywhere."

"Well, as we're getting good pay fer this job, we might as well obey orders," was the reply.

"Gee whillakers!" came a sudden exclamation from the man who had attempted to light the lantern.

"What's up?" asked the other.

"Why, the plagued thing is red hot!"

"Red hot?" exclaimed his companion in tones of amazement. "How can that be when it's a good half hour since we put it out?"

"Dunno, but it burned my fingers, all right."

"Say, Mike, do you think anyone has been here since we left?"

"Who could have been here? And yet, come to think of it, it's blamed queer. Tell you what we'll do."

"What?"

"Search this place. It won't take long."

"Good for you," rejoined the other, while Rob quaked in his place of concealment.

"There ain't many nooks or crannies, so the job won't take long."

"That's right. We'll begin by looking under the table – Jeehosophat!"

The sudden exclamation was caused by Rob's suddenly springing up, upsetting the table and planting his fist full in the fellow's face. The lantern was dropped in the excitement and the hut was plunged in darkness. Rob had come to his sudden decision to act as he did as the only way to escape the men.

For a time it looked as if he would be successful. Dashing past the man who remained on his feet he made for the direction in which he knew the door lay. In fact, as the men had not closed it, he had no difficulty in locating it by the starlight outside.

"Hey! Stop! Stop!" roared the fellow behind him.

Rob sped on like the wind, using every ounce of running ability he possessed. Straight for the beach he made, devoting all his energies to a swiftly formed plan to get into the beached boat and row to safety. It was a desperate plan, but he had no other resources.

He was within a few yards of the beach when a dark form loomed suddenly before him. In the starlight Rob saw something glittering in the newcomer's hand. This object was leveled at him, and a stern voice commanded him to stop or be shot.

Rob, with a throbbing heart, pulled up. He recognized the voice as that of Berghoff and knew that if he did not obey the order the desperate ruffian would have no hesitation in sending a bullet into him.

Berghoff, who had been aroused by the cries of his aides when Rob escaped from the hut, came up to the lad, keeping him covered with his wicked-looking "gun."

"Who are you? What you doing here?" he demanded sternly.

The next moment, and before Rob could reply, the fellow noted the Boy Scout uniform.

"Oh, ho!" he exclaimed in a malignant tone. "So you are one of dose Boy Scouts, eh? You think you pretty smart, eh? You vait. I may make you pay for your fun."

There was a cold sort of malice in the man's way of speaking that actually sent a chill down Rob's spine.

But he plucked up courage to make a bold reply.

"I know the sort of illegal trafficking you are engaged in, Berghoff," he said boldly, "and I tell you, you had better leave me alone."

"Is dot so?" sneered the fellow. "You haven't seen the last of me for a long time yet."

"My friends will punish you for this," exclaimed Rob, in as confident a tone as he could assume.

"It vill be a long time alretty before you see your friendts again," jeered the other. "Ah, here comes Mike and Gyp, now. Now ve findt out what you vos doing up by der hut."

As the spy had said, the two men who had been in the hut came up at the moment.

Berghoff instantly demanded to know what had occurred in the hut.

"By gosh, cap," said the red-headed man who, it seemed, was "Mike," "it happened so sudden I can hardly tell you. We goes up there to get them papers as you told us, and the first thing you know out jumps this young catamount and hits me a swat on the jaw that 'most put me out fer the count."

"That's right," corroborated his companion; "that's just what he done, cap."

"How did he get here?" demanded Berghoff angrily.

"Dunno, unless he flew," rejoined Mike helplessly. "Hadn't we better search the young varmint and see what he's got in his pockets?"

"Yes, you had better search him at once."

"My last chance has gone," thought Rob as the two fellows seized him roughly and began rummaging his pockets.

It would have been worse than useless to resist, so Rob submitted to the search, while Berghoff stood looking grimly on as the papers were extracted from his pockets by the two ruffians.

"If only I'd hurried a little more," thought Rob to himself bitterly. "If only I'd hurried, I'd not have been in this predicament now."

"So you almost got avay mit vot you came after," exclaimed Berghoff as the last of the papers was removed from Rob's pockets and handed over to the spy; "it voss an inspiration dot made me send my men back by der huts."

"What will we do with the kid?" asked the man known as Mike.

"I don't know yet," was the rejoinder in a harsh voice. "Ve ought to throw him in der sea. He knows too much aboudt us."

"That's right, cap," came from Gyp, the pallid-faced man, "it's just as Barton told us, these blamed Boy Scouts are on to us."

"Vell, it don't be goodt to get ridt of him righdt now. Better bring him aboard the boat."

"All right, cap. Come on, you young sneak!" said the man known as Mike.

He gave Rob's arm a vicious twist, and with one of the men on either side of him, and Berghoff walking close behind with the revolver, there was no recourse for Rob but to accept the situation as it came. But in mind he was casting about desperately for a means of escape. None had occurred to him by the time they reached the motor boat, which was moored at a tumble-down wharf, or jetty.

The motor boat proved to be a sixty-foot affair, with a cabin amidships. Into this Rob was gruffly ordered.

"Get aboard now, and look slippy about it," was Mike's way of urging the Boy Scout on board the craft.

Rob obeyed the order with a sinking heart Things looked about as black as they could be, so even his optimistic nature was compelled to admit.

CHAPTER XX.

ON BOARD A STRANGE CRAFT

Once inside the main cabin Rob was thrust into a small stateroom opening off the larger apartment. He heard the lock click as the door was slammed to, and knew that he was a prisoner.

It was dark inside the cabin, but by feeling about he discovered a bunk on one side of the place. Critical as his situation was, the boy was so tired that he flung himself down on this, and, before long, while still pondering his quandary, he sank into a deep slumber.

When he awakened it was broad daylight. By the motion of the craft Rob knew that she was at sea. Getting up from the bunk he peered out of the small porthole of the stateroom. Outside nothing but the ocean was to be seen. Of course the boy had not the slightest idea where they were, or how long the boat had been running.

All he did know was that he was a prisoner, ravenously hungry, achingly thirsty and almost fagged out. His slumbers had been uneasy and had not refreshed him.

Outside he could hear voices in the larger cabin. Crawling to the keyhole he listened intently. Berghoff was talking. Rob heard enough to convince him that the plans of the band had been changed.

"There vill be a big hue undt cry ven dey findt oudt der boy is gone," declared Berghoff. "We must findt some place where we can stop till der excitement dies out."

"That's right, cap," agreed one of his companions, "but where can we go?"

"There are plenty of small islands further down the coast. One of those would suit our purpose," struck in another voice, which Rob recognized as that of the pallid-faced Gyp.

"Dot's a good idea," agreed Berghoff; "gedt out der chart and look one up."

The voice sank into inaudibility and Rob threw himself back on the bunk. At least he knew now what to expect, isolation and captivity with three desperate men. It would be wrong to say the lad was frightened. Possibly the very nature of his predicament had dulled his brain, as is sometimes the case.

"I wonder if they are looking for me now?" he mused, and with the thought came a glad realization that Merritt knew of the signals from the island and would inform the ensign of them.

"If they only follow me up quickly, maybe they can overtake this craft," he said to himself, "although she's a fast one."

At this juncture of Rob's cogitations the door was thrust open and Gyp entered with some food and water.

He placed them on the floor and started to leave the room in sullen silence, when Rob stopped him.

"What are you going to do with me?" he demanded.

"Don't ask no questions and you'll get told no lies," growled the man, slamming the door and relocking it on the outside.

"Well," thought Rob, "it's plain that I'm to be kept in the dark as to my fate. Well, it's no use worrying. I'll tackle this food and take a good long drink of water and then see if I can come to any conclusion."

The meal brightened Rob up wonderfully. After eating it he sat on the edge of the bunk casting about for something to keep his mind off his troubles, when he suddenly recollected the mysterious cipher found on the Good Hope.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled it out and began figuring with the stump of a pencil on the back of an old envelope. But ingenious as he was, he found it hard to decipher. He tried half a dozen well-known systems on it and was about to give up in despair when he recalled the "Letter" method of reading cryptic numeral ciphers.

This system requires the operator to figure out the recurrence of different numerals and the order in which they appear. Rob noticed that the number 5 occurred most frequently. Now E is the most used letter in any bit of English writing, so the lad set down 5 as answering for E.

After this he figured industriously till he had managed to make something like sense out of the first paragraph of the old writing.

It would be wearisome to take the matter step by step in all its details. Suffice it to say, therefore, that Rob found that he had hit on a correct system and at the end of two hours had the following message before him.

"It is buried twenty-four paces from dead cypress and to the west. The island lies in long. 80 degrees 50 minutes and lat. 33 degrees 24 minutes. To whoever finds this and reads it, I will the ivory. Death is close to me now. Good bye to all."

When his task had been completed, Rob sat gazing at the paper before him. Unquestionably it gave the location of the dead whaler's cache. For an instant the boy thought, with a thrill, that he was within reach of a fortune. But the next moment he recalled where he was, which, in the interest of his task, he had forgotten. Then, too, he remembered that the dead man's two companions who marooned him on his own ship had probably carried out their intention of returning and carrying off the precious hoard.

"So that's all of that," mused the boy, "but just the same, if I ever get out of this scrape, I mean to hunt up that island and see if I can locate the fate of those mammoth tusks."

All day the boat moved swiftly along, and it was not till the following morning that anchor was dropped, as Rob knew by feeling the motion of the craft stopped, and by hearing the rattle of the anchor chain.

"I wonder what is going to happen to me now?" he mused.

He had not long to wait.

"Come out on deck and help us row the dinghy ashore," Gyp muttered as he unlocked the door.

Heartily glad to get out of his cramped quarters, Rob obeyed.

Coming on deck he found Berghoff and Mike already there. The former had a formidable-looking revolver strapped on him. The boat was lying off a small, sandy island, isolated from the others, in one of the groups that are common on that part of the coast.

It was wooded and appeared to be a fine spot for Berghoff's purpose of remaining in seclusion till Rob's friends gave him up for lost, and the mystery of his capture blew over.

The dinghy, which hung on the davits astern, was lowered, and Rob roughly told to "pile in and row us ashore." He obeyed the order, noticing that in the boat were tent and camping supplies. Evidently these had been placed in it before he was called on deck.

His heart sank as he observed these preparations for an extended stay on the lonely island. Once ashore, he was forced to help in putting up the tent, building a fire and doing other jobs to make the camp habitable. Then, without food, he was set to chopping wood. After a hasty meal, Berghoff disappeared, leaving Rob guarded by Gyp and Mike, who lay at full length smoking lazily while he worked.

When Berghoff returned he announced that there was no trace of humanity on the island. With this statement vanished Rob's last hope of help. He had nourished a secret aspiration that there might be some campers or fishermen living on the place.

When the sun set that night Rob's feelings were down to zero. The very fact that he was not closely watched seemed to prove to him the utter impossibility of his escaping. True, there was the boat, but that had been drawn up on the beach by his wily captors so that it would be impossible for him to move it without attracting their attention.

CHAPTER XXI.

OFF ON A SEA TRAIL

As minutes and then hours elapsed and Rob did not return, Merritt became first anxious, and then seriously alarmed. He knew Rob's daring nature, and had a keen fear that it might have led him into doing something reckless.

It was almost dawn when he at length determined to return to the encampment and seek out Ensign Hargreaves. By the time he had tramped back over the sandy dunes day was breaking, and in the camp of the Boy Scouts the notes of the morning bugle were ringing out cheerily. The first of the Scouts to note Merritt's return was Donald Grant.

He came running toward him, and then stopped short as he noted the other's drawn, tired face.

"Why, what in the world's the matter with you, Merry?" he gasped out. "You look as if you'd been drawn through a knothole. Where's Rob? Where have you been all night?"

"I'll explain that later," said Merritt wearily; "just now I've got to find Ensign Hargreaves. Rob's either been kidnapped or lost."

He hastened on, leaving the other lad rooted to the spot with amazement and alarm. He knew Merritt well enough already to realize that the other was not the sort of lad to overrate a situation. If Merritt was as scared and weary as he looked, something serious indeed must have taken place.

In the meantime Merritt hastened to Ensign Hargreaves' tent. Hastily arousing him, he hurriedly explained the whole matter. The officer was out of his cot in an instant.

"You had no business to go off alone like that without notifying me," he exclaimed rather sharply. "Don't you know that the first duty of a soldier, a sailor or a scout is to obey orders?"

Merritt crimsoned and hung his head. He knew that the officer was right.

"We thought we were doing a good thing," he said, "but I know now that we did wrong in not notifying you."

The ensign's hand fell on the lad's shoulder. Then kindly enough he said:

"Well, acknowledging that you did wrong is a manly thing, my boy, and we'll say no more about the matter. But about Rob, something must be done right away. Arouse Mr. Barr while I am dressing and we'll set about searching for him at once. There's little doubt in my mind but that he is on that island where you saw the signals flying."

"But how could he get there unless he had an airship?" inquired Merritt.