After proceeding about half a mile, they came to an old wood road, and along this they marched till they reached a camp hut in the bosom of the great forest.
“We’ll stop here,” said Dugan.
They compelled Frank to march into the hut, opening the door for him to enter. The glass in the one small window was broken, and the place was none too light with the door standing wide ajar.
There were some barrels and boxes there, and Frank immediately decided that the hut had been used more than once to store goods smuggled over the border.
“We ain’t got no further use for this place,” said Dugan. “The officers have been watching it off and on for some time, so we ain’t been able to keep anything here. Which of the barrels has the powder in it, Huck?”
“This one,” said Jones, indicating one with a large bung hole in one end.
“All right. We’ll tie him to that.”
But the time had come when Merry was resolved to make a desperate struggle for life. He suddenly ducked his head and leaped forward, butting Jones in the stomach and bowling him over. But a most unfortunate thing happened to him as he tried to leap over the fallen man and dodge out by the door.
He tripped and was thrown headlong upon his face. He was stunned, and, before he could rise, Dugan was on him, pinning him to the ground.