Lost in the Wilds of Brazil

“All right.” And the agreement was made.

Bob and Joe looked at each other. What were they to do now? They had secured evidence that these men were the guilty ones. Now would it be best to report the matter to the police at once, or had they better wait longer for any further information that the crooks might unknowingly give them?

“Let’s wait a few more minutes,” suggested Joe. “They might leave the house just as we made for our car, and then it would be too bad.”

Bob thought this good advice, and he leaned against the house to wait. Joe remained at the window.

For a minute there was silence inside. Then the man called Tim got up from his chair and started for the door.

“Where you goin’?” he was asked.

“Over to see if I can’t collect that dough,” he growled. “Anybody want ter go with me?”

“What’s the use?” one fellow asked. “We was there not more than an hour ago.”

“All right. Leave it to me.”

He walked on toward the door.

“Come on,” muttered Joe. “Let’s get to our car before he gets away.”

As hastily, yet as quietly, as possible the youths ran around the back of the house and through the alley for a distance of about a square. Then they turned out to the street and to their car.

Joe had the motor started just as the crook left the curb.

“Let’s head him off,” suggested Bob. “We can easily get there before he does if we cut across and not take the through street.”

“Good idea,” and the car was turned up a narrow cross street.

Before long the boys were in the neighborhood of the house occupied by that man who had indirectly set Mr. Lewis’s garage on fire by hiring criminals experienced in that line to do it.

“Be careful and don’t get too close,” warned Joe, as they neared the structure.

“O. K. Let’s go around the alley. We can park there for a few minutes and nobody will know anything about it.”

The car was turned into the alley and parked almost directly behind the house. Then the youths got out to stretch their legs and decide on a plan of action.

“How will we work it?” asked Joe, glancing around to see if anyone happened to be watching them.

For a moment there was no answer. Then Bob had an idea.

“Let’s walk up to the back door,” he said. “There are a lot of trees and shrubbery close and we can hide behind them until we are sure that everything is all right.”

Joe agreed, and they made their way as quietly as possible.

When close enough, they saw that the door was shut and the blinds were drawn. It was evident that no one was at home.

Suddenly there came a noise from the front of the house and both boys concealed themselves behind a large clump of bushes.

“Someone’s coming around to the back door,” breathed Bob.

“Probably that’s Tim who came back here to collect the money owed him. The fellow we headed off, I mean. Yes, it’s he,” Joe observed, peeking down the side of the house.

The sound of footsteps grew louder, and the next minute the man stepped around the corner, fists clinched and face scowling.

“Come on,” said Bob, and leaving his place of hiding he launched himself with full force on the back of the crook.

CHAPTER IV

The Treacherous Crook

WITH an oath the man shook Bob off and turned to deal with him.

“You?” he growled in surprise. “You, little more than a kid, would dare to fight Tim Donnahan? Why, I’ll – ”

The sentence remained unfinished, for at that moment Bob’s fist shot out with lightning rapidity and caught the man squarely between the eyes. Without an outcry he went sprawling to the ground and rolled over.

For a second he remained dazed. Then he recovered himself and regained his feet.

Summoning all his power he lunged forward, mouth foaming and eyes glaring with rage.

It was easy to see that Bob was dealing with no weakling. His heaving chest was in itself a symbol of strength, as were also the powerful arms and heavy body. But then neither was Bob a weakling, as he had displayed so many times before. True he did not delight in fighting, but when called upon he was able to give a good account of himself. If the truth be known, he had not only won cups and letters in high school football and basketball, but in boxing as well. Joe was lighter and less robust, although by no means easy to knock out.

Now, as the young men faced this crook, there was a strong desire to win in their minds. Here was a chance – perhaps the only one they would have – to bring these men to justice for their cruel, underhanded way of getting even with Mr. Lewis for a trivial matter.

They possessed two fears. What if this fellow had a gun with him and thought nothing of using it? And what if the arch-crook would emerge from the house?

“If he only stays away,” thought Bob, as he cleverly ducked the large fist that came with all force.

For nearly five minutes the fight kept up, neither of the participants gaining anything.

Then suddenly the man swung around in an unguarded moment and sent his fist crashing into Bob’s jaw. Taken unawares, the youth went to the ground, almost unconscious.

Grinning in triumph, the crook was reaching for a revolver when Joe leaped forward and threw him on his side. The impact hurled the gun several feet away, and both made for it.

But Bob was there first! He had struggled to his senses while Joe did his part to prevent calamity.

“Get back!” Bob commanded, flashing the automatic in the man’s face. “It’s all over now!”

For a moment the fellow could not believe that the tide had turned. He stared first at Bob and then at Joe, muttering to himself. Once he started forward, but, as the gun was pressed in his face, he shrank back, apparently giving himself over to any fate.

“Get goin’,” Joe commanded, advancing a step or two.

The order was obeyed, and they marched out to the alley, where Mr. Holton’s car remained, unmolested.

“Now,” said Bob, handing the key to Joe, “I’ll get in the back seat and guard this man, and you get in front and drive us to the police station.”

No conversation was carried on during the trip, for the boys resolved to take no chances.