Radio Boys in the Flying Service; or, Held For Ransom by Mexican Bandits

by J. W. Duffield

There was a huge boulder just at the very outermost edge of the fire’s glare and Phil knew that if he could reach the cover of it he would be close enough to overhear the fellows’ conversation without running any risk of being observed.

But how to reach this coveted spot without being seen? This was indeed a problem for the trees were rather sparsely grouped at this point and he would be obliged to come almost into the open before he could reach the shelter of the rock. And still—the eerie sensation of that invisible enemy crouching at his elbow!

Only for a moment did Phil hesitate. Then, crouched almost double, he sprang across the cleared space and reached the safety of the boulder. So silent and quick was his action that the men grouped about the fire did not pause for a moment in their talk, did not even glance in his direction. Evidently they had no suspicion that they were being watched.

For a full moment Phil did not dare alter the cramped position in which he had landed behind the rock. Holding his breath, straining his ears to catch the first sound that might denote suspicion, he crouched there, every sense on the alert.

After awhile he began to distinguish something of what they were saying. And after his conviction that they were not aware of his presence had become a certainty, he finally shifted his position ever so slightly, so that he might peer around the edge of the rock.

What he saw caused him to start involuntarily—his foot, dislodging a small stone, sent it clattering noisily, for the man whose sullen, dissipated face first came within the range of his vision was “Rocks” Gurney. There could be no mistake about it—it was no other than the rascal himself.

Phil’s start of surprise almost proved his undoing. For at the sharp rattling of the dislodged stone several of the men about the fire jumped suspiciously to their feet.

“There’s someone listening in on this,” said Rocks Gurney, gruffly. “Better take a little look about, friends.”

Following his suggestion, they took a look about, while Phil crouched breathlessly in the shadow of his boulder and prayed that they might not detect him. As a matter of fact they did not, for Phil’s shadow fitted so closely into that of the rock that they overlooked him entirely.

After thrashing about among the bushes for awhile, one of them coming so close to Phil as almost to touch him, they straggled back to the fire again and resumed their conversation.