They had indeed worked fast when Stan gave the signal as Butch slept late that afternoon, tying his arms swiftly with rope and gagging him with a knotted handkerchief. Butch’s circulation might be sluggish in the wrists for a while, so tight were the cords, but at least he wouldn’t be getting free of his bonds!
“Whoops!” came Stan’s joyous half-yell. “Here’s my bow and yours! And our arrows!”
They recovered their weapons, drew deeper into the shrubbery and considered their next move. By now the air was tingling with gunfire and the shouts of men.
“Apparently so far Hegarty’s men are attacking from the west end of the island, John,” Stan said; “but it’s pretty certain he’ll get his boats into the cove shortly and so strike at the heart of Nevada’s fortress!”
“Blazing torches of light!” cried John. “Let’s not stay here gabbing. What can we do to help?”
Stan grinned at the impetuous John.
It was fairly dark now and Stan was glad of the small pocket flashlight he had. The boys could best help by finding Holmes and his men and asking for orders.
“We’ll find Holmes and get our orders!” he said. “Let’s go!”
Since Holmes’ boat and one or more men were likely to be in the cove where the Staghound now lay at anchor, the boys slid along through the bushes, cutting swiftly across paths, avoiding known machine gun nests and tunnel entrances, and so maneuvering for the dash down the path to that cove. It took some time and the darkness was alive with the noise of the fight! But they made it safely and soon reached the shores of the cove. There they found their rowboat where it had been hidden, and hurried out to the sloop. Some one challenged them as they drew up to the sloop.
It proved to be a G-Man left aboard the sloop to help protect it from intrusion by snoopers from the island.