The Dreadnought Boys on Aero Service

"This way," said the man, climbing over a rail fence and striking off across a field, on the further side of which was a patch of ragged woods. Through the trees Herc could catch the glint of water.

It was a lonely spot. He looked about him, but could not see any trace of a human habitation.

"If this should be a trap I'm nicely in it, all right," he muttered to himself as he followed his guide into the shadows of the wood.

"How much further?" he asked, as they stumbled along over the rough path.

"Right ahead down by the creek," said the man. "We're almost there now."

With a few paces more they emerged on the banks of a slow-flowing and muddy creek, which was evidently tidal and joined the Bartonville Bay lower down. About a hundred yards off stood a rickety looking shack, and anchored in the creek opposite to it was a sloop with a red band painted round its bulwarks. Suddenly and for no reason that he could assign, the recollection flashed across Herc that he had heard Ned speak of such a sloop. At the time though he could not recall in what connection.

"Is this the place?" asked Herc, as his guide slackened his pace.

"This is it," nodded the man, and again a sharp presentiment that all was not right, flashed through Herc. But it was too late to hold back now.

"I'll give him the signal," said the man, placing his fingers to his lips. A shrill whistle followed.

As if by magic, from the tall, spiky grass about them, half a dozen men sprang erect.

"It is a trap!" shouted Herc, flinging himself furiously upon the first man who rushed at him. The lad fought valiantly, but the contest was too uneven to last long. Within five minutes, Herc, raging like a lion, and inwardly abusing his own gullibility that had led him into such an ambush, was bound hand and foot and stretched a prisoner on the floor of the old rookery of a shanty.

CHAPTER XVII

THE SPRINGING THEREOF

The rude hut, which, judging by its odor and condition, was used as an occasional shelter for the bay fishermen, was full of talk and smoke. Herc could not catch much meaning from the confused babel of tongues, but judged from the intelligible snatches he could seize upon, that it related to himself and Ned.

He was hardly surprised to recognize, among the occupants of the place, Chance and Merritt, as well as Herr Muller. There were four or five other men, including the one who had led him into the trap.

Herc's keen eyes also noticed one peculiarity about each of the men about him. Every one of them wore in his buttonhole a tiny strip of bright red ribbon. What its significance might be, he had no way of telling, of course, but it impressed him.

"Well," said Herr Muller at last, his voice rising masterfully above those of the rest, "we had better be getting on board. The tide is on the turn, and we have much to do. Besides, they may pursue us from the town."

"No chance of that, comrade," rejoined the man who had conducted Herc from Bartonville. "I got the lad away without any one noticing our departure."

"Just the same, both those Dreadnought Boys are tricky as cats," snarled Merritt. "My advice is to get away at once."

A general bustle followed. Herc was lifted bodily, and carried down a narrow plank gangway leading to the sloop. Once on board, he was half-thrown, half-pushed, into a stuffy cabin, and the door above him closed with a sharp bang. He heard a metallic clang, as the bolts and lock, which evidently held it, were closed.

"Wow!" exclaimed the Dreadnought Boy. "If this isn't what old Ben Franklin would call 'the logical limit of the uttermost.'"

The cabin was almost dark, being lighted only by two dirty and very small port holes. It was, moreover, stuffy and malodorous. Herc tried to get on his feet, but, being bound hand and foot, he was compelled to lie as he had fallen at the foot of the stairs. On deck he could hear the trampling of feet, and before long the motion of the sloop told him that she was under way.

"Going to sea, I guess," mused Herc. "I wonder what they mean to do with me?"

He was left to speculate on this topic for some time. The motion of a choppy sea was already manifest when a man descended into the cabin with some bread and some cold meat. He also had a stone jug presumably containing water.

"Here you are," he said, thrusting it in front of Herc. "You'd better eat while you get a chance."

"I can't do that very well while I'm all trussed up like a roasting chicken," objected Herc.

"That's so," assented the man. "Well, I guess there's no harm in setting you loose for a while. We've cleared the bay, and the only place you can go to if you want to get away is overboard."

So saying, he loosened Herc's bonds, to the immense satisfaction of the freckle-faced boy.

The man seemed to be a shade less rough than his companions, so Herc ventured to ask him a question.

"What is the occasion for all this?" he inquired in a half-humorous tone.

"Now, don't ask questions, and you won't hear untruths," said the man.

With this, he hastened out of the cabin, carefully relocking the companionway door on the outside.

"Wow!" exclaimed Herc, giving vent to his favorite exclamation. Then he fell to eating with a will.

The meal, coarse as it was, revived his spirits. It was only when he came to taste the water that he put it down with a wry face. It was bitter, and had a nauseating flavor.

"I'm not certain," mused Herc, "but nevertheless, I'm pretty sure that some sort of drug has been placed in that stuff. Too bad. I'm thirsty enough to drink it all, too."

The motion of the sloop was quite lively now. It was evident that they were some distance out at sea. Occasionally, too, a green wave, washing over one of the port-holes, partially obscured what little light there was.

"Guess I might as well explore the place and see what sort of a craft this is," said Herc, as inactivity grew irksome. He started up from the locker on which he had been sitting, and made toward a door at the stern of the cabin.

It was not locked, and the lad threw it open without effort. What was his astonishment to see, stretched on a bunk, apparently in deep slumber, the form of his missing comrade.

"Ned! Ned!" exclaimed Herc, springing forward.

Usually Ned, as sailors say, "slept with one eye open." This was a quality he shared with most seamen.

Herc was heartily astonished, therefore, to find that his shipmate did not respond at once to his vigorous shakings and shoutings. At length however, he bestirred himself, and yawned, moving in an inert fashion, much unlike his usual movements, which were full of activity and life.

"Oh-ho! Hi-hum!" he yawned, gaping broadly, and gazing about him. "What's up, watch turning out?"

"Wish it was, and that we were safe back on the old Manhattan," muttered Herc.

"No, my hearty," he went on, "the watch isn't being turned out; but it's time you woke up, just the same. It's my opinion that you've been drugged with some of that stuff they tried to give me."

After renewed efforts, Herc finally succeeded in getting Ned broad awake. But it was some minutes before his befogged brain took in the situation. As Herc had suspected, he had been drugged by some substance placed in a drink of water he had asked for.

Ned, once restored to himself, speedily explained how it was the sight of Kennell passing the hotel that had caused him to make his hasty exit, and indirectly bring about the present situation.

He had followed Kennell through the outskirts of the town, he said, wishing to find out where he was going. He succeeded in this beyond his hopes, but Kennell, it appeared subsequently, had been aware that Ned was following him, from the moment the Dreadnought Boy had left the hotel. Cunningly he had led him right up to the lone fisher hut, and Ned's capture had been swift and easy for the nefarious band.

Herc's story followed.

"There's something mysterious about the band," he said. "Take that bit of ribbon they wear, for instance – what is it? What does it signify?"

"I heard enough of their talk before I drank the drugged water to apprise me of that," said Ned. "These fellows are a bunch of desperate anarchists. They are acting, as far as I can make out, in the interests of some European power, and mean to do all the harm they can to Uncle Sam's navy."