Furiously Rob shook the door.
"It's locked," came the voice from inside, "I tried to break it down. Too weak, I guess. Try the shutters."
At each window in turn the Boy Scouts sought to effect an entrance, but in vain. The owner of the place had screwed up the window coverings too tightly for them to be opened without tools.
The rescue party came to a momentary halt.
"I've got it," shouted the captain suddenly, "we'll have him out uv there in two shakes uv a drake's tail."
He produced his formidable old pistol and waved it grimly.
"Come on, boys," he yelled, darting round to the front of the house—the side on which the door was.
"What are you going to do?" demanded Rob, as much mystified as the rest at the old eccentric actions.
"Watch me," grinned the captain as he gained the door.
"Stand clear!" he bawled at the top of his lungs, "stand clear uv the door inside there, Joe!"