Garry began to laugh.
“No wonder they are shouting and cursing there. I swam to the boat that time I left you and cut the wires on the engine; and to be sure, I took out the spark plugs, and have them in my pocket. It will be some time before they get that boat into condition to chase us!”
“Good boy,” said Art admiringly.
The return across the lake was without eventful occurrence, however, for with them was the hermit.
Garry greeted him warmly. “What news?” he asked.
“I fear I am the bearer of bad news,” said the hermit.
“Your father has come to the camp and been caught, so I judge from what I heard said by two men a while ago as I lay close to the road that leads here. Also many of the lumberjacks are kept captive in one of the shacks, and a heavy guard has been set over them. I think we had better go for help; we can’t battle them alone, our numbers are too few.”
Garry was for going at once to the rescue of his father, but the others restrained him.
“We can’t do anything there, and we can be of great help on the outside. There is a sheriff in town, and we can get word to him, and have him round up a posse sufficiently large to capture the whole outfit,” advised Art.
Reluctantly Garry agreed that this was the wisest thing to do.