Then came again those heart-rending cries:
“Oh don’t! Please don’t! I would tell you where he is if I knew! Please don’t burn me again!”
The professor’s blood boiled.
“We’ll soon put a stop to this horrible work!” he exclaimed to himself as he glided back to where the boys were and quickly made them acquainted with what he had seen.
“Come on!” cried Jerry. “We must rescue that boy!”
As softly as they could, the travelers advanced toward the hut. They found the door and, while the others with rifles in readiness stood in a semi-circle about it, Jerry made ready to knock and demand admittance.
“If they don’t open the door we must burst it in,” said the boy. “The professor and I will look to that, while you and Ned, Bob, must stand ready to rush in right after us with your guns ready. But don’t shoot unless your life is in danger, and then fire not to kill, but to wound.”
There was a minute of hesitation, for they all realized that it was taking a desperate chance to tackle such a rough gang in the midst of woods, far from civilization. But the sound of the poor boy’s cries nerved them on as, once more, the pitiful appeal for mercy rang out.
Jerry sprang forward and gave several vigorous blows on the door with the butt of his gun. All at once silence took the place of the confusion inside the hut.