“He is not—and that’s another thing that gets my goat. While his father flies on without a word—Sanders gets the boy!” Bill went on to tell Osceola of the day’s happenings. “You see,” he concluded, “I’m between two fires. It’s the dickens of a mess. If I go to Stamford, and pretend to play in with that gang, I can’t be watching them up here—and if I don’t go there’s no telling what Sanders may do with that kid. My plan before you came along was to meet Ezra Parker at the Harbor, and see what his advice would be.”
“Good idea,” said Osceola thoughtfully. He had been squatting on his heels, Indian fashion, and now stood up. “Hello!” he cried. “There goes that telephone again. I guess Deb got tired of waiting.”
“How did she know you were here? It was that bell jingling that brought me down here.”
“I called her up when I got in the cellar. Jim answered and said she was out on the rocks—so she called me back.” He hurried off to the other end of the cellar with Bill close behind him holding the light.
Osceola fumbled with a brick in the wall, it came away in his hands and he pushed his arm into the cavity. A panel in the wall swung outward, revealing the fact that it was not brick at all, but cleverly painted wood. The ringing of the bell immediately became louder, for in the open niche stood a telephone.
The chief picked up the receiver. “Hello, hello—” Bill heard him say. “Yes, this is Osceola. Yes, Deb, I’m all right. Bill is here. We mistook each other for Sanders’ men in the dark—that’s why I rang off. But everything is okay now. No, I don’t mean exactly that ... Sanders has kidnapped Charlie and.... What are you saying? Great guns—is that so? Yes, I can hear firing. Hang on as long as you can—don’t give up—we’ll be with you just as soon as possible!”
He hung up, slammed shut the camouflaged panel and turned to Bill.
“The devil to pay! Deb and old Jim are barricaded in the hut on Pig Island. Sanders’ men have got the place surrounded!”
Chapter XII
ON THE WAY
“We’re a pretty pair of fools!” cried Bill.