The Motor Rangers' Wireless Station

  At last he reached a point of vantage where he could creep up on thewindow sidewise, and very slowly and patiently he did so. The casementwas open, for the night was warm, and crouching under the open sash helistened attentively to the growl of masculine voices which was audiblefrom within.

  With a sharp thrill he recognized one of them as being Minory’s. Theother was unknown. He had just made this discovery when somethinghappened so entirely unexpected that the boy was for an instant almostdeprived of his wits.

  Without knowing it, he had been standing on a board. Suddenly it snappedin two without the slightest warning. As it broke, it gave a loud“crack!” almost as loud as a pistol shot.

  “What’s that?” came a shout from within, and Ding-dong heard aheavy-footed rush for the window.

  “It’s a spy!” came a shout, and then an oath.

  Ding-dong’s activities returned with a rush. Like a jack rabbit hedarted off, running as he had never run before. Behind him came shouts:

  “It’s one of those kids! Get him! Get him if you have to shoot him!Don’t let him get away!”

  Ding-dong’s fear lent him wings. As he fled, he heartily wished he hadinformed the police and let them attend to the case. But it was too latefor such wishes now. All at once his foot caught in a root and he fellheadlong. He was up in a second, but in that brief fraction of time hispursuers had gained on him.

  Bang! A report sounded behind him and a bullet whistled somewhere nearhis head.

  “Gracious, pretty close shooting, considering they’re on the run!”thought the boy.

  Panting and desperate, he pressed on, while behind him still came therapid beat of feet. Then came another sound that caused his terror toredouble. It was the sharp rattle of a horse’s hoofs coming forward attop speed! Ahead of the boy lay the sea. He could go no further.

  “Gracious! It’s all over now!” he thought, when suddenly the earthappeared to drop out from under his feet and he felt himself falling,clutching frantically at the air, through space. Above him somewhere,heard dimly as if in a dream, came shouts and hoarse cries mingled withthe trampling of hoofs.

  Ding-dong gave a desperate shout, and it was still on his lips when hestruck something solid but soft and yielding.

  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  AT THE OLD MISSION.

  When Nat saw the light, carried by the men whom they had been following,vanish as if it had been a Will o’ the Wisp, it will be recalled thatboth he and Joe started forward suddenly. It was an ill-advised move,for the instant that they advanced from behind a still up-standingsection of the ruined mission wall, which had obscured the lantern, oldIsrael and his two sons sprang upon them.

  Entirely unprepared for such a move, the two boys were taken off theirguard, but nevertheless the oar which Joe carried came into effectiveplay. Seth Harley grabbed him, but as his hands clutched the Hartleyboy’s clothing, “Whack!” came Joe’s oar on his arm, temporarilydisabling him.

  With a howl of mingled rage and pain, Seth held back, leaving the fieldto his father and brother. Old Israel, although of great age,demonstrated his ability in a rough and tumble, leaping at Nat andpinioning his arms before the boy had a chance to defend himself. Joehaving disposed of Seth for the time being, dashed to the rescue, but hewas, in turn, tackled by old Israel’s other son and borne to the groundalmost as soon as he interfered.

  The unequal contest came to a speedy conclusion, with the Harleysvictorious. Nat and Joe found themselves bound and secured, hand andfoot, within a few seconds from the time that they had engaged thesmuggler’s crowd.

  “Thought we wasn’t on the lookout, did yer?” scoffed old Israel, as hemade some lashings of rope fast about the boys’ wrists and ankles.“Wa’al, you got another guess comin’ now, ain’t ye? What’ll we do with’em, boys?”

  It was useless to make any outcry, and both lads knew it, so in silencethey awaited the verdict that was to decide their fate. It was SethHarley who delivered it:

  “That pesky kid, thar’, got away from us once and I ain’t calculatin’ tohev him do it agin,” he said. “Let’s put ’em in the old Booty Hole.It’ll be a long time afore they git out of thar’, I’m thinkin’.”

  Naturally enough, neither of the boys had the least idea of what the“Booty Hole” was, but Nat opined that it was some sort of a cellar orexcavation amidst the ruins, and in this he was not mistaken. The twolads were roughly seized and pushed forward among the ruins without anyregard to their feelings. As they were half-dragged, half-shoved overthe rough ground and piled-up debris, old Israel kept up a running fireof satirical comment on their plight.

  “Wa’al, this is sure a fine fix fer two bright byes to be in, ain’t it?”he grinned. “Two nice young fellers that thought they knew it all, hum?This is the one time that you don’t git away, kid,” he added, addressingNat with a vicious intonation. “We’re a-goin’ ter put yer where youwon’t git out till Kingdom Come, and maybe not then.”

  The boys did not reply. To have given utterance to their feelings inwords would have been as useless as to have made active resistance.Seth, who was slightly in advance, while old Harley and his other sonheld the boys, paused suddenly.

  “Here we are,” he said, and stooping, he raised a big flat stone whichin turn disclosed a door, apparently a part of the cellarage of theformer mission building.

  There was a ring in the door which the younger Harley gripped, and thenflung the portal back. It revealed a steep flight of steps and beyondthem abysmal darkness. It was plain enough to the boys that they were tobe thrust into this place as prisoners.

  If any doubt of this fact had existed in their minds it was speedilydissipated.

  “Git down thar’,” growled old Harley with an oath, as he gave Nat avicious shove.

  “See here, Harley,” exclaimed the boy. “What useful purpose do you thinkyou’re serving by treating us this way? You know as well as I do thatyou are amenable to the law for your conduct. Don’t think for a minutethat you can ever escape your just punishment.”

  “Talk like a striplin’ preacher, don’t yer?” sneered the old man. “Jes’let me tell yer one thing, young feller, thar’ ain’t a law in SantyBarbary County that kin touch ole Iz Harley; so put that in your pipean’ smoke it.”

  The boys were suddenly jerked forward, and toppling over, fell in a heapdown the steep steps of the cellarage. Then they heard the door abovethem slammed to with a bang, and they were alone in the darkness, lying,luckily uninjured, at the foot of the steps.

  “Nat, are you all right?” spoke Joe.

  “Sure, but I feel a bit dizzy after that plunge.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Get out of here if possible.”

  “I like that ‘if possible’! There doesn’t look to me to be a chance onearth.”

  “If only we could get these ropes off! Say, mine are kind of loosearound the wrists! Maybe I can wriggle out of ’em. If I can, we can atleast get the use of our hands and feet again.”

  Nat worked hard for half an hour or more on his wrist bonds and finallysucceeded in stretching them till he could get his hands free. In theirhaste, the Harleys had not bothered to tie the ropes really tight or theboys’ plight would have indeed been a desperate one.

  “Whoopee! I’m loose,” he cried presently. “Lucky the Harleys didn’tbother to search us or we might have more hard work ahead of us, but Ireckon this knife will help some.”

  He reached into his pocket, pulled out his knife and slashed at his legbonds. In another minute he was free, and Joe’s liberty followedimmediately.

  “Now for some matches,” exclaimed Joe.

  “I think I’ve got some,” responded Nat. “Yes, hurray, here’s a wholebox!”

  He struck a lucifer and a yellow flame flared up, illumining theirsurroundings. They saw that they were in a smallish excavation withbricked-up sides. From the walls hung moldering chains suggesting thatat one time the place might have
been used as a prison for rebelliousIndians or fractious monks. But the boys didn’t waste much time inlooking at their prison. By common consent they made for the stairway.

  “I guess old Harley must have used this place to store his smuggledgoods at some time or other,” hazarded Nat, as they ascended the steps;“it must have made an ideal place for the purpose, too.”

  “Well, I hope it wasn’t made to store two boys in,” commented Joe.

  “Not these two, anyhow, let’s hope,” added Nat.

  They were not surprised to find that the door at the head of the stepsdid not yield to their shovings.

  “I’ll bet they’ve weighted it down with old rocks and debris,” criedNat, recalling sundry noises he had heard on the door after it wasslammed shut.

  “What shall we do now?” wondered Joe, with a note of despair in hisvoice.

  “Let’s look around down below and see if we can’t find something that wecan use to force the door in some way,” said Nat.

  They descended the steps once more, this time in the darkness, for itwas necessary to husband their stock of matches. When they reached thefloor of the old cellar Nat struck a light, and after one or two matcheshad been expended they were fortunate enough to discover in a corner ofthe place a stout oaken plank, which had apparently once formed part ofa flooring.

  “Good!” exclaimed Nat.

  “I don’t quite see how that solves our problem,” commented Joe.

  “Wait and you’ll see,” was the reply, and Nat once more led the way upthe steps.

  At one point the door did not fit closely, and it was here that Natinserted one end of the plank.

  “Catch hold,” he told Joe, and then using the plank as a pry the twoboys bent all their strength toward raising the door.

  As the portal sloped outward the stones with which the Harleys hadweighted it slipped back, and it was not long before the two lads werefree once more.

  “Thank goodness, we’ve seen the last of that place,” said Joe, as theystood in the open with the wind howling furiously about them and therain beating across the sands, for the storm had once more revived withmore fury than ever.

  “Not the last of it, Joe, for we’re coming back there.”

  “What for, I’d like to know? Just for old acquaintance sake?”

  “No; for a more material reason. Didn’t you notice those boxes and balesin one corner? Old Harley must have used it as a storehouse for hissmuggled stuff just as he did the cave, and I think they were intendingto visit it to-night when we surprised them.”

  “Ginger! Nat, I guess you’re right. Maybe those things are valuable.”

  “Not a question of that. But now let’s get on our way back to thewireless station. Nate may need our help by this time.”

  Putting their best pace forward, the two boys headed for the huts. Theywere not more than half way there, when out of the storm a figureappeared. It was Nate. He gave a shout of relief at seeing themunharmed.

  “From the talk of those fellows I thought you were in a living tomb,” heexplained; “they said they’d buried you alive where you’d never getout.”

  Nat laughed.

  “I guess a good many folks have thought that they had the Motor Rangersdown and out,” he said, “but they are here yet. Now, tell us whathappened over at the station, Nate.”

  “If it hadn’t a’ bin fer this storm, I reckon there’s a whole lot ofthings would a’ happened,” was the reply; “but it come on to blow sohard that they was scared their ground tackle would drag and put theschooner on shore,—you know the wind’s shifted and is blowing rightinter the cove. The two fellers I was shadowin’ made straight fer thewireless hut and I reckon calkerlated to smash things up generally, butI got on the job with my oar,—by the way, I busted it,—and persuaded ’emit would be healthier for them some other place.”

  “What, you routed two of them?” cried Nat.

  “Don’t know about routed ’em, but I sure got ’em on the run. Then theothers come along and hollered to ’em, and, as by that time it wasblowing great guns, I reckon they thought it ’ud be a sight better tovamoose than to bother after me; so they all piled inter the boat androwed off to the schooner. She’s been gone about an hour. Then I set outto look fer you, fer I heard ’em boasting about how they’d got youbottled up.”

  By the time Nate had finished his narrative they were almost at thehuts.

  “Now for a good, hot supper and bed!” cried Joe luxuriously, as theycame in sight of the structures. “We’ve had just about enough excitementfor one night, I guess.”

  But they were not destined to slumber uninterruptedly. It was pastmidnight when the loud and insistent clangor of the wireless gong routedthem out of bed.

  “News of Ding-dong, I’ll bet a cookie,” cried Joe, slipping on abathrobe and slippers and running for the wireless shack. But it was notany information concerning Ding-dong that came winging through thestorm-stressed air. Instead, it was a message for assistance of the mosturgent kind. Nat, who was listening in at the extra receivers, gave agasp as he heard it.

  The message was from the Pancake Shoals Lightship and called forimmediate assistance.

  “_We are adrift after collision with a schooner_,” was the despatch.“_Send help at once. Braithwaite._”

  “That’s the old skipper who was so kind to me the night I escaped fromthe cave,” cried Nat. “Tell him we’ll get on the job at once, Joe. Askhim to give us his position.”

  “Why, we can’t tow him with the _Nomad_,” objected Joe.

  “We’ll try to. There isn’t a steam tug in the harbor now. I happen toknow, for I saw the last one, the _Sea King_, steaming north with a towwhen I was over there. It’s up to us to help out.”

  Joe turned to his instruments, while the wind howled and screamed aboutthe little shanty. Briskly he tapped out the message and then waited forthe answer. Both boys felt the wonder of it as they listened to themanifold noises of the storm. The marvel of an electric wave that couldpenetrate the disturbed elements and carry a message of hope and succorto a distressed craft! The answer was not long in coming.

  “_We are drifting south rapidly. About ten miles off shore. Come withall speed you can._”

  The situation was hastily explained to Nate, who had joined them, and inless time than would have seemed possible the trio were in oil skins androwing out to the _Nomad_. Joe acted as engine tender while Nate and Natheld the bridge. Out into the storm pushed the stout little craft withher engines going full speed.

  As she rounded the point that terminated the cove, however, Nat had tosignal, “Slow down.” The seas were running furiously, lashed by the galeinto watery mountains. Into the vortex of the battling, unrestrainedelements the _Nomad_ plunged like a gladiator. A huge wave hurtled overthe bow dousing the occupants of the bridge with blindfolding, chokingspray. Nat realized that they were bent on a desperately dangerousadventure.

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  CORNERED AT LAST.

  “See any lights ahead?”

  Half choked and blinded by the spray, Nat put the question to Nate asunder reduced speed the _Nomad_ fought her way through the storm.

  “Not yet, but I’m keeping a bright lookout for them.”

  “That’s right. We ought to sight her before long, if she hasn’t goneashore.”

  Fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes passed and the stout little craft stillplunged forward in the night, at times almost entirely obscured by spumeand flying spray. With anxious eyes they peered through the blackness.

  “She can’t have gone down!” suggested Nate in his blunt way.

  “Oh, surely not that!” cried Nat. “There,—there,—look!”

  “Good!” shouted Nate with stentorian lungs and sublime disregard ofgrammar, “it’s her, for sure.”

  Directly ahead of them a brilliant rocket had pierced the gloom of thetempestuous night and burst in a shower of rubicund radiance high inair.

  “Hold
the wheel, Nate, and head direct for her. I’m going to get busywith the wireless!” cried Nat, and dived below.

  Presently across the tossing waves a message went flashing to theLightship.

  “_This is the_ Nomad. _We have seen your rocket. Will be alongside in ashort time._”

  “_Bully for you_,” came back the blunt answer from old CaptainBraithwaite, “_we need you dern bad_.”

  “_How did you get adrift?_” flashed Nat.

  “_A schooner bumped into us and the force of the collision broke usloose._”

  “_What became of the schooner?_”

  “_We rescued the crew but the craft is a wreck on the Pancake Shoals_,”was the rejoinder.

  Nat cut off the instruments and visited Joe with the news. Havingimparted his information to the young engineer, after bidding him paystrict attention to signals from the bridge, he went on deck again. Thesea was still running high, but the wind appeared to be less boisterous.Ahead of them the tossing lights of the Lightship could now be seen. Hetook the wheel from Nate, tackling it with renewed vigor. The thoughtthat their wireless was to be the means of saving human lives inspiredhim with a sort of desperate courage. Nat felt at that moment that hecould have dared anything and won out.

  Another rocket cut the night and spattered against the black sky like anegg chucked at a blackboard.

  “There she goes!” cried Nate exultingly, and Nat, taking a chance,signalled to Joe for more speed. Under her increased momentum the_Nomad_ dived into the seas fearfully. Her occupants were doused fromhead to foot, but at the moment they did not care about that. All theirenergies were bent on reaching the side of the stricken Lightship asquickly as possible.