“I’m going in right here and we’ll crawl up there,” Frank suggested, looking at the chief, who nodded his approval of the scheme.
In a few minutes they touched at the bank, running slowly with the motor cut off, the three boys poling with the oar and pulling along by grabbing at bushes and trees until the Rocket touched at a firm spot.
All crawled off the craft and made their way up to the bank through the bushes. They were about a hundred yards below the flicker of light which they could see moving toward the bank.
“I’ll take the lead,” said the chief. “You boys be ready with your guns and we’ll catch these fellows.” He was issuing instructions to his policemen.
Slowly, stealthily, in Indian file, they made their way along the river’s bank, now and then catching a glimpse of the yellow lantern-light.
Not a word was spoken by any of them, though the boys behind the police were breathless in their excitement. Frank wanted to see more of what was going on, but he had to sacrifice his desire to the general scheme of keeping quiet and unseen as well. The darkness of the night was an ally of the robbers.
Now they were close enough to hear angry words passing between men, but not plainly enough to give them an understanding.
A few paces more and they were fairly upon the group of four men—three of them together, while a fourth one held a lantern and led the way. They were on the path which the boys had followed before, the one leading from the river bank to the barn.
Stealthily, like cats, lifting their feet slowly, without causing the slightest noise of a bush or twig, the entire party moved along with their chief still leading, never having stopped his advance upon these men.
Now they were within a few yards of the spot where they would cross at right angles the path leading to Marmette’s barn. And the little group from Jed Marmette’s was at the crossing!