He sang to himself as he left the Potomac and, with the search-light on, swung over to the road which he had followed earlier in the day.
When he had reached a spot about half a mile from the hill where Hike was imprisoned, Poodle suddenly switched off all lights, shot the Hustle up to three thousand feet, snapped off the motor, and made a long glide toward the top of the hill. For the first time, he wished that cool Hike were at the levers, instead of him. It was a terrific strain. Silent as a night-flying owl, yet with a swift drop, the Hustle shot down toward the top of the hill. The many planes creaked quietly. Then they circled, and landed in the fields just beyond the marshes at the bottom of the hill, all so quietly that none of the guards could have heard them.
They climbed out, and filed through the marshes. The General, who had so cheerfully acted as merely a passenger while on the Hustle, took charge, and with quick, sharp, whispered orders led them through the mud and brush to the foot of the hill.
“Adeler, you and the soldiers stay here. Darby and I will climb up and try to get on the roof of the cabin. Thatched—we can hear through it. When I light a match up there, you charge up and get into the fight. We’ll capture Captain Welch, if I find that he’s guilty of plotting with Jolls. We’ll have to let the others go—we have no civil warrant for them. But we can damage them a little, and set the police on them directly. Come on, Darby—you’ll have to lead up, you know the lay of the land.”
The General had been used to an easy life, these last few years, but it kept Poodle hurrying, crawling on his stomach up through the grass and shrubs, to keep ahead of him. Once, when their heads were near each other, he could make out that the General’s jaws were set like iron.
They stole up to the cabin, and heard the five guards lazily talking near the door, in front.
“Give me a leg up,” hissed the General, and climbed the low back wall, clutching at the thatch of the roof, and dragging himself up. He thrust down a hand to Poodle and pulled him after; then the two of them lay flat as shingles on the roof, for a guard was just meandering about the cabin, humming.
The General was still panting from his exertions; and he whispered to Poodle, “Well, young man, what do you think of a man of my age and rank crawling up cabins that don’t even belong to me, as though I were a boy shinning up a tree for apples!” But he didn’t seem very angry, as he patted Poodle on the shoulder.
With slightly raised head, Poodle leaned on his elbows, digging down into the rotten old thatch. He had to lift out all the straw, lest it fall through and give them away to any one beneath. But in a few moments he had a sizable hole, through which they could listen to anything that went on within the cabin.
It was time they were listening!