The persons composing it consisted of Luther Barr and the men to whom Billy had referred as composing “his gang,” namely, Hank Higgins, Noggy Wilkes, Fred Reade, the red-bearded aviator, and Slade. As the auto rolled up behind them so silently that none of them apparently knew of its approach, Barr was grinning triumphantly at Frank and Harry Chester, whose aeroplane stood at one side of the clearing.
“I thought we’d lure you down here by displaying a flag,” he sneered. “I suppose you thought it was your own party. Well, now, you have found out your mistake.”
“Our friends will soon be here in reply to our message,” said Frank, “and they will not allow you to harm us.”
“Oh, I suppose you think they could answer that wireless message of yours,” sneered old Barr. “Well, they couldn’t, because we’d fixed it so that they couldn’t. Do you think I’d have let you send out a message if I thought they could have got here? I just fooled you for fun.”
“What have you done with them?” demanded Frank.
“Oh, only taken a few planks out of the bridge across the canyon so that they couldn’t get across. We hold the cards now, so you might as well tell us where Bart Witherbee intends to claim his mine. If you won’t, we shall see that you are put somewhere where you will get over your stubbornness.”
“Oh, you will, will you?” exclaimed Bart Witherbee, suddenly stepping forward. “Not yet, Mr. Barr, and now I think as we have the drop on you, you and your friends had better vamoose—git out—run along—fade away.”
“What are you doing here,” stammered Reade, turning round and seeing the boys in their auto, “I thought——”
“Yes,” cried Billy, “you thought you’d fixed the bridge so as we couldn’t get across—well, you hadn’t; so now get along and be on your way before we summon law officers and have you placed under arrest.”
“Come on, let’s get out,” said Hank Higgins sullenly, “the kids certainly seem to have it on us this time.”