As for the young reporter, he wanted to telephone word in to his paper about the big story in prospect, but he reflected that using the wire might somehow allow the story to get out before he was ready, and his “scoop” might be spoiled.
“I’ll just wait,” he decided. “Besides, there might be some slip-up. This may not be the Androletti boy, but some other poor chap who has been kidnapped, though I haven’t heard of any other lad being taken away lately.”
“Wa’al, now that we’re ready, we may as well start,” suggested Mr. Meldron, when his brother-in-law, the constable, had looked over his force. “No use waitin’ too long, or them scoundrels may give us the slip yet.”
It was agreed that the sooner the raid was made the better it would be, and the posse started off. They planned to approach the old house from several points, so as to surround it as nearly as possible.
“There’s ten of us,” remarked Mr. Meldron, who kept close to Larry, “an’ I guess them tramps will have a hard job breakin’ through our lines. If any of ’em try to get past you, boys, swat ’em!”
“We will!” came the grim chorus.
It was decided to move up swiftly, once each man was in his appointed place, and, as the country around the place was well wooded, except on the side where Larry and Mr. Meldron had watched the deserted house, it was thought there would be little chance of discovery until it was too late for the tramps to escape.
Larry and Mr. Meldron were to approach through the bean patch, but by crouching down, and taking advantage of the cover of underbrush, and bushes, they could come up very close without being seen.
“Forward, march!” exclaimed Bob Nestor, and the raid was under way. There was not a little nervous apprehension, on the part of everyone, and Larry found himself wondering what would happen, and whether he could rescue the captive lad.