“I never heard of such confounded luck in all my life!” he yelled. “Are there any men in that house? Quick—tell me!”
“Not a single one,” answered Tom. “We scared Hank Styles away.”
“We might have known it!” exclaimed Ashe, violently. “This is the second time you’ve bungled things and allowed the men to escape us.”
“Aye, aye!” said Witmar. “We’ll never get ’em as long as these chaps remain in Canada.” And, to Billy Ashe’s intense anger and disgust, he burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Several of the others joined in.
This wave of mirth immediately communicated itself to the lads.
Billy Ashe’s disappointment, however, was too great to permit him to see any humor in the situation. An all-night’s vigil, which every one had confidently predicted would be the means of their rounding up the entire band, had only resulted in bringing them once more face to face with this crowd of boys from the States. It was too exasperating to overlook.
“You fellows are under arrest!” he exclaimed, harshly. “Step right back into that house!”
“Must we hold up our hands?” asked Tom.
“No back talk now. You have interfered with officers of His Majesty’s service. That’s no joking matter.”
“Don’t try to resist, boys,” exclaimed Witmar, grinning broadly, “or we’ll cover you again.”