“Bill, I’ve got a hunch we are going at this thing a little too fast,” said Gus.
“How too fast? We can’t delay at all, can we?”
“But suppose, when the police make their raid, these Malatestas get desperate and mad enough to kill Tony? They’re a bad lot. I’ve a notion we ought to get Tony out of there before——”
“The iron gets too hot, eh? I guess you are right, Gus.”
“Look, Bill, here’s a scheme. What if we work it this way?” Gus proceeded to outline a plan with every detail of which Bill agreed; and it called for action.
Taking the revolver and some extra cartridges, Bill hobbled along by Gus, who gave him a lift, now and then, piggy-back. The boys made their way south for more than a mile along the thoroughfare swamp edge. Then they turned sharply on a path across the wooded peninsula to the beach, and went another half mile among the dunes. A very tall pine tree against the sky-line gave Gus his bearings. A little below that they stopped, and Bill found a comfortable hiding-place among scrub pines, with the boom of the breakers in his ears and the sea breeze keeping off the mosquitoes.
Gus cast about silently for the path that led in to the kidnapers’ cabin. Finding it with some difficulty in the darkness, he noted certain landmarks and went back to Bill. Agreeing on signals in whispers, Gus went back to the path and struck a match, whereupon Bill fired a shot, and immediately afterward, another. Then Gus swiftly made his way directly toward the cabin, and when near it, called softly:
“Hello, hello, you fellers! It’s me, Sam.”
There was a very profound silence for a few minutes. Gus called again:
“Hello! It’s me, Sam. Don’t shoot!”