“Ha! An excellent idea to keep Orhsimi, the Japanese sleeping powder, in my handkerchief; see, honorable Dugan, our young enemy is disposed of.”
Stooping by Rob’s recumbent form, the Jap picked up the pistol and placed it in his pocket.
“Hark!” exclaimed Dugan, suddenly.
A strange sound was in the air. It was the patter-patter of dozens of young feet. The Boy Scouts, roused by the startling summons of their leader, were coming to the rescue.
“We’ve got to get out of this, and get out of it quick,” exclaimed Dugan, excitedly; “we’ll have a whole hornet’s nest about our ears if we don’t.”
“You’ve got the box with the plans in it?”
“Yes, but the smoke was so confounded thick that I could hardly see to get it.”
The last two speeches we have recorded were exchanged while the two rascals were diving down a side street where their automobile was concealed. As the Boy Scouts came pouring round the corner, to be met by a cloud of acrid smoke rolling from the open bank door, there was a sharp “chug-chug!” as the former soldier and the treacherous Jap made off with their spoil.
“What’s the matter? What is it? Who blew the alarm?”
These and a thousand other questions came from the anxious boys as they ran about trying to discover what had happened, and what was the matter. A cry from Merritt summoned them down the street past the bank. The corporal had stumbled over Rob’s unconscious form.