A MISSING MOTOR BOAT.
"You rapscallion," Pat Mack whispered, as the two came together in the embrace of a particularly tough creeper, "how did you ever get here? I saw you last on the good old Bowery!"
"I didn't fly over," replied Jimmie. "Here," he added, "take this bolo an' cut that rope! What did you mean by chokin' me when I cut you loose?"
"A hug of affection!" retorted the other. "You looked like an angel to me! Did you flutter down from the sky in the rain?"
"I ought to give you a good punch for it!" Jimmie replied. "You near took the hide off me beautiful nose! Have you got that bloomin' steel cable cut? Seems to me they are comin' after us!"
The boys stood perfectly still and listened. Above the patter of the rain, above the murmur of the trees, above the chattering of the aroused monkeys, came the crash of heavy bodies through the bushes, the sound of human voices.
"Sure they are!" whispered Pat, and they set off again.
Working their way painfully through the jungle, falling now and then over long vines, coming into contact with great trees and swinging parasites which brushed against their faces like snakes, the boys pressed on as rapidly as possible, but ever the sounds of pursuit came closer! The pursuers were more familiar with jungle methods than they, and no pretense of secrecy was made.
"Have you got a gun?" whispered Jimmie.
"I haven't even got a toothpick," was the reply.
"We'll have to fight before long," Jimmie said, panting with the exertion of the unfamiliar struggle with the jungle.
"There's plenty of hollow trees about," suggested Pat. "Why not hide in one of them until they pass?"
The suggestion seemed a good one, for a moment. Then the uselessness of such an effort at concealment became apparent. With sinking hearts the boys heard the low whine of a hound!
"I wonder how they managed to track us so easily," Jimmie said.
"Give me the bolo," Pat said. "I'll split the dog's head open if he comes near us. Use your gun on the men."
The boys did not give up hope of final escape, but pressed on for a time. However, the acclivity they were ascending grew steeper as they advanced, and they were obliged to stop now and then to rest. On one of these occasions they heard a commotion in the jungle just ahead of them. This was disheartening!
"They've flanked us!" whispered Pat.
The pursuers were carrying a torch which, in the rain, gave a dim light, but still served to direct their steps, and the glow of the flame now reached to the very spot where the lads stood. The bushes behind them parted and the glowing eyes of the hound looked up in their faces. Then the call of the beast told the men following that he had at last sighted his prey.
The boys turned to flee again, but came up against an almost perpendicular wall of rock. The pursuers saw them now and came on with cries of victory.
"Guess they've got us!" Pat said.
"Not yet!" Jimmie answered.
But, however courageous the lads might have proved themselves to be, they would have been taken in a moment had they not received unexpected assistance. The hound was almost at their feet when a shot was heard and the great beast fell to the ground, struggled for an instant, and lay still.
Another shot followed the first instantly, and the torch dropped from the uplifted hand of the evil-faced man who was carrying it in the lead. An intense, uncanny darkness followed the extinction of the torch, and the two boys took advantage of it to edge around the face of the rock which had blocked their progress. Without the help of the dog, and without the torch, the pursuers could do little, and stood on equal terms with the pursued.
It was impossible, of course, for the boys to make their way through the jungle without making any noise, and in a moment the pursuing party showed its temper by firing revengeful shots at the spots from which the sounds of their progress proceeded. After half a dozen bullets had clipped the bushes about the heads of the lads two shots came from in front, the lead whizzing over their heads. A sharp cry of distress was heard in the rear at the second shot, and then all was still.
The boys crouched in the open space between the "legs" of a balete tree and waited for some possible explanation of the strange thing that had taken place. Who had killed the hound, and who was it that was shooting at the enemy over their heads? These questions were hard to answer.
"It is one of the boys from the Manhattan," Jimmie concluded, at last.
"Then why don't he show up?" demanded Pat. "Who is in the Manhattan?"
"Ned Nestor and two members of the Black Bear Patrol," was the reply. "We came over here to sleuth."
"To what?"
"To sleuth. To do the Sherlock Holmes stunt. To put down an insurrection in the Philippines!"
"You seem to be putting it down," Pat said, in a sarcastic tone.
"We've got it by the neck!" insisted Jimmie.
"Ned's being along will help some," said Pat. "He's the boy to get to the bottom of a tough case. If he's on this side of the world, that's him in the shrubbery just ahead. Did you hear the signals a short time ago?"
"Of course."
"Well, that's the bunch coming."
"What bunch?" demanded Jimmie.
"Why, the Chinks, of course."
"What they coming here for?"
"I guess they expect to take the Philippines home with 'em," was the reply. "Anyway, they're plotting to take Uncle Sam down and search him for them."
"Did you hear much of their talk?" asked Jimmie.
"Quite a little, but Lieutenant Rowe made so much noise I couldn't hear all that was said when they were near me. He's badly wounded."
"I'd like to know just what took place at the hut Captain Godwin put you fellows in night before last," Jimmie said.
"There's treachery somewhere," began Pat, but just then a sound reached their ears which drove all thoughts of that other night from their minds. It was the low, snarling call of a wolf!
"That's Ned!" whispered Jimmie.
"It's a Wolf, anyway," Pat exclaimed, losing caution in the excitement of the moment. "That will help some!"
The boy's voice must have been heard above the rain and the swishing of the tropical growth, for several shots came from the rear, and one of the bullets cut into the tree near Pat's head.
"They seem to be gettin' the range!" Pat said, scratching his head and blessing his lucky star that a bullet had not connected with it.
"They couldn't hit a flock of bridges!" said Jimmie, disdainfully.
Then he straightened up and gave out a long, shrill cry, like that of a wolf calling to the pack. Pat caught him by the arm and drew him back into the semi-shelter of the "legs" of the balete tree.
"You'll have a spray of lead flying this way in a second!" he said. "Can't you give the Wolf call without alarming the people of Hong Kong, six hundred miles away?"
"I'm celebratin'!" answered the boy.
Again the wolf cry echoed through the forest, and this time it was answered from within a few feet of where the boys stood. There were no shots this time, and it was concluded that the pursuers had returned to the camp.
"Ned!" called Jimmie.
"Hey, there!" added Pat.
"That voice sounds like Chatham Square!" said a voice close to the boy's elbow, and in the darkness two hands fumbled together and clasped in a hearty greeting.
"What you followin' me about for?" demanded Jimmie, as the three started on through the jungle again.
"You've got your nerve!" said Pat. "Only for the darkness I'd hand you one for that. What's he following you for? If he hadn't followed you, both of us would have been captured back there."
"Hereafter," Ned said, "when Jimmie goes into the woods I'm going to tie a string to him, so he can be pulled back home."
"Huh!" snickered Pat, "they tied plenty of strings to me, but they didn't pull me back home!"
It was so still in the rear, for all of any sounds of pursuit, that the boys decided that their enemies had given up the search for them, so they walked faster and soon came out on the elevation which Ned had mounted on leaving the Manhattan in the afternoon. The rain ceased gradually, and a fugitive moon was seen now and then among the hurrying clouds.
With the first show of light Ned looked Pat Mack over with interest. The Irish lad returned the friendly glance with interest, and the two again clasped hands.
"We didn't anticipate such a meeting," Ned said.
"You knew I had gone to the Philippines," Pat said, "but I had no idea you would ever wander off here. Tell me about it."
The story was soon told, in condensed form, and then Ned asked:
"That was Lieutenant Rowe who was captured?"
"Sure! They got into our hut and geezled us good. I shall not be able to straighten out my arms for a month."
"Your hands must have been free when you left those signs in the grass," said the patrol leader.
"They caught me doing it," said Pat, "and that is why I was tied up tighter than the others."
"Well, you did a good job before they caught you," Jimmie said. "When you goin' back to let the others loose?"
"Lieutenant Rowe is in great pain because of his wound," Pat replied, "and we ought to do something for him soon."
"Where is the fourth man—the fellow who climbed in the window?" asked Ned in a moment.
"Say!" Pat answered, "there was something strange about that! He came in with new instructions—instructions which would have sent us off to Manila again, and the Lieutenant wouldn't stand for them, and so—"
"They had a scrap?" asked Jimmie.
"Did the Lieutenant doubt the authenticity of the instructions?" asked Ned.
"I think he did," was the reply, "and so did the messenger! Odd, eh?"
"But he must have been expecting the messenger," Ned went on, "for the screen at the window where he entered was left unfastened for him."
"He was expecting some one," answered Pat, "but of course he did not know who it would be. Anyway, he was not anticipating faked instructions."
"But why was he so secret about letting the fellow in? Why wasn't the door used when he came?"
"I don't know. The messenger the Lieutenant was expecting was to come secretly and go secretly. That's all I know about it."
"He was to be sent by the government officers?"
"Of course."
"From what point?"
"Oh, I don't know," answered Pat. "It is all a muddle. I can't understand how a man could follow us with instructions, anyway. We came fast in the motor boat, and could not have been followed in a canoe. I don't know where this messenger was to spring from, I'm sure. Anyhow, the wrong one came, or the right one brought the wrong dispatches, and Lieutenant Rowe wouldn't stand for it, and there was a conference, and then the brown men came in and we were geezled. Looked like a raid on a pool room in little old New York!"
"But this false messenger—the wrong man, or the right man with the wrong instructions—was captured also?"
"Yes, he was; and he made a row about it. I'll tell you what I think. There's treachery in the secret service somewhere. Some interest or some nation is trying to take the Philippines away from Uncle Sam."
"And receiving assistance from those in the employ of Uncle Sam!" Ned said, musingly. "Well, I'm here to see what can be done in the line of locking the traitors up in a nice hot cell at Manila."
"You needn't look much farther," Jimmie said. "There's a second motor boat out in a bay west of the island, and I'm tellin' you that it came across from China. It is the washee-washee people who are kicking up this mess, all right."
"You seem to have solved the mystery," laughed Ned. "From the first we have known that there was a conspiracy against Uncle Sam, but the question has always been 'Who?' and not 'What for?' The purpose of the alleged treaty has never been a mystery. What we are here for is to catch the conspirators with the goods, as Inspector Byrnes used to say. And now you've solved the puzzle!"
"Quit yer kiddin'!" exclaimed Jimmie. "I can say what I think, can't I? Besides, if it ain't the Chinks, who is it?"
"That is just what we want to know," Ned replied, more soberly. "There is a notion at Washington that it may be some financial interest. The newspapers were saying, when we left civilization, that a certain monopoly was financing the Mexican revolution, and there is a suspicion that some disloyal men in the United States are doing the same with the ignorant natives of the Philippines—urging them on and supplying them with guns and ammunition."
"Well," Pat observed, "whoever it is that is doing the business, there are traitors in the secret service department. The Americans who acted with the Filipinos who captured us are posted as to what is going on at Washington, all right."
"Let's go and get them," suggested Jimmie. "I guess the third degree would make them tell all about it!"
"Yes," suggested Pat, "you run out and get them while we find the Manhattan! That will be a nice little job for you!"
"I wouldn't let them tie me up, anyway," growled Jimmie, annoyed at the chaffing of his friends. "Say!" he added, "here's our little bay now, but where is that bloomin' motor boat? Some one's come and carried it away while we've been in the woods, an' took Jack and Frank away with it!"