It was moonlight, and almost midnight, before Tubby deemed it safe to reconnoitre the vicinity of the cave mouth. Followed by Jumbo, who was quaking with fear, but accompanied the stout youth in preference to being left alone, Tubby cautiously made his way through the undergrowth. A spot of bright light above showed him the location of the camp fire of Hunt’s gang. It was hardly likely that they would be patroling the entrance to the cave, effectually blocked as it was. But Tubby took no chances. With the skill and silence of an Indian he wormed his way along.
He had almost reached the open space where they had chopped down the brush when, without an instant’s warning, the figure of Stonington Hunt strode into view.
At the same unlucky instant Jumbo, lumbering along quite silently, stubbed his toe against an out-cropping rock. He fell headlong with a crash.
“Gollygumptions! I’m killed dead!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, utterly regardless of consequences.
Tubby turned and was about to dodge back into the shelter of the dense growth when Hunt espied him. With an angry oath he sprang at him, pointing a pistol. But Tubby, in a flash, changed his tactics surprisingly. Converting himself into a human battering ram, he lowered his head and rushed full tilt at Hunt.
Completely taken by surprise by Tubby’s onslaught, Hunt stopped and hesitated. The fat boy, at the same instant, rushed between the man’s legs, seizing them in a firm grip as he did so. The unexpected assault resulted in hurling Hunt violently forward. He fell sprawling in a heap. At the same instant his pistol was discharged in the air.
As the report rang out from close at hand half a dozen figures sprang into being. They were those of his followers who had been behind him at some distance on this nocturnal visit of inspection.
Dale and Bumpus instantly recognized Tubby.
“That’s the fat kid who wrecked our sloop!” cried Dale.
“A hundred dollars to the one that gets him!” shouted Hunt from the ground where he still lay.