Dugan, the treacherous private, paused, and, from his immense height, looked down into the faces of Jack Curtiss and Freeman Hunt.
“As sure as we stand here,” Jack assured him, “I’ve told you how we came to overhear what was said. If you want those plans, now is your chance to get them.”
“And don’t forget to beat Rob Blake up good and proper,” chimed in Hunt, who had lost all prudence in his eagerness to have his grudge avenged.
“You bet I won’t,” Dugan grunted. “I guess if he’s the sort of boy you describe him to be, he won’t give them up without a struggle.”
“You could break him in two with one hand tied behind your back,” struck in Jack, gazing at the immense frame and loosely hung, ape-like arms of Dugan.
“Leave that to me, kid,” Dugan assured him, with an ominous grin, “and—hullo, here comes Hashashi now. That’s lucky. I may need him if there are three of them.”
Turning in the direction in which the soldier had spied the newcomer, the lads saw a small, slightly-built figure approaching them. It was the Japanese with whom Dugan had been seen conversing in the hut when the unsuspected listeners had overheard.
“Guess we’ll be going,” said Jack Curtiss uneasily.
“Hold on!” exclaimed Dugan, clutching him with a grip of iron, as he spoke. “You’ve got to promise me that you don’t tell nothing of this.”
“Of course,” Jack assured him; “we’ve promised you once.”