Well armed, but fortunately not being obliged to use their weapons, the men from the orange grove made such a show of strength that resistance seemed out of the question.
The camp, as the girls saw afterward, was merely a collection of miserable huts. Some were better than others, and it was to these that the rescuers turned their attention, for in them were the "bosses" of the camp.
Mr. Hammond and his men made a rush for these, and, surrounding them, called on those within to surrender. At first there was sleepy-eyed surprise as the rough men ran out. Some showed a disposition to fight, but Mr. Hammond coolly said:
"It's of no use, men. We've got you just where we want you, and we're enough in numbers to take you all prisoners. We only want a couple of young fellows you have here."
"We've a right to all the help we have!" growled the leader of the campers: "We've got the papers to show it, too!"
"I don't doubt but what you've got papers—forged ones, though," replied Mr. Hammond sternly. "We won't dispute that. But you haven't any papers for my man, Tom Osborne."
"Tom Osborne—your man—was he the one that——"
The leader began thus, but he did not finish. He saw the damaging admission he was about to make.
"Yes, Tom Osborne!" exclaimed Mr. Hammond. "I say Tom, where are you?" he called, loudly.
"Here, Mr. Hammond!" was a shout from a distant shack. "Are the young ladies all right?"