“King, guide us around so that we can avoid the camp, but get to the road that leads to town. We’ll get a posse and give them a battle,” directed Garry.
Without a word, King led the way, and the others followed.
In the meantime, Mr. Boone and Dick had been led from the storehouse and taken to the bunkhouse, where the rest of the prisoners were.
There were shouts of welcome when some of the old woodsmen saw Mr. Boone. Although he was the owner of the timber tract, and their employer, they hailed him as “Moose” and shook his hand energetically.
“By gosh. I’m ashamed to look you in the face, Moose,” cried one of the lumberjacks. “To think we let a bunch like that crowd outside there put it over on us; men that have fought with rifle and peavy stick when some crowd tried to steal the river from us. Gosh, if we had a few axes and peavy sticks now we could get out there and make that bunch look sick, but all have rifles and revolvers. Barrows must’ve had a regular armory with him.”
They were still talking and trying without success to puzzle a way out of their predicament, when Dick gave a shout of joy.
“There’s my knapsack. That lets me see light right now!”
The men looked at him in astonishment. How a mere knapsack could help them was not to be understood.
“That was chucked in here by one of the men yesterday, before we were captured. He saw it in the shack, and remembering it belonged to one of you, took it for safe keeping. It was Tom there, who brought it.”