"How we do that? We stay here an' fight 'em, eh?"

"An' that'll give 'em the lay o' this place. We want t' draw 'em up the beach. Chase along up through the woodses an' come out 'bout a mile above and shoot oncet er twicet. Two of us kin do that an' two kin lay out yan at the end o' the path an' watch fer any of 'em startin' in this away, an' then you kin lead 'em off. See? That's the way the smugglin' fellers do it."

The plan must have looked good to the fellow still in the darkness; Gus did not know to whom he was talking, but he heard the man walk away rapidly. He waited, as though on pins, and in a moment three figures loomed before him, one voice questioning him again. The boy tactfully repeated his suggestions—then turned back with them as they started forward, evidently agreeing.

One fellow, Gus could see, was rubbing his eyes. All carried guns.

Two men kept to the path that led toward the beach edge of the woods. Another and Gus went straight on. Presently Gus suggested that they stop and rest awhile; then move on farther up, stop, scatter a little, and listen. He would sneak out into the open, he said, and look around. There was no danger of his being seen. It would be best to remain thus for an hour or more—perhaps till morning, mosquitoes or no mosquitoes. A grunt signified agreement.

The boy crept out toward the dunes and on, until he felt sure he could not be heard. Then, with the smooth, hard sand for a track he ran, softly on tiptoe, until once again he came below the tall pine. A low hiss thrice repeated was answered, and he found Bill in the same spot.

"They're all stuck along in the woods yonder," Gus whispered. "If you hear them moving off toward the cabin again, shoot. If they go on, shoot twice. If they come your way, lie low. Here goes for Tony, old scout!"

Gus had some difficulty getting to the cabin from the south side. He missed it once, got too far into the woods, turned, regained the dunes, struck in again and this time started to pass within a few yards of it, but by merest chance saw the gable end against the sky.



CHAPTER XXVI

A CALL FOR HELP

Again Gus approached the cabin, feeling sure now of the outcome of the plan. He reached the clump of thick pines below the tall one and turned to make the bee-line in, not a hundred yards from the building, when the alarm notes of a ruffed grouse reached his ears. It was just ahead, the angry, quick, threatening call of a mother bird, disturbed with her young, quick to fight and to warn them of danger. Might not this be a weasel, fox or mink that had sneaked upon her? But if so, it would be the note of warning only, to scatter the little ones into hiding-places while the hen sought a safe shelter just out of the reach of the marauder and after she had, pretending a hurt, led it to a distance from the brood.

But this was different. The grouse had played her usual trick of decoy, no doubt, and failing in this had returned to attack something regarded as a larger enemy. She would know better than to include deer, or the wandering, half-wild cattle of the peninsula as such. There were no puma and few bear in these woods, and surely none here. What then could the disturber be but a man? Gus well knew the ways of these knowing birds.

The boy's advance now became so cautious as to make no audible sound even to himself, such being possible over the pine needles. Slowly he gained a vantage point where again the roof gable was visible against the sky. No sound ahead, except the mother grouse making the sweetest music imaginable in calling her young ones together during a half minute. The coast must be clear,—but just as the boy was about to go boldly forward, a flash of light shone about him and his staring eyes discerned, not thirty feet away, the three watchers standing together. They had returned, probably by pre-arrangement and had met in the roadway. Now they were silently listening for the fourth fellow—himself. One chap, thinking that they were not observed, had struck a match to see the time, or to light a cigarette. Had they been looking in Gus's direction they might have seen him. Presently, mumbling some words, they all went on again toward the cabin, and Gus, sick at heart because seeing now no chance for a renewal of his effort, turned back after an hour to where Bill waited.

"Why, Gus, they came out here, all of them together and went part way over to the beach, then returned almost right away. I could hear only their voices at first, but when they came back they passed close enough for me to hear a little of what they said, I think it was the Malatesta that we know. He was declaring that 'he,' and I guess he meant you, must be the same. Do you think he knows you, Gus?"

"I don't know. They must be suspicious of my story, or my purpose, anyway, or they would have stayed out and watched. Perhaps one of them followed far enough to hear me head out this way. Anyway, they think the cabin is the safest place. We can't do anything now, so let's go back and hit the hay."

They went back, Gus to throw himself on old Dan's couch and sleep like a dead man and Bill to take up the receiver phones, nodding over the table, to be sure, but remaining generally awake. For two hours he kept catching odd bits of no importance through long intervals. Then suddenly he sat up and, reaching over, poked Gus with his crutch. After two or three hard pokes Gus opened his eyes.

"Say, somebody's calling for help! I can't get it right, I reckon they've taken Tony away and out to sea again. Can't tell who it's from; it's all jumbled, anyway. Done now, I guess."

"But what was it?" asked Gus, now very wide awake.

"It came like this, in code," said Bill. "The 'S.O.S.' several times. Then: 'Aground. Rounding inlet, east channel, headed out. Hurry.' There was a lot of stuff in between, but not intelligible."

"Can it be Tony?"

"Who else?"

"But would they let him broadcast anything?"

"Gave them the slip, maybe."

"What'll we do?"

"You say it."

"Well, then—rounding east channel of inlet, eh? Tide going out. Likely they'll stick on the shoals. If only Dan were here now."

"What then?"

"Why, we'd take his catboat and overhaul them. They'll probably stick going about and the wind's dead against going out. But Dan——"

"Isn't here, but I am. I'll go forward with the gun and you can handle the Stella. Let's go!"

They went. It was but the work of a few minutes to gain the landing, hoist sail, cast off and reach down the bay, the wind abeam. Bill got into a snug place at the mast, Gus held the tiller, each boy firmly determined to do something that might call for the utmost daring and swift action.

Turning into the wind at the inlet, the boys went about first on the starboard tack and then luffed a half dozen times to get through into the broader water; but the sand bars were erratic. Gus knew two that were fixed from the set currents; other might change every few days. Bill crept to the rail and gazed ahead; there had been a moon, but it was cloudy.

Fortune favored them, however. At the moment that they were about to hit a narrow sand bar, the clouds parted and Bill gave a yell. Gus also saw the line of white and shoved over his tiller, missing the bar by the closest margin. In deep water again they swept across the inlet as the clouds darkened the moon and they were suddenly confronted by a splotch of white. They swerved once more just in time to avoid striking the stern of a small schooner fast on a bar, only her jib flapping in the breeze, not a light showing.

Gus put the Stella's head into the wind and close-hauled the boom, but she fell away slowly. He told Bill to hail, which was done with a truly sailor-like "Ahoy!" repeated many times, and followed by the landlubber's "Hello, there!" but without getting an answer. Gus had to work around to get the wind so as to come up again. Still there was no reply to the hailing, and without more ado the Stella was put alongside of the schooner, going also aground, but lightly.

"You grapple and hold her, Bill. I'll board her and see what's what," said Gus, pistol in hand, stepping over the schooner's rail.

Swiftly, without hesitation, he rounded the cabin, peered down the small companion-way and shouted into the cabin, door, calling loudly. Then he went back, got the Stella's lantern, and Bill, having made fast, limped along after, gun in hand. The two silently explored every nook and cranny finding, to their utter astonishment, no one aboard. The door to one of the staterooms, however, was fastened.

"I wonder if somebody is in there," whispered Gus.

"Must be. Looks funny. Let's call," Bill suggested.

"I guess we'd better beat it and mind our own business," said Gus, loudly. "Come on, we don't belong here at all."

Had the boys been suddenly confronted with a genie, at the behest of Aladdin's lamp, their surprise could not have been much greater than at the response from within the room. It was a girl's voice that reached them, and though very sweet and low it was full of trepidation.

"I hear you. What can you be plotting now? If you intend to kill me you will have to destroy this boat to do it, for I'll surely kill you if you try to break in here. Now, you'd better listen to me again. Sail back and I'll see that you're not arrested and—I'll get you a reward. You will only get into jail by this——"

"I guess, Miss, you're talking to the wrong party," said Bill.

"You're mistaking us for somebody else," asserted Gus.

"Oh, who are you, then?" came the voice.

"Two fellows at your service. We got a radio at Oysterman Dan's and thought we could rescue——"

"I sent it. I got to the wireless when they were working to get us off. But please tell me exactly who you are."

"We are Marshallton Tech boys, down here on vacation,—that's all."

"Oh, you are? We know the professor of political economy——"

"Jennings? He's one of our favorites—fine chap."

"And that was where that boy was kidnaped, too."

"The same. He never turned up." Bill nudged Gus.

"Two weeks ago I was at Guilford and saw the ball game with Marshallton Tech," said the voice.

"Hooray! Right out here with me is the pitcher who won that shut-out for us."

"No! Do you really mean it? And then it was you who hailed and came aboard just now, and the others have not returned? I can trust you, can't I?"

"Why not? We're really harmless. But tell us who are these fellows?"

"I do not know, except that they are scoundrels and thieves,—of that I am sure."

The door suddenly opened and a figure stood before the boys, something white, glistening and menacing in her hand. An arm was outstretched to turn a switch. With the flooding light Bill and Gus beheld a very pretty girl of about their own age, who smiled at them and hastily held the revolver behind her. Reassured, she calmly continued:

"I am Lucy Waring. May I ask——?"

"My chum here is Gus Grier and I am Bill Brown."

"I shall be indebted to you forever," the girl said graciously. "You see I am in an awful fix. Those men deliberately stole our boat. This is my father's auxiliary yacht, the X-Ray. My father is Doctor Louis Waring, of——"

"The great Doctor Waring, nerve specialist?"

"Nerves, yes. I believe people call him great sometimes. You see we have a summer home at Hawk's Bill, just below the inlet here, and we girls, my two sisters and some friends are there now. Father and Mother are coming down to-morrow. I'm fond of boating, and sometimes, just to be on the water, I come down and sleep in the yacht. To-night I did and I waked up to feel that we were adrift and sailing, with somebody on board—two, I think. While I was wondering what to do, one came and tried my door and called to me, I said something to him, you may believe! But he would hardly listen to me, though he couldn't force the door and I told him I'd shoot if he did. Presently we went aground and the men went back and started to work with the motor. I slipped out and got at the wireless, locking my door after me and locking the wireless room door. I don't know how they didn't hear me, though they were making an awful racket trying to hammer something. I sent several messages, then I listened and still heard them talking and slipped back. They couldn't get the engine to run—it can hardly be cranked, but it has a starter which they didn't understand. About half an hour ago they went off in the dory and I thought they were returning when you came."

"And you have no idea who they are?"

"None whatever. I only know that the talk of the one that called to me sounded as though he were a foreigner, perhaps an Italian—about the other I couldn't say. They surely meant to steal this boat, and if they had not stuck here, I don't know whatever would have become of me. And now, may I ask of you to——?"

"Start that motor and get you back? You sure may—and it ought not to be much of a job."

"My father will liberally reward you."

"We don't want any reward, Miss Waring. Doing mechanical stunts in trying to rescue people is our specialty."



CHAPTER XXVII

UNDER FIRE

"I have a hunch," put in Gus, "that those fellows may come back any minute, possibly with some means, or hoping to get this boat afloat. We don't want them to catch us off guard."

"I'll stand watch," said the girl. "The slightest intimation——"

"Good. Let's look at that power plant," demanded Bill.

It was a matter of minutes only, although the time was lengthened by the boat thieves' having hammered the gearing that connected with the starter, trying to slide it along on its shaft key in order to permit the cranking. They had failed in some way, however, to manipulate the gas and spark.

The boys had slipped the gearing into place again and the adjustments had been made, when a call from the girl made the busy lads grab their weapons and get up on deck, Bill being almost as quick as Gus.

Not fifty yards away and plainly seen in the now unclouded moonlight, a skiff was approaching. The boys, lying flat on the deck and peering over the rail, and the girl, crouching in the companion-way, could see three persons in the dory. Gus again told Bill to hail.

"Ahoy, there! Back water and stay where you are! What do you want?"

The rhythmic beat of the oars continued, rapidly lessening the distance.

"Halt, or we'll shoot! If you don't want to get sunk and have your carcasses filled as full of holes as a pepper-box, you'll sheer off!"

This had its effect. The oars were held and pushed to check the motion. No word came in reply, but Gus plainly saw an object that resembled a gun barrel come from a vertical to a foreshortened position. This was sufficient for drastic action, though the boy was averse to compelling a tragedy. With careful aim he sent a load of shot just over the heads of the boatmen, then instantly fired another into the water at one side. Almost immediately a shot came in reply, the bullet glancing from the cabin roof.

Gus slipped in two more shells and coolly waited, knowing that there was only a remote possibility that the shots from the dory would do any great harm, but intending, if the rascals fired again, to give them a real taste of buckshot firing, at the bow of their boat first, to splinter and sink it gradually; then at the men if they persisted.

The dory turned about quickly. The oarsman was evidently in haste to get away. Then came a hail:

"Say, you! What you do in thata boat? That our boat! Get out, I say to you! We want to come aboard and go on away!"

Gus had heard that voice before. It belonged to one of the Malatesta. Did they have Tony with them? Were they making a terrible effort to escape in this way from the peninsula, and get to sea again? How then would they secure the hoped for ransom? Or were they merely going to hide the X-Ray, expecting to use her if their scheme fell short? Bill had sensed the situation.

"Your boat, is she? You'll find her back at Hawk's Bill where she belongs, and in a little while you're going to find yourself in jail. Beat it now while the water's fine!"

The oarsman was nothing loath. Either he was not the bravest in the party, or else he had the keenest appreciation of the odds against an exposed position. In a very few minutes the dory was a mere gray wraith on the water, but there it hung. Evidently the rower was overruled by others less cautious, or of the certain conviction that at the distance the yacht was a better mark than a rowboat.

Bill had the motor going in a jiffy. Gus was at the wheel, crouching. Throwing in the reverse clutch he sent the boat off the sands. Then, letting Bill hold her steady, dropped the Stella's sails, cast her loose at the end of a hauser for a tow rope, paid it out from the stern and went back to the wheel.

He was about to swing round and head back into the narrow channel free from sand bars, which he could discern by the rougher water, when bullets began to come from the dory. They were aimed at the wheel and whether sent low or not, the trajectory, even from a high-powered gun, would pull them down to the danger level. One struck the mast directly in front of him. One hit the deck and glanced singing. The music from another flattened bullet was stopped by the water beyond.

Gus wanted desperately to get behind something, for this firing might mean death or wounding at any moment. But he held on, hoping shortly to get out of range. Bill, at the rear hatch, called to Gus to set her and come below, and Gus called back that they'd be aground again in a minute if he did. Then a brave deed was done.

The girl, perhaps as fully aware of the danger as the boys, leaped into the cabin, came out with two chairs and some cushions, erected a barricade alongside of Gus and said to him:

"I want to get back and we can't stop, but most of all I want you to be safe."

Then she gave a sudden cry and staggered into the cabin. Gus called Bill, who limped across quickly. The shots continued, and one hit the chairs. Gus wondered where it would have hit him. Presently they were too far away for the shots to reach them, for they had entered the narrow bay.



CHAPTER XXVIII

ANOTHER SCHEME

Bill was not cut out for a nurse. His sympathies were large, but his fingers, deft at managing fine mechanical apparatus, were all thumbs when it came to anything even remotely concerned with human anatomy. The girl had been hit in the shoulder, undoubtedly a mere flesh wound, and the bleeding must be stopped. Lucy was very pale, but there was never a tear, nor the least indication of her fainting. She merely held her arm down and watched, with most rueful countenance, the blood dripping from her finger tips upon the polished floor.

"I'll get Gus," said Bill, almost ready to weep at the sight the girl presented. She had torn her dress from her shoulder and a seared gash was disclosed which she could not well observe.

Gus pointed out the course to Bill, then went into the cabin. In a minute or less he had searched and obtained clean rags, torn strips from them, found a nearly exhausted bottle of vaseline, coated the rag with it and, with a deftness almost worthy of a surgeon, washed the wound with a quick sopping of gasoline. Then as more blood was flowing, he bound up the shoulder and arm so that the flow stopped and by its coagulation germs were excluded. Whereupon Lucy sought a couch where she lay, exhausted, and with a decided desire to cry, while Gus went back to the wheel.

* * * * *

"You shall hear from father and mother and all of us. They will be here early and father must see you." This was the very earnest declaration of the elder Waring sister, a young woman of twenty-five or more, "I cannot alone express our thanks, our deep gratitude——"

"To use a rather slangy expression—please 'forget it,'" said Bill, laughing.

Lucy, supported by another older sister, could only thank the boys with her pretty eyes. She did make so bold as to hold the hand of poor Gus until he turned a fiery red. Blushing herself, even through her pallor, she still persisted in trying to show her appreciation and admiration. Bill had to grab and pull his stammering chum away.

The run back in the Stella was made in rapid time to her owner's slip. And there, the morning light just beginning to show in the eastern sky, the boys found an odd-looking fellow busily getting ready to cast off a fishing skiff. He was one Pepperman, commonly called "Swamp" for short. He was something of a crony of Dan's and the boys had seen him before.

As they headed in they made out the identity of "Swamp." Gus suddenly had one of his ideas. He conveyed it to Bill in few words:

"We'll get 'Swamp' to go to those Malatestas and tell them he can steal them a boat. Then we'll get Tony away if he's still there. You talk to 'Swamp.'"

"Hello, Mr. Pepperman! Going fishing?" began Bill, as they made fast and lowered sail. "Yes? Expect to catch much? No? Well, I know something that will bring you in two hours more money than in three weeks of the best fishing you ever had."

"Swamp" wanted to know how such a thing could be done. Said Bill:

"Dead easy! You take a walk right away down through the pines toward the Point. Know how to whistle a tune? Sure; well then, come over all the tunes you know. Let on you're hunting for special fish bait or something. Sheer off toward the big pine and keep through toward the ocean. You'll meet somebody likely. Don't get curious, but talk fishing and boats. Tell them you take folks fishing and that you have a dandy boat all ready—a fast one. They'll probably want to see her. Tell them you keep her up here, but if they'll hang off shore at the Point you'll sail her around there. Then, when they leave for the Point and you're sure of it, you come up the bay side road and tell us. We'll be waiting. How much is there in it? Twenty-five dollars, Mr. Pepperman, if your errand turns out successfully. Is that enough?"

"I reckon hit air," remarked the sententious "Swamp." "When do I git the money?"

"Any time—to-day," said Gus, and without another word the lanky fellow, laying aside his tackle and bait of crab meat, was off into the woods.

Hardly an hour passed before Gus remarked to tired and sleepy Bill: "Somebody's coming. I'll bet it's 'Swamp.'"

It was, and he reported the exact carrying out of the plan. Two men, young fellows, one very dark-skinned, the other light, and both carrying guns, had started to the Point to wait for him. The other man,—there had been three along the wood road—had headed up into the nearer woods along the ocean side.

"You go back and wait for Dan," said Gus to Bill. "I'm going to make one more try for Tony."



CHAPTER XXIX

AT THE CRACK O' DAY

"Tony!"

There was no reply. Gus called again, more sharply, but still fearful of being heard. Silence. There could be no delay in action. With his nerves still a-tingle, the boy seized a stout bit of wood, evidently cut for the fireplace, inserted it between the window bars, bore down and with a low squeak of protest the nails came out. Another pry, with the sill for a fulcrum, and there was a hole big enough for a body to get through. The bit of wood now acted as a step and in a moment Gus was inside the cabin.

At the extreme end, lying against the logs, lay a figure. Gus instantly stooped to shake it. Tony waked up with a cry of alarm.

"Don't, don't yell, Tony, it's Gus! Get up and come quick!"

Nothing more was required of Tony. He was instantly awake and in action. Not another word passed between the boys—but was that cry heard by the kidnapers?—the rescuer wondered—and with reason. They must be off instantly.

To the window! As Tony drew near it, pulling Gus by the hand across the dark room, he paused. Outside there was the faint sound of a step. Tony uttered a faint "sh," and grabbed Gus by the arm. It was the elder Malatesta.

"Ah! So? You make get-away. I fix that." The next instant the muzzle of a rifle was poked through the broken place—poked well through, and possibly this shrewd defier of law and order never made a greater mistake, which he recognized when he felt the muzzle seized and bent aside.

He pulled the trigger, but the bullet buried itself harmlessly in the wall of the cabin. Malatesta attempted to jerk the gun away, but Gus, fortified by the leverage against the sill and the window bars, held on, his own weapon crashing to the floor. How Tony managed to dive through that hole as he did, landing squarely on his enemy neither he nor Gus ever could figure out, but when Gus found the weapon free in his hands, picked up his own gun and followed Tony he found the insensible miscreant, who had received a sufficient smash in the jaw from Tony's heel.

"We must fly, my dear friend Gus," said Tony, "for now they will come—those other two!"

"We will stay right here and give them a pleasant reception," said Gus. "I will watch on the path, Tony. You take this gun. But first get a rope, quick! Tie that chap's arms behind him and search him for automatics, or anything."

It was but the work of a few minutes. Malatesta seemed to hesitate about coming to his senses. This was a good thing for the success of the subsequent capture; for the elder brother might have called out and warned his two confederates.

Gus told Tony to guard the far side of the cabin and arranged that either must come at the call of the other. They must shoot only when sure.

Back came the younger Malatesta, their better known enemy. From behind a bush Gus poked his shotgun muzzle into the fellow's ribs, told him to drop his rifle and stick up his hands. As he did this, he uttered a frantic yell of warning. Then he, too, was seized and bound.

They waited long and eagerly for the American accomplice. Would he sneak through the woods and try to surprise them? To guard against this, Gus left Tony with the two prisoners, thus reversing the conditions under which he had lately been held. There was no glee, no revengeful spirit shown by the fine-minded Italian youth, but a keen sense of satisfaction and determination glowed in his eyes.

Gus scoured the woods, hoping to find the accomplice, who would not recognize him as an enemy. But the fellow was gone. It was an easy thing for him to hide there—but not so easy to get away altogether, past the cordon of police now swarming over the peninsula. But he did get away, for he was never heard of again.



CHAPTER XXX

MORE MESSAGES

Oysterman Dan's little cottage became the scene of more than a reunion of old friends and of glad father and son. The news reporters also came, and, somewhat to his disgust, old Dan had to submit to his "pixture bein' took," along with the banker, Bill, Gus, Tony, and some of the insistent police and detectives who are often too eager for notoriety.

The Malatesta brothers, too, were not forgotten. Before they were taken off to a well deserved imprisonment, they were pictured and thus indelibly branded. Later they were returned to their native country.

All this business having been accomplished and Oysterman Dan rewarded utterly beyond his imagination, Mr. Sabaste took command with a lavish hand, and the return of the four principals, by yacht and motor car, became a gala affair. Bill and Gus refused beyond parley to accept the reward Mr. Sabaste had offered. What the boys had done was in friendship only. Expenses? The banker had the say as to that.

Tony, in spite of his long imprisonment, was speedily restored to his happy, kindly state of mind. A long, roundabout trip took them all back to the Marshallton Tech where the late unfortunate could again outfit himself from an ample wardrobe, while Bill and Gus restored, with the janitor's knowledge, the radio transmitting set and the portable receiver. A new receiving set was to be completed soon and set up for Oysterman Dan.

The Farrells were visited; Tony went to the room he had occupied, but he could not remember a thing that had occurred there in connection with his mysterious disappearance. The farmer's wife and daughter set them all down to a good, old-fashioned American dinner that the Sabastes laughingly declared did not need spaghetti to make it perfect.

Then, at the school again, the banker requested the use once more of the radio transmitter. Bill sat, listening in. Gus and Tony stood in the doorway, talking of school days.

"This is Angelo Sabaste speaking. I wish especially to convey a message to my old friend Guglielmo Marconi, on his yacht, the Elettra."

Then followed many words in Italian, interspersed only here and there with an American proper name.

At the end of the message there was the usual pause. The banker took up the phones, Gus and Tony rushed to others. Presently they heard, in quiet, even tones, the hoped-for reply in English, as Mr. Sabaste had requested it should be:

"Senatore Marconi sends congratulations to Signor Sabaste that his son is restored to him and that two criminals, though they are our countrymen, are to be sent from America, where too many such have come and belittled the name of Italy. But men like Signor Sabaste will lift that estimate.

"Senatore Marconi suggests, at your request, that the finest reward that could come to these young Americans who have shown such loyalty to your son, with such ingenuity and mechanical ability, is that they be encouraged to complete their technical education and then, with your son, to use their talents in a commercial way. Again congratulations for your son and those young Americans and—the best of success!"

How Mr. Sabaste, eager to carry out this suggestion from the famous inventor of wireless communication, joined with the boys' old friend Mr. Hooper in the establishment of a company in mechanical and electrical engineering, under the name of The Loyalty Company, will be told in "Bill Brown, Radio Wizard."

THE END