“Don’t let ’em keep you here all night, Dad!” cried Nappy.
“Make ’em come to terms quick,” said Slugger. “They have no right to hold back on you.”
“You leave this business to us—we know what we are doing,” answered Mr. Brown.
Of course, those who had come to the place from the two camps had not shown themselves. All were secreted behind the trees and bushes on the opposite side of the cabin. Now they watched intently while Mr. Brown and Mr. Martell entered the cabin, and as they did this they noted a steady put-put on the forest road, and soon a motorcycle came into sight, ridden by a middle-aged man carrying a satchel over his shoulder.
“That must be the fellow who went to the bank to get the money,” whispered Andy.
The Secret Service men had arranged their plans with care. At a given signal four of the soldiers from Camp Huxwell surrounded the automobile occupied by Slugger and Nappy, who as before were making themselves comfortable in the tonneau and smoking cigarettes. To say that those two unworthies were surprised, would be putting it mildly. Slugger leaped to his feet in amazement, while Nappy set up a howl of terror, begging the soldiers not to shoot them.
“We haven’t done anything wrong!” howled Nappy. “Please don’t point that gun at me!”
“I don’t understand this,” said Slugger nervously. “There must be some mistake.”
“The only mistake is the one you made, young man,” declared one of the soldiers briefly.
In the meantime there was an interesting scene going on in the main room of the cabin. The German in charge of the place and the fellow who had come in on the motorcycle were talking earnestly to Slogwell Brown and Nelson Martell. The men from New York had a number of documents on a table, and were trying to prove that the Germans owed them over eleven thousand dollars, while the Germans were equally emphatic in declaring that the amount due was less than ten thousand dollars.