“We’ll get ’em if they’re on Cedar Island!” the constable declared. “Got your guns, boys?” he asked the members of his posse.
Each one had, it seemed, and the nervous tension grew as the island was neared. Hank drove the Bluebird at her best speed, which, of course, was not saying much, for she was not a fast craft. But gradually the objective point came into view.
“It’s just as well not to have too fast a boat,” the constable said. “If the Klondikers saw it coming they might jump in the lake and swim away. They won’t be so suspicious of this.”
“Perhaps not,” the lawyer assented. But he could not help thinking how tragic it would be if it should happen that Neale’s father was among those captured. Neale himself guided the houseboat on her way.
“Put her around into that cove,” Constable Newcomb directed the youth at the wheel, when the island was reached.
Silently the Bluebird floated into a little natural harbor and was made fast to the bank.
“All ashore now, and don’t make any noise,” ordered the officer. “They haven’t spotted us yet, I guess. We may surround ’em and capture ’em without any trouble.”
“Let us hope so,” said Mr. Howbridge. “Have they some sort of house or headquarters?”
“They live in a shack or two,” the constable replied. “It’s in the middle of the island. I’d better lead the way,” he went on, and he placed himself at the head of his men.
“Don’t make any outcry or any explanation if your father is among these men,” said Mr. Howbridge to Neale, as the two walked on behind the posse. This was the first direct reference to the matter the lawyer had made.