<h2 id="c12"><span class="sc">Chapter XII</span> <br/><span class="small">ON THE WAY</span></h2>
<p>“We’re a pretty pair of fools!” cried Bill.</p>
<p>“I agree with you.” Osceola, usually
stoical under trying conditions, was visibly
upset. “While we’re scrapping and swapping
stories, that girl of mine is being kidnapped
by those ruffians!”</p>
<p>“But they haven’t got into the house yet,”
Bill reminded him.</p>
<p>“But what can those two do against so
many! After what Sanders said to you, we
should have been prepared for this. For the
love of Mike, Bill, hold that light steady!
I can’t find the brick that manipulates the
panel to the woodshed tunnel.—There—that’s
better!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_168">168</div>
<p>A section of the cellar wall opened and the
light from the torch shone on a flight of stone
steps leading into the earth.</p>
<p>“Wait a jiffy, till I pick up my rifle—”
The young Seminole disappeared, then returned
with the gun in his hands. “Lucky
I decided to tackle you with my fists rather
than shoot in the dark! Got everything you
need?”</p>
<p>“Yep.”</p>
<p>“Then turn the light on the wall to your
left—third brick from the bottom—there!”</p>
<p>He pulled it out, fumbled in the aperture
for a moment and the cellar door slid shut.</p>
<p>“Gosh, it’s dark—” Bill went down the
steps and along the tunnel, sending the light
beam before him. “How did you manage to
navigate without a flash?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_169">169</div>
<p>“My race, as you know, see better in the
dark than you pale-faces. But it wasn’t easy,
just the same. Some of the roof is down
farther ahead, and I barked my shin on one of
the stone blocks. Rotten air in here too. Mr.
Evans said that Turner was quite a guy at
smuggling in his day. He told me that the
house is a regular warren of secret passages.
What time is it, anyway?”</p>
<p>“Just eleven-forty-five. Parker ought to
be over the house in fifteen minutes. That
is, if he comes.”</p>
<p>“He will—” declared the Seminole. “He
said he would.”</p>
<p>“If he wakes up in time, you mean. After
those two long hops, he’ll be a dead ’un.”</p>
<p>“Oh, not so bad. I flew the plane most of
the way up here,” confessed Osceola. “So
Parker caught plenty of sleep on the trip.”</p>
<p>“Good boy! Your instructor is proud of
you. Look out—here are those blocks you
tripped over before.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_170">170</div>
<p>They scrambled over the debris and a few
moments later came to another flight of stone
steps. Osceola manipulated the sliding door
at the top very much in the same manner as
he had closed the one to the cellar. Bill
switched off his light and they entered a small,
one-roomed building. Here the Indian led
him past a broken doorway and through a
dense thicket of evergreen and brambles.
When they reached the more open woods,
Osceola paused.</p>
<p>“I ambled over these woods the day we
corralled our friend the Baron,” he remarked.
“And I took a look at the outside of Turner’s
then. Keep the moon on your right and
you’re bound to hit the harbor. It’s between
two and a half and three miles over there.”</p>
<p>“And where do you think you’re going?”
asked Bill in surprise.</p>
<p>“Over to the cove and out to Pig Island!”</p>
<p>“But you’ve no boat.”</p>
<p>“I’ll swim out.”</p>
<p>“Why, you’re crazy, Osceola! I know
you’re a marvel in the water, but there isn’t
a swimmer living who could breast that current.
Believe me, I tried it, and I know.”</p>
<p>“Well, I can make a try at it, too, can’t I?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_171">171</div>
<p>“What’s the use? Hike along with me and
we’ll be over there with the <i>Loening</i> in half
the time you could swim that distance in easy
water. Anyway, there’s your rifle—you’d
have to leave that behind. Don’t be a sap, old
fella. You can’t fight ten or a dozen of the
Sanders tribe with your fists!”</p>
<p>Osceola, who had led his class at Carlisle,
and would captain the football team in the
fall, was a young man whose brain worked
fast. Moreover, he was never afraid to admit
he might be wrong and to profit by another’s
advice.</p>
<p>“Okay,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation.
“I guess I let myself get carried away
a bit. I’ll go with you. Let’s be on our way.”</p>
<p>“Good egg. I know you’re worried half
sick about Deborah, and I don’t blame you.
You lead on, old scout. We’ll make it, yet!”</p>
<p>Osceola started off at a sharp dog trot that
he could keep up for hours if need be. Bill
ran lightly behind him, glad to be in the open
air and away from that uncanny house at last.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_172">172</div>
<p>A ten-mile breeze blowing in from the sea
rustled the treetops and shadows cast by a
full moon danced over the undergrowth.
Clouds were banking to the eastward, the salt
tang of the ocean was in the air. Bill sensed
rain or a storm and was glad that the cloud
formation, creeping upward, would shortly
blot out the silvery light. Should they be
forced to land on Pig Island in moonlight
nearly as bright as day, the odds would be all
with their enemies.</p>
<p>Osceola, with that natural bump of direction
which is inherent in all races of American
Indians, struck an overgrown deer track
and followed it. Bill, running on his second
wind, saw the young Chief slacken his pace
for an instant, then dart ahead at a stiffer gait.</p>
<p>“Here he comes!” the Indian called over
his shoulder. “If we hustle, we’ll reach the
shore soon after he lands.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_173">173</div>
<p>The white lad could hear nothing but the
soft thud of his own footsteps and the gentle
swish of the night wind in the treetops. Then,
dimly at first, came the almost imperceptible
drone of an engine far away. Within a very
few minutes, the hum grew to a roar and the
dark shape and tail-light of an airplane passed
above their heads, flying low in the same direction
they were traveling.</p>
<p>Osceola slowed down to a brisk walk. The
ground sloped upward and rocky outcroppings
made running impossible. Then he stopped
altogether and waited for his companion.</p>
<p>“There we are!” He pointed forward and
down.</p>
<p>Bill, who was not sorry for the breather,
saw that they stood on the crest of the rise.
Straight ahead the ground slanted sharply
downward. Through breaks in the foliage,
a wide stretch of moonlit water could be seen.
Floating gently on the rippling cove near the
shore lay the seaplane.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_174">174</div>
<p>“You’re a wonder, Osceola! How were
you able to draw a bead on Parker like that?
I was sure we were in for at least a mile’s
tramp along the shore before we’d get within
hailing distance.”</p>
<p>“Nothing mysterious about it. That’s a
cove off the main harbor you’re looking at.
Parker told me of his rendezvous with you.
I knew about this cove, and made it a bit more
definite, that’s all. I’ll give him the signal
and we’ll go on down.”</p>
<p>Two sharp barks of a fox came from
Osceola’s throat. Immediately the idling hum
of the airplane motor increased to a roar,
awakening forest echoes and the amphibian
commenced to move through the water
toward the shore. Without a word the two
friends scrambled down the rocky incline to
meet it.</p>
<p>“Is that you, chief?” called Ezra Parker’s
voice as they neared the water.</p>
<p>“Sure is. And I’ve got Bill Bolton with
me.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_175">175</div>
<p>“Good enough,” answered the aviator, as
they came onto the narrow beach. “How be
yer, Bill?”</p>
<p>“Rearin’ to go, Ezra—and I reckon that’s
what we’ve got to do, pronto!”</p>
<p>“Anything up?”</p>
<p>“Plenty. Sanders has got Charlie, and the
gang’s over at Pig Island right now, trying
to capture Deborah and old Jim.”</p>
<p>“Gosh all hemlock!” exploded Ezra.
“Things are popping, that’s certain.”</p>
<p>“And that’s not the half of it,” cut in
Osceola. “If Bill doesn’t hike down to Stamford,
Connecticut, and prove to members of
the Sanders outfit down there that he is out of
this thing for keeps—those devils threaten to
put Charlie out of the way, and Deborah too,
if they can get her!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_176">176</div>
<p>“Well, that sure is the limit!” Ezra’s
tone was filled with concern. “Jump aboard,
boys, while I run her out in the harbor.
There’s no telling who may be sneakin’
’round in these woods. No sense takin’ any
more chances than we have to.”</p>
<p>The Chief swung himself on to the amphibian’s
deck which ran from amidships forward
to her nose below the two cockpits and
inverted motor. Bill meanwhile quickly
doffed his clothes, which together with
Sanders’ automatic he flung to the Seminole.
He waded into the water, pushed the plane
out until she floated clear, and walked out
until he could grasp a wing tip. After much
heaving and hauling, for the water was up
to his armpits, he managed to swing the plane
around until her nose was pointed toward the
mouth of the cove.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Bill,” said Ezra, and Osceola
gave his pal a hand aboard. “This place is
too narrow for manœuvering. I was wonderin’
how I could get her out of here.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_177">177</div>
<p>“Gimme a towel!” Bill’s teeth were chattering.
“There’s one in the locker in your
cockpit, Ezra. Lucky you didn’t try swimming
over to the island tonight, Osceola. If
anything is colder than this Maine ocean
when the sun’s off it, I’ve yet to find it.”</p>
<p>With Osceola he piled into the rear cockpit.
Then while, Parker taxied the plane out
to mid-harbor, Bill got into his clothes.
Parker snapped off the ignition and twisted
around in his seat.</p>
<p>“Now let’s have the lowdown on this,
Bill.”</p>
<p>Bill climbed down to the deck and gave
him a short outline of the events of the day
and evening. “Kind of between the devil
and the deep sea, aren’t we?” he finished
grimly. “Time’s more than money now. So
hop in aft with the chief, and let me in the
fore cockpit. I’m going to fly the bus. There
ought to be a couple of repeating rifles and
ammunition in the locker aft. Pass one of
them out to me, will you, Osceola? Ezra can
use the other. You two, stick on head-phones.
While I’m driving, see if you can’t come to
some decision about this Stamford business.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_178">178</div>
<p>As Parker climbed out of the fore cockpit
and went aft, Bill hopped into the vacated
pilot’s seat. A rifle and ammunition were
passed to him. He made sure that the magazine
was full, then pulled forth a helmet and
goggles from a small locker. These he put
on, cast a hurried glance aft and satisfying
himself that his companions were ready for
the take-off, he switched on the ignition.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_179">179</div>
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