The Boy Scouts on Picket Duty Part 9

It would have been better for Billy had he remained in hiding; but he was eager to know how Durgan and his confederates would manage to run their cargo on board the _Esperanza_, having no motor boat to use; and he was even more eager to find out what had become of Hugh.

Without stopping longer, therefore, in the neighborhood of the bonfire, he hurried away toward the spot at which he had heard the men propose to run the cargo.

He must have crept onward for ten minutes or so, when he head a pistol fired.

The shot was followed by two or three others in quick succession.

This made him more than ever eager to find out what was happening.

He doubled his speed. Fortunately, by mere chance, he had stumbled upon the very stretch of ground which he and Dave had traversed earlier in the day; the trail was fairly good, and he knew just how to proceed.

All this while he had not seen a single person, and he had not been seen by any of the smugglers.

After a few minutes he heard more shots sounding much nearer, then shouts and hoa.r.s.e yells, mingled with the sharp staccato of pistols and rifles. He felt sure that by this time the soldiers under Lieutenant Driscoll had come up and were having a lively fight with the outlaws, the latter trying to defend their property, and the former to confiscate it.

At any moment he expected to find that the men whom he was following were returning to the beach to join their comrades; but evidently they had received strict orders to go straight to the cabins, for they went on, and he followed them. Now he availed himself of all the knowledge of stalking and trailing which he had gained in scoutcraft games at Pioneer Camp.

Which party, the soldiers or the smugglers, would succeed in their object seemed doubtful. The darkness was intense, and though Billy pictured the whole scene, as yet he could not see anything except an occasional spurt of flame as a revolver or rifle spat viciously.

Even the forms of the men he was following had disappeared from view.

This did not discourage him, for he was used to following a trail in the dark.

Still he stumbled onward, forgetting that bullets flying about were no respecters of persons.

At last he reached the top of a low mound whence he could see dimly a number of dark figures scurrying hither and thither. From their actions and from the babel of shouts, commands, oaths and shooting that came from the little clearing around the huts, he judged that they were engaged in a determined struggle.

That the soldiers were having the best of it, he had no doubt. It appeared to him that they had captured not only part of the intended cargo but also some of Bego's men; while others, bolder villains, seemed to be trying to rescue their comrades.

In his rejoicing over this turn of affairs, he gave a yell of triumph---and just at that moment a bullet whizzed over his shoulder, almost searing his neck! The yell quavered on his lips, and he dropped down on his knees, which were trembling and knocking together.

"Whew! that came pretty close to yours truly!" said Billy, speaking aloud as if he expected some one to hear him. "That's what might be called being 'under fire,' and I don't like the sensation---not by a long shot!"

Even in moments of danger or of distress, Billy managed to see the funny side of circ.u.mstances. He grinned now at his little joke, but all the while he was intently scanning the scene before him and wondering if he would be drawn into taking part in it. Also, he was anxious to know where his friends were at that moment. Would they join in the fray?

Suddenly his eager gaze was s.h.i.+fted to a new quarter. He stared, wide-eyed and breathless.

Out of the night, running like mad along the sh.o.r.e and across the acres of sand and clay and mud, came a body of men armed with rifles.

They were making directly toward the scene of conflict as fast as they could find their difficult way.

"Who are they? Where have they come from?" Billy wondered.

And then, like a flash, he understood. "Oh!" he gasped. "Oh, I know, I know now! They're the men from the _Petrel_! Marines, I guess---if that's what you call 'em."

It was true; the new arrivals were the Revenue Service men, and as it chanced, they had come just in the nick of time. For Joe Durgan, Branks, Harry Mole, Max, the villainous half-breed, and others at the huts, were being reinforced by Bego's followers who had hurried up from the bonfire; and they were beating back the soldiers, whom they now outnumbered.

Suddenly Billy heard another yell, a wild, eerie, shrill call, and Dave, leading Norton and the Boy Scouts, sprang from their boat which had crept up to the farther side of the clearing, and dashed forward to meet the crew of the _Petrel_.

Recognizing them even in the darkness---which now began to be relieved by stray gleams of moonlight struggling out of the clouds---the revenue men turned to the left under Dave's guidance, and took a short-cut, coming up in the rear of the battle.

Alone on the little mound, Billy realized that he was separated from his reunited scout friends and their allies by a small mob of desperately fighting men. He was cut off from the rest by reason of Dave's having steered the boat along a watercourse of which he, Billy, knew nothing; in fact, he had lost his bearings and knew not in which direction the improvised camp lay.

However, the conflict before him absorbed his thoughts and left him no time to worry about his own predicament. He was still wondering how the revenue men had happened to arrive at a critical time.

The explanation was as follows:

Unknown to Billy or to any of his friends, the _Petrel_ had steamed full speed to Palmetto Key; and Captain Vinton, sighting the cutter from the deck of the concealed _Arrow_, had signaled to her captain, telling him just where to land his men. This accounted for their unexpected arrival, which soon turned the tide of battle in their favor.

Creeping forward, Billy saw the smugglers fleeing in all directions, after setting fire to the two smaller cabins. As they ran, they exchanged shots with the soldiers and the revenue men; but, owing to the gloom, these shots failed to take much effect, beyond slightly wounding their captors. Fired on in turn, they ran toward the beach, past their smouldering bonfire, near which their boat was drawn up on the sands waiting to take them back to the _Esperanza_.

The light of the blazing huts now illumined the scene, and in the glow, Norton caught sight of Billy running toward them. He hailed the lad with a shout:

"Hi! Hurry up, Billy! Where have you been all this time?"

"Watching the fight!" shouted Billy, whose voice sounded doleful.

"Wis.h.i.+ng I could b.u.t.t into it earlier! Come on, come on! We're chasing 'em!"

"Hold on!" Norton exclaimed loudly. "We've had about enough of this.

Here we'll stay, my boy, and let our better-armed friends capture the gang. When they get to their boat it will be a case of 'first come, first served' to get away. Most of them'll be caught and captured. Meanwhile, it's up to us to find Hugh. He must be in that largest shanty there, unless-----"

"Come on!" yelled Billy, seeing his brother scouts already commencing the search.

He dashed over to the remaining shanty and flung himself against the door.

"Hugh, Hugh!" he called. "Are you in there?"

No answer---only the roaring and crackling of the flames as they devoured the old walls and crumbling roof of the nearby abandoned dwellings.

"Hugh!" shouted Alec and Chester, banging on the door, while Mark ran around the cabin, looking in vain for a window or other means of entrance.

The door gave way and the three scouts rushed in, followed by Norton.

Dave stood in the doorway, his lanky form with the red glare of the fire behind it casting a grotesque shadow on the interior wall of the cabin. He remained there on guard, lest any of the smugglers should return.

Alec struck a match. Its sputtering flame lighted the single room, dispelling the shadows for a brief moment. Anxiously they all peered around the dingy shanty.

"Hugh, where are you?" said Billy in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "Are you here? Can't you speak?"

Still no answer.

Then Alec's match went out.

"Have you another match?" asked Norton.

Like Billy's, his voice was husky. A vague dread seemed to seize him, weighing down upon him like a tangible thing.

"Yes," said Alec. "Here's one more---the last."

Again he struck a light and a hasty search was made. Every moment was precious.

In vain. The cabin was empty.