CHAPTER XIII.
WELL WORTH WHILE.
“Get around to the door, everybody; they’re trying to escape!” shouted Hugh, as he whirled away from the window that had been engaging his attention.
Ralph was alongside as he turned the corner of the old smithy. The other scouts had hardly known what to do, although several of the most active seemed to be in motion, headed for the exit of the old house. These were Alec and Bud and big Tom Sherwood, and the trio presented quite a formidable phalanx. They turned the corner just in time to cut off the flight of the last of the abductors, who had tripped and fallen inside the room, thus delaying his departure for a few seconds.
The other pair could be heard pounding off in rapid order, thoroughly frightened, for they had heard the cries that were coming from the boys, and of course imagined that the sheriff’s posse had arrived on their heels.
There was enough light escaping from the open door for the third rascal to get a glimpse of khaki uniforms on the flitting figures that formed a cordon across his path. No doubt he believed on the spur of the moment that the militia must have been sent to the scene of the late riot to keep the peace, and that one of their first efforts had been to run himself and his fellow kidnappers down.
The boys assailed him without hesitation. As scouts they had long ago learned the great value of assuming the offensive, if it ever became necessary to do any fighting, which is not often supposed to be the case.
When Hugh and Ralph and the rest of the troop came hurrying around the corner they saw a struggling mass which no one could fully make out in the darkness.
“Throw your light on them, Ralph!” ordered the scout master instantly.
As soon as this was done they could see that their three comrades were hanging on desperately to the man, who seemed to be doing everything in his power to hurl them aside, though without avail.
Alec had seized hold of one arm, while Bud hung to the other, and Tom Sherwood managed to get his arms twined around the fellow’s thick neck, so that he was beginning to exercise quite some pressure. At least the man looked fiery red, as if his breathing had become difficult.