Johnny took a long breath. All that suspense, and the kidnapers still some distance away! He felt very much like an empty sack. But he must carry on. Shaking himself, he set his teeth hard. “All right, I’m ready.”
Once again they plunged into the night. Now they were five men and two boats.
And all the while the mysterious flashlight was making its way along the shore, coming from the opposite direction toward Baley’s cabin which might, Johnny believed, be the scene of a bloody battle within the hour.
This time, after a careful study of the situation, Drew decided that the journey should be made entirely by water. The island was narrow, the boy moose hunter explained. A dock virtually formed a door step to the cabin. One had but to reach that dock, and he was at the cabin.
“You fellows lead the way,” Drew commanded. “Not too fast. Watch your oars. Not a creak from them. Keep your oarlocks damp. And don’t talk! Not a whisper! If these men get the drop on you, whang! You’re gone!”
“Ya. We do,” the older of the men agreed hastily. Johnny noticed that his knees were shaking.
“Good shock troops,” was his mental comment. “No good for a real scrap.”
A half hour of breathless suspense, and they were gliding along the island’s short shore line, nearing the dock.
“Now!” Drew had driven their boat alongside the others. “You fellows fall back. We’ll take the lead. Wherever we go, you follow close!”
They caught this whispered command, fell back, then followed on.