“He gone, an’ no one ever see him more,” exclaimed Teddy Banes, abruptly.
“Gone!—gone from the post?” gasped Tom Clifton. “What in thunder do you mean? Why, we got a letter from Jed just a short time ago telling us what a dandy time we could have out here!”
“Perhaps Sergeant Erskine will be willing to explain,” interposed Dave Brandon, who, with his eyes half shut, was leaning in a most comfortable position against the wall.
“Not the least objection, I’m sure,” answered Erskine, drawing a chair up before the group and seating himself. “You see, quite recently a slick band of smugglers has begun operations in this part of the country, and though we’ve been pretty hot on their trail at times, somehow they’ve always managed to elude us. Banes knows all about it, don’t you, Banes?”
“Eh—what you mean?” demanded Banes, coming a step forward, his morose, bronzed face turned full upon his questioner.
“What I say,” laughed Erskine. “I guess you’ll get mixed up in a tussle with them yet, Banes. But I can see by your faces, boys, that you’re in suspense. So here’s the story.”
“Please do let us have it fast,” said Tom.
“I will, son. Jed Warren was sent off on a special assignment to trace up several clues which we felt certain would finally land the smugglers in our net.”
“Well?” queried Tom.
“He had strict orders to report on a certain date. And that date was passed more than a week ago.”