Scarcely five minutes after they left the hut and the two burning shanties behind them, Hugh's friends burst into the empty cabin—-too late to rescue him.
But these young, well-trained scouts lost no time in searching the place. Separating into pairs—-Norton and Mark, Alec and Chester, with Billy and Dave in advance, following Durgan's and Mole's trail—-they formed a line of communication between the cabin and the site of the bonfire, hoping that by thus keeping a picket line they might catch sight of Hugh or his captors beating a hasty retreat toward the shore.
Meanwhile, Durgan and Mole with Hugh between them walked very fast indeed. Had they not supported Hugh, he should have fallen several times; for, young and strong as he was, he was almost worn out with the rough treatment he had undergone. Every minute he thought they would stop, and, making an end of their senseless threats, release him and run. But they evidently had no intention of doing so.
Hugh tried to ascertain in what direction they were leading him, but he soon gave this up as useless. He was on the verge of despair, when suddenly out of the gloom came a startlingly familiar call—-the call of the Wolf patrol.
"Wow-ow-ooo-oooo-hoo-Hugh!"
It sounded not far away, on his left, and the lad's heart bounded with joy. He knew that that call could come from none other than Billy Worth, and Billy must therefore be near at hand, ready to lead his comrades to Hugh's rescue.
For one wild moment he was tempted to answer the call—-then discretion prevailed, and he kept silence.
Naturally, the two men also were startled at the sound. Mole gave Hugh a prod in the shoulder with the point of a knife and Durgan swore volubly.
"None o' that thar, Harry!" he warned. "Don't hurt the kid. If you do, we'll——-"
"Aw, shut up!" retorted the other, and they hurried on.