“Yer jolly right,” exclaimed Jarvis, “and ’ere’s ’ate to the bloomin’ ’eathen!”
So, strengthened by two good men, the party moved cautiously forward until they were only one block from their destination.
“Split up into two sections,” commanded Johnny in a whisper. “One party under Dave go up street beyond the place, the other under Jarvis stay down street. Pant and I will drop back into the garden and try to establish connection with the prisoner. We’ll get the general lay of things and report. If a shot is fired, that will be a signal to rush the place.”
They were away. Creeping stealthily forward, they entered the gate to the garden. Then, skulking along the wall, they made their way toward the shed where they had spent part of the previous night. Twice the hollow things in Pant’s sack rattled ominously.
“Keep that thing quiet, can’t you?” snapped Johnny. “What y’ got it for, anyway?”
“Show you in a minute,” whispered Pant.
So they crept on toward the goal. No lights shone from these back windows. The place was dark as a tomb. Somewhere in the distance a clock slowly chimed the hour. A shiver ran over Johnny’s body. Things would happen soon.
“All I ask is five minutes; five minutes, that’s all,” whispered Pant, as he lowered his sack cautiously to the ground and unlaced its top.
Dimly through the darkness Johnny could see him draw several long objects from the bag. When the bag was empty, he began setting these objects end to end. Evidently they were fitted with sockets, for, once they were joined together, they stuck in place. He soon had them all together. Johnny surmised that this was the reconstructed bamboo pole with all obstructing joints taken out; but what Pant meant to do with it, he could not even guess. He watched with impatient curiosity.
“A speaking tube,” he whispered at last. “It’s a good idea.”