The Golden Boys at the Haunted Camp

by L. P. Wyman

Waiting a few minutes longer to make sure that the two half-breeds had really gone, he started off again feeling much rested and greatly encouraged. Still he in no way relaxed his vigilance, feeling certain that the man, who was doubtless the boss of the party, was too sharp to be caught napping if he could help it.

“I don’t know whether or not he has any idea that I’m on his trail, but it’s always best not to take unnecessary chances,” he soliloquized as he crept slowly upward.

In about ten minutes after he had made his fresh start the shack came into sight only a few yards ahead. The path, after turning around a huge rock ran, not into the small clearing in front of the building, but a little to the right. He might easily have missed it altogether and gone on past had he been less careful to miss nothing. In another minute he was lying at full length on the ground behind a thick bush just on the edge of the clearing. From his position he had a good view of the shack and was certain that there was little danger of being seen by the man who he supposed was on guard inside.

As he lay there, watching the door which was open about a foot, his mind was busy with the problem of how he should go about the task which he felt must not be long delayed. The two half-breeds might return at any time and with the three of them there the releasing of his brother would be well nigh impossible. On the other hand the man on guard was doubtless armed with a revolver and probably would not hesitate to use it and a false move on his part would prove disastrous. It was a hard nut to crack and he was still turning the matter over in his mind when the door was suddenly pushed farther open and the slim man stepped outside.

He paused just outside the door and glanced about him. Once his eyes stopped seemingly focused directly on the boy and his heart skipped a beat as he thought he had spied him. But his glance soon turned away and, after seeming to listen for a moment, the man turned and re-entered the shack, closing the door behind him.

“I’d give a good bit to know whether or not he saw me,” Bob thought. After watching a few minutes longer he decided to act. There was a single small window in the front of the shack about three feet to the right of the door and he crept around until he was facing the corner away from it. About twenty feet separated him from the shack and, darting across the intervening space, he crouched close to the building. Had he been seen? If he had the odds, he well knew, would be all with the other man. But, as the minutes passed and nothing developed, he began to breath more freely. He noiselessly edged over until he stood only a couple of feet from the door.

From time to time he could hear the man moving about inside and once he heard him approach the door and even lay his hand on the latch but he evidently changed his mind for some unknown reason and did not open it. It seemed to Bob that never had time passed so slowly. He was in a fever of fear lest the two men should return and find him there. Then the fat would be in the fire for sure, he thought.

He had been standing there close to the door for nearly twenty minutes when he again heard steps approaching the door and in another minute it opened and the man stepped out. Bob was facing the opening and did not hesitate an instant. With a lunge, which he had learned through long practice on the foot-ball field, he threw himself forward and tackled him just below the knees. The surprise was complete and, with a startled cry, the man bowled over with Bob on top of him. But, if he was taken by surprise, he was far from being helpless. Squirming from beneath with the agility of the trained wrestler he almost instantly had their positions reversed and was striving for a strangle hold on Bob’s throat. But Bob foiled the attempt and for a time they rolled over and over now one on top and then the other.

Bob had been well trained in the science of wrestling but he quickly realized that, although his antagonist was slight of build, he had muscles of steel and furthermore was acquainted with the various holds. One after another he tried them only to find himself baffled. However one thing gave him hope. The man was breathing more and more heavily and he knew that he could not be in first-class physical condition. Feeling certain of this he began to conserve his strength exerting himself only enough to prevent his antagonist from obtaining a decisive hold.

Soon he could hear the man’s breath coming in gasps and he judged it was time to again take the offensive. As if realizing the change in the boy’s attitude and knowing that he was nearly winded, the man managed to break a half-Nelson which Bob had secured and sprang to his feet. Bob did the same and for an instant they stood facing each other.