"Yes, they're here to help rescue you. Tumble over there, some of you," directed Mr. Hammond to his men, "and let Tom out. Break in the door!"
"I say now!" began the leader of the campers, "that won't do——"
"That's enough from you," warned Mr. Hammond sternly. "Smash in that door, men!"
A little later Tom Osborne, rather forlorn and miserable from his night's imprisonment in a tumble-down shack, walked out, his bonds having been cut.
"Now for your friend, Harry," said Mr. Hammond to The Loon. "We must get him out next."
"There's some young fellow in the shack next to where I was," said Tom Osborne. "I heard him talking to himself early in the evening, but not since daylight. I guess he's the one you mean."
A rush was made for the wretched place, and the door was burst in, but the hut was empty.
"He's gone!" cried The Loon. "They've taken him to some other place. Oh, I'll never be able to keep my word to him!"
"We'll find him," declared Mr. Hammond. "I don't know who he was, but we'll get him. Look in every shack, men!"
In turn every cabin was inspected. Many wretched young men, and some old ones, too, were routed out, but the proprietors of the camp seemed to have a right to their services, either by contract, or through the action of the criminal laws. Sad indeed was their plight, but the rescuers had no legal right to take them away.