“If this fellow in the cabin is such a bad man, we can’t afford to risk losing sight of him,” said Bob. “Suppose Joe and Jimmy and I stay here, while Herb goes back with you, Mr. Brandon. We can stay here until your two regulars show up, and Herb can then bring them here to relieve us. How does that strike you?”
“It’s a way out of the predicament,” answered Frank Brandon, his frown vanishing. “You fellows are apt to have a long vigil, though. My men won’t get to the camp until this afternoon, and after that it takes quite a while to reach this place.”
“I guess we can stand it,” said Bob. “Can’t we, fellows?” he asked, glancing at the others.
Both Joe and Jimmy agreed, although the latter had secret misgivings as he thought regretfully of the dinner he would miss. However, such considerations were of little weight just then, and it was finally decided to adopt Bob’s plan.
“I’ll leave my pistol with you,” said Brandon, as he and Herb prepared to leave. “But whatever else you do, steer clear of this gang and don’t use firearms unless as a last resort. Remember, that if they once find out their hiding place is discovered, our whole scheme will be ruined.”
The boys promised to exercise the greatest caution, and then Mr. Brandon and Herb started back toward camp.
Bob, after a brief inspection, dropped the deadly automatic pistol into his pocket, and then the three friends considered how they might best keep watch on the cabin without being discovered. First of all, at Joe’s suggestion, they armed themselves with serviceable clubs, that might come in handy in time of necessity. Then they slipped silently into the underbrush, and worked their way along until they had attained a position where they commanded a view of the cabin’s only door.
The spot they had chosen was surrounded by dense thickets, and one might have passed within ten feet without spying them. Bob carefully parted the bushes and broke off twigs here and there until they could see plainly enough, and yet were securely hidden from the cabin. This done, the boys made themselves as comfortable as possible under the circumstances, and prepared for a long vigil.
They had been in their retreat less than half an hour when the door of the shack was flung open, and the black-moustached man appeared on the threshold. He gazed searchingly about the little clearing, then glanced up at the mounting sun and stretched prodigiously. At length, apparently satisfied that all was as it should be, he turned back into the cabin, and soon the aroma of bacon and coffee came floating down the wind to where the boys lay. Jimmy’s nose twitched and his mouth watered, but he thought of the importance of the mission that had been intrusted to them by the radio inspector and stifled his longings.
The man in the cabin ate a leisurely breakfast, and apparently was in no hurry. Indeed, from the way he loitered over the meal, the boys rather suspected that he was awaiting the arrival of some other members of the gang. Nor were they mistaken. After a time the lads could hear the sound of approaching voices, and soon three men entered the clearing and made for the cabin. At the first sound of their voices, the man inside had stepped swiftly to the door, one hand in the bulging pocket of his coat; but when he recognized the others an ugly grin spread over his face, while his hand dropped to his side.