The Banner Boy Scouts in the Air

From the kitchen, a swinging door led into the next room—the room the boys could not enter from without. There they saw two open cots with blankets and pillows. A third cot, folded, stood near by. In the middle of the room were a large, round table and four chairs. On the table lay several used candles, a couple of small liquor glasses stood nearby and an empty whiskey bottle. There were some rags and pieces of clothing strewn about. The boys wheeled around on their heels slowly, examining the room closely. Paul spied an overcoat lying in a heap in a corner. He tiptoed slowly across the room and picked it up; very dusty, still it looked like a good coat. He put his hand into the pocket and his fingers touched a cold and hard object. It was an automatic. He whispered across the room to his friend. Paul snapped open the magazine and found it loaded. Pushing back the safety cap, he put the gun into his pocket. Again he picked up the coat and in the second pocket found a box of cartridges. Whispering across the room, the boys decided to appropriate the automatic and cartridges. Walking silently over to join his friend in front of the fireplace, Paul passed a hand over his brow and whispered anxiously, “We’re in the gang’s hangout all right. And I hate to think what would happen to us if we were caught.”

“It would be just too bad,” answered Wallace. “But it’s too late to withdraw now.”

“Yes. But I’m beginning to think that Nuthin’ was right. We should have called in the police.”

“Too late,” repeated Wallace. “We’ll have to make the best of it.”

Coming out into the hall, the boys mounted the stairs, Paul leading and Wallace following. At the head of the stairs they stopped to look around. There were two doors to their left. No attic. Paul tried the first door. It held fast. Pushing and tugging didn’t seem to help. Wallace whispered, “Let’s try the next door.”

The next door swung open at the mere touch of Paul’s hand. Entering, they found the room very dusty but entirely empty. There was a single closet; opening it, that too was found to be empty. They returned to the hall. Wallace whispered, “You think we ought to break in there?”—meaning the first door they tried but found locked or nailed.

Paul shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. What do you think? Is it worth the trouble?”

“You really can’t tell. From the looks of things, it seems as though they don’t use this floor.”

“Then why should the door be locked?”

“I can’t say. Let’s break in, so we won’t have any regrets.”

Wallace set to with his hatchet. Paul cautioned him to make less noise. But it was necessary to do a lot of chopping before the door would open. Wallace swung the door open and remained at the threshhold. Wallace gasped and Paul quickly reached into his pocket for the gun. They stepped into the room. Sprawled over on the floor was a man chained to a chair. Quickly glancing about to see if anyone else was in the room, they then hurried to pick up man and chair. Upright, the man’s head hung down and had every appearance of being dead. Paul put his ear to the man’s heart, listened closely for several seconds and then whispered, “Still alive.”

“Wonder who he is?” asked Wallace.

“Let’s first set him free.”

The man was chained hands and feet and then the chain ran several times around his body and the chair and both ends of the chain were held fast by a lock. Trying to break the lock was found to be futile. So Paul attacked one of the links with the hatchet. After removing the chains, they stretched the man out on the floor. Paul made a quick search through his coat pockets. From the right one the boy brought out a badge. Wallace craned his neck to see. It was a government agent badge.

“Do you think he is a real government agent?” whispered Wallace.

“Must be.”

“What’ll we do?”

“Take him out of here. Quickly. He needs air and medical treatment.”

Wallace grabbed the man’s legs and Paul took him under the arms. Thus they carried him downstairs. At the window, Paul said, “We’ll lay him down here for a while. You go and call a couple of the boys.”

He jumped through the window. Hesitating for a moment undecided which way to turn and whom to call, he put his fingers between his lips and sent out a low, shrill whistle. Dropping behind a clump of bushes, he lay there waiting, watching. In about a minute he noticed Ken and Jack appear from somewhere in the rear of the farm yard. They stayed close together and sneaked along from tree to tree. From the expression on their faces Wallace could tell that they were in a quandary as to where the whistle came from. He exposed himself and waved to them. They came on the run. “What’s the matter?” demanded Jack.

“Anything wrong?”—that from Ken.

Wallace waved away their questions and instructed them to wait under the window. He clambered in. The man now had his eyes open and made an effort to move his lips. Paul and Wallace picked him up and handed him out through the window. Jack and Ken gasped. Paul cautioned them. “Be careful. Hold on.”

Outside, Paul instructed Wallace to nail up the window again, while the three of them would take the man to the other side of the road, to where Bluff and their knapsacks were. That accomplished, Bluff was sent out to call in the other boys.

They stretched out a blanket on the grass and with another blanket for a pillow, they made the man comfortable. Paul moistened his lips with water and let him swallow a couple of mouthsful. After which the man fell into a doze.

Nuthin’ added, “He certainly needs medical attention.”

Jack shook his head. “I don’t think there is anything wrong with him organically,” he said. “He must have gone without food for a long time and that weakened him. Also the fact that he was tied to that chair.”

“Perhaps he wouldn’t want us to get a doctor because a doctor would have to notify the police. And he may not want that.”

Paul spoke up. He said, “One of us should run back to the nearest grocery to buy a bottle of fresh milk, several cans of fruit juice and some fresh fruit and vegetables.”

“I w-will g-go,” offered Bluff.

Paul cautioned him. “Make believe that you’re hiking by yourself and don’t answer any questions.”

Bluff nodded and was off. The boys sat down in a circle and Paul said, “Now we’ll hear what the result of your exploration has been, Jack and Ken. Which one of you is going to do the talking?”

“There’s really nothing to tell,” spoke up Jack. “We found nothing suspicious nor unusual.”

“Was the barn just plain empty?” questioned William.

“Yes,” replied Ken, “except for a few sticks and stones.”

“How about the yard?” asked Bobolink.

“We searched thoroughly but we didn’t come across a thing.”

Pause. Silence. Finally Jack said, “Suppose you now tell us all the other things you found in the house.”

Between them, Paul and Wallace related their entire experiences, not omitting any detail. He took out and showed the automatic and the box of cartridges. By the time the narrative was completed, Bluff had returned. Warming up a glass of milk, Paul fed it to the stricken man, a little at a time. Revived, he smiled and opened his lips to speak but Paul cautioned him not to exert any effort and just to rest. He lay down again and fell asleep. About two hours later he awoke and Paul fed him a cup of pineapple juice and a soft boiled egg. The man seemed to regain his strength rapidly. He was now fully able to speak but he uttered only a few words. “Thank you,” he said. “I will now rest a little longer.”

Toward afternoon, the agent recovered sufficiently to sit up and declaim his hunger. But on the recommendation of Paul, to which he agreed, he was given only warm milk and again a soft boiled egg on toast. As he ate, the boys gathered around and watched him. When he had finished his meal, he sat quietly for a short while, passing his hand over his several days growth of beard and laughing in his throat. Finally he spoke, his voice throaty and rusty. He asked, “Do you fellows mind telling me how you came to be in that house?”

The boys shut their mouths and kept quiet. The embarrassing silence lasted for about a minute. At last Paul replied, “Don’t you think, sir, that it is really your task to explain to us how you came to be in the condition in which we found you? We are Boy Scouts and by our treatment of you, it is evident that we are friends and mean you no harm.”

The man stroked his chin and hesitated. He let his sharp eyes roam from one silent boy to another, judging them, evaluating their characters. Wallace held out the badge they had found on him and asked, “Is this yours, sir?”

He glanced at it, nodded, took it and dropped it in his pocket. “Thank you,” he muttered. He still seemed to hesitate. Finally he spoke, low and throaty. “My name is Tom Woods and I want to thank you boys for saving my life. Another day and I would have passed out.”

“How long have you been a prisoner there?” questioned Jack.

“What day is this?”

“Monday.”

He thought for a moment. “Since Saturday morning,” he replied.

“Do you know if the gang is coming back for you?” Ken asked.

The agent shrugged his shoulders. “I really don’t know. But I imagine that they were going to let me rot there until doomsday.” He again let his eyes roam from one face to another. “I was in luck to have you boys find me. Once more, I thank you. You saved my life and I hope that someday I shall be able to repay the debt.”

Wallace leaned over and whispered something to Paul who nodded. For several seconds the boys waited for the man to speak, but he kept his mouth tightly shut. Wallace whispered, “Mr. Woods, did you know that they are scheduled to make a shipment one of these days?”

Though the question had been in a low whisper, the agent had caught every syllable; at the word “shipment” he winced, but so imperceptibly that only three of the boys had noticed it. He smiled wanly. He confessed. “I am a government agent. It appears that you boys have information—valuable information—which I desire.” He paused and stroked his chin. “It’s only fair then, I guess, that I tell you how I came to be chained to that chair in the farm house—a most inconvenient situation.” And he laughed in his throat. “I have been on this case for several months. I suppose you know that we are dealing with a gang of arms smugglers?” He put the statement in the form of a question and he noticed that several of the boys nodded, which was the clue he wanted.

“Well,” he continued, speaking low, almost in a whisper, “There really isn’t much to tell. I happened to come upon their hangout—an apartment in the city. Keeping a steady watch for several days, I learned their movements. One night, I watched them leave their apartment one by one and I decided to go up and investigate. I got in all right, but two of their comrades whom I had never seen leave or enter the building, were there to greet me. After that, things happened so fast I still find it difficult to recall all the details. At any rate, the next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor of a car traveling at a good rate of speed. I made believe that I was still unconscious and listened to their talk, but they said nothing to give away their secrets. Eventually they brought me to this farm house and chained me to the chair. The rest you know already.”

The boys stared at him in astonishment and silence prevailed for a short while. Finally he said, “Now it’s your turn to tell me all you know. I’m under the impression that you boys have a great deal of valuable information.”

The fellows looked at one another and kept quiet. They left it to Paul to do all the talking and tell as little or as much as he felt would be advisable. Paul, however, saw no reason for withholding any details of the information and he told all. As he progressed in his narrative, Tom Woods gasped with surprise several times. He listened attentively, wrinkling his brow and his jaw set as he did so. When the story was at last completely told, he confessed his amazement. For a short while he kept perfectly silent and concentrating on some plan he had in mind. He asked, “What time is it now?”

“Almost three o’clock,” answered William.

“How far away is this camping ground you were heading for?”

“Close to ten miles,” he was told.

The government agent shook his head. He suggested, “The first thing we ought to do right now is to find a camping spot. I don’t think I’m strong enough yet to walk ten miles. Tomorrow, maybe, but not today. However, would you boys object if we found some spot about a mile or two from here and pitched camp?”

“I don’t think so,” replied Paul and turned to the boys for affirmation.

“Then we’ll do that,” Woods said, “and then we will devise a complete plan of action. You boys know so much and are so familiar with the surroundings that I shall have to include you in all my plans to capture the gang.”

The boys immediately set off. Tom Woods accompanied by Wallace followed at a slower pace. They found a good spot and pitched camp. After supper, the boys gathered around the camp fire and together with the agent devised a plan of action for the next few days.

CHAPTER XVIII

The Trap

The following morning the boys rose early. They had had a refreshing and restful sleep and they were now ready and eager to carry out their plan. William supervised the preparation of breakfast and each one of them had a hearty and satisfactory meal. Tom Woods, too, had by now sufficiently recovered to have a full meal. He even declaimed that he now felt as well as ever. But the shadows under his eyes and the paleness of his skin told a silent story of horrible torture.

The agent rose to his feet and stretched himself. He called Paul over and asked, “Do you mind lending that automatic of yours? And also the cartridges. I may have to use them.”

Paul surrendered the pistol and ammunition. Several minutes later, Wallace called out, “I’m ready, Mr. Woods, if you are.”

“I’m also ready, so let’s go.”

Wallace shouldered his knapsack and waving goodbye to the other boys who were busy breaking camp, he and the agent set off. As for the rest of the group, just as soon as everything was ready, they set off for their destination—their old camp ground, which they reached at about noon. After a fifteen minute rest, lunch was prepared. Paul then declared a thirty minute rest period, adding, “We have a lot of hard work ahead of us which must be accomplished before nightfall. So relax, then we will get to work.”

Ken was left behind to keep guard at camp and put it into order. The other boys set off, with the cave their destination. When they got there, Bobolink and Nuthin’ were stationed at strategic points to keep a careful watch. Paul, Jack and William hid in the shrubbery. Paul picked up several light stones and threw them at the door of the cave. Some moments passed. The boys, anxious and determined, breathed hard. Jack crept forward on his hands and knees and moving so that the door would act as a shield, he slowly and quietly opened the door wide. There was no one in the front compartment of the cave and the door was closed. Jack crept back into hiding and now Paul and William rose to their feet and stole quietly away. The two boys crossed the stream and came upon the shrubbery-hidden opening that led to the back of the cave. Paul crept in; William kept guard. In a short while Paul came out. “How does it look inside?” William asked.

“The place is just full of wooden cases and boxes. They must have been here very recently and we missed them.”

“That’s nothing. Since they have their baggage here yet, they will come back. If not today, then tomorrow or the next day. In the meanwhile, I’m going back to give Jack the word. Is that all right?”

“Yes. If you two get through with your job first, come and give me a hand.”

“Very well.”

William disappeared and Paul set to work. Jack was waiting for William to return and just as soon as he did, the two boys got busy in front of and around the cave. They worked arduously and quickly. Finally the boys were done and without hesitating or wasting a minute, they set out to help Paul whom they met on the way. “You have everything finished?” the latter asked.

The boys nodded. “And you?” queried William.

“All done.”

“Good.”

The boys returned to their camp. It was already dark when William appeared. “Well, did anything happen?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “And here?”

“Nothing.”

Early the following morning, Jack left camp. He walked at a steady rapid pace and in about three hours he arrived at the farm house. Wallace had told him that Tom Woods would meet him there. He searched for some sign of the agent and finding none, he entered the yard and crept stealthily along, aiming for a position which would keep him in hiding while he had a good view of the road and most of the yard. He gained his goal and stretched himself out on the ground, prepared to wait until the agent showed up. Suddenly he felt the presence of someone close to him. He bounded up from the earth, but Tom Woods grabbed him and pulled him down again. The man laughed. “It’s all right, boy,” he whispered.

“Whew! You certainly scared me, Mr. Woods!” Jack exclaimed, heaving a sigh of relief.

“Just a little foolish playfulness on my part,” the agent stated. “What’s the news from camp?”

“Nothing happened. The boys did everything they were supposed to and everything is ready to greet the gang.”

“That’s good. I have a faint suspicion that we won’t have to wait for them long either.”

“You think they’ll come today?”

“Most likely. Though I wouldn’t swear to it. Nothing is certain, you know.”

They lay there side by side and conversed in very low whispers. Woods questioned the boy about his home, his activities, his friends and all sorts of little details about his life. In return he told many anecdotes of his experiences. He possessed a very fine sense of humor and he twisted every story he told into a humorous narrative. He had Jack giggling most of the time.

It turned out that Tom Woods was wrong and nothing happened that day. Towards nightfall, he instructed Jack to return to camp, tell the boys to be ever on the watch and have Wallace come down the following morning. It was quite dark when he reached camp and he was so tired that after a sandwich he turned in for the night.

Wallace rose with the dawn and wasted no time getting set for his hike down the mountain. When he arrived at the farm house, Tom Woods played the same trick on him as he did on Jack. Side by side, the two lay in hiding and waited. “What did the boys do yesterday?” asked the agent.

“They kept watch all day long but nothing happened.”

“It will today,” asserted Woods.

All day long they lay in hiding and waited. It appeared as though Tom Woods was wrong again. But that did not despair him. He continued telling his humorous anecdotes and kept himself and his companion cheerful. The sun swung across the horizon. Noon came and passed. The hours dragged along. Towards five o’clock, the government agent suddenly broke off in the middle of a sentence; he became very alert. Wallace felt a cold chill run down his spine. Woods hurriedly whispered, “Don’t get excited. Stay under cover until I tell you otherwise.”

A car swung slowly in from the road into the yard. Behind the farm house, it stopped. Wallace whispered to his companion, “The one at the wheel—Bud, the stranger.”

Woods nodded. He held the automatic ready. As the car stopped, Bud jumped out and called back over his shoulder, “Just want to take a look around. It’ll take me only a minute.”

The agent crept away. Silently he tiptoed from behind the car. Coming close, he hissed. “One move or sound and you’re dead. Put up your hands.”

The gangster raised his hands above his head and moved to step out of the car. As he did so, he made a quick, wild move for his pocket. Woods swung, hitting the gangster an awful wallop on the chin with the butt end of his gun. The gangster let out a yell as he went down in a heap. The agent quickly crawled behind the car. Bud came running from around the corner of the house and hid himself behind a tree. He waited. Woods also crouched and waited, but became impatient and fired across the top of the car. No answer.

Wallace was still lying in the same position and eagerly watched the proceedings. He was anxious and excited. He wondered what he could do to help but he realized that for the present the best he could do was to keep out of the way and let the two fight it out. One of them, he thought, would surely never leave that yard alive. He only hoped that everything would come out for the best.

Bud stretched himself out on the ground and began to shoot wildly, combing the ground. A pause came as the gangster took time out to reload his gun. Tom Woods took the opportunity to make a dash of several yards and throw himself behind a pile of logs which he had set up for the occasion. He shifted his position for two reasons: one was that the car did not offer a good enough barricade and secondly to draw the firing away from the direction where Wallace was hiding.

A fraction of a second after he threw himself behind the barricade, a bullet buried itself in one of the logs. The agent answered it by sending a bullet that just skimmed the bark of the tree. Tom Woods waited. He was in a better position than his enemy. Safe behind his barricade, he also had an open view of the yard and gate and he could not be taken unawares by anyone coming from that direction. Of course, he might be surprised by someone coming from the mountain, but that was unlikely because he could, without endangering himself, frequently turn his head, and scan the outlying woods and farmland. On the other hand, Bud was in a precarious position. He had only one alternative and that was to flee. But to leave his safe position behind the tree was to invite a bullet from Tom Woods’ gun, which might be fatal. So he also settled down to watchful waiting. Now while the agent was in no hurry and had plenty of time, the gangster was anxious and in a hurry to get to the cave. Without doubt, the government agent had the advantage.

In the meanwhile, Wallace wondered what he could do to help end the situation quickly in favor of his friend. After Tom Woods took up his new position, he felt that Bud’s attention would be entirely taken up by the agent and that he was free to move away from his spot. Crawling on his belly, he moved slowly and gradually. Finally he came to a position that placed him to the rear and to left of the gangster. He picked out a good-sized stone and, rising on his knees, took careful aim and hurled the missile. Then he fell quickly under cover.

The stone missed its objective and bounced off the tree. However, it attracted Bud’s attention. The gangster turned quickly and fired twice in the direction from which he thought the stone came. In doing that, however, he exposed his arm up to his elbow. The next instant he let out a most horrible scream. The agent had sent a bullet through the gangster’s wrist. The pain was real but the intensity of the yell was a foil. The gangster bounded forward to recover his weapon which had fallen out of his hand. The next moment he uttered a deep cry and toppled over. A bullet from Woods’ gun had pierced his throat.

Suddenly everything was silent again. There was a long pause. Tom Woods lay behind his barricade and waited, while Wallace, in his hiding place, also did not move. When he thought it was all right, the agent came out from behind his shelter and called for Wallace to come forward but to be careful. First they attended the gangster who was knocked out by Tom Woods. The stricken man, at the first touch, moaned. The agent put his hand to the man’s jaw and the gangster bounded up as if he had been struck by an electric shock. Wallace whispered, “You must have cracked his jaw when you hit him.”

“Guess so. Give me a hand and we’ll carry him to the barn.”

Bud, lifeless now, was also carried to the barn. Removing the clothes of the two gangsters, the agent and Wallace donned them. Wallace looked a little ridiculous in his outfit but his companion fixed him up so that he looked all right. Finally, they tied up the wounded man so that he couldn’t escape, and tied a handkerchief over his mouth so that he could not cry out. The two came out of the barn. The agent held one of the automatics used by the gangsters and said, “Here, you had better take it boy. It may come in handy later.”