The Bungalow Boys in the Great Northwest

This utterance from one of the wretches outside was greeted by a chorus of approving shouts and yells. Tom turned despairingly to the others. As he did so the barn began to fill with smoke and hot sparks showered them. It was evident that they must soon adopt one of the alternatives hurled at them by the brutal mutineers.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE ROUND-UP. – CONCLUSION

As the hot breath of the flames grew more ardent, Hunt began to stir uneasily upon his couch. Suddenly the wounded man came out of his swoon with a shout. He sat upright, staring wildly about him, his blood-stained, wan face illumined by the flames. But after his first instant of confusion he perceived at once what had happened.

“The dogs!” he exclaimed, reeling to his feet, “they’ve set the shed on fire. But we’ll outwit them yet.”

Tom was at his side in an instant.

“You know a way by which we can get out of here?” he exclaimed.

Hunt nodded.

“It’s a good thing I come to when I did,” he said, “or we all might have roasted in here.”

He shuffled rapidly to the other end of the shed, and kneeling above a big, flat stone which apparently served as a hearthstone for an open grate, he pressed some sort of mechanism. Instantly, before their astonished eyes, the stone swung open, revealing a flight of steps.

“A secret passage!” cried Tom, while the others uttered exclamations of astonishment.

“That’s right,” said Zeb, with a grin, “and the best of it is that there are only two persons on this island that knows of its existence. One’s me, and tother’s Bully Banjo. We made it in case a revenue should drop in here some day. Then, d’ye see, all we would have had to do would have been to herd the Chinks through it and bring ’em out in the brush half a mile away. But we never thought that we’d have to use it to get away from our own men.

“By the way,” he said, gazing about stupidly under the pain of his wound, “where is Sim Lake?”

“I’ll tell you about that later,” said Tom, “the thing to do now is to get away. You go first, you know the way.”

Led by the wounded man they plunged into the dark abyss, the professor’s boy whining a little at the idea of descending into the dark, damp place. Tom came last, and he closed down the big stone behind them.

The passage was fairly commodious, and walking single file and slightly stooped it was not long before they reached the end of it and emerged in a clearing in the brush.

Looking around they could see behind them the red glare of the fire and the figures of the mutineers about it.

“They little think what a march we’ve stolen on them,” chuckled Tom as he gazed.

“I suppose the cold-blooded rascals are waiting for us to appear, or to see the shed cave in on us,” added the professor.

“Well, they will be disappointed this trip,” said Mr. Chillingworth, “but surely I am not mistaken. By some strange chance that passage has led us almost to the other side of the headland where we left the boat.”

A few seconds of reconnoitering proved that this was correct. They were, however, on the hillside above the headland, so that they could see down on the blazing building. It was not a great way to the water, and they soon emerged at the spot where they had left the boat. They found everything as it had been when they came away.

“Well,” said Tom, “I guess we had better get on board.”

“What is your plan?” asked the professor.

“Rather a desperate one,” rejoined Tom; “but it is the only thing I can think of. We can’t put to sea without provisions or water, that’s certain. Now, on the schooner we can find both. She is unguarded, and the only risk we run is being seen from the shore.”

“By Jove! that’s a great idea,” cried Mr. Chillingworth. “As for being seen from land, I don’t think there is any serious danger of that. Those rascals are all too busy about their own devices.”

“I agree with you,” said the professor. “It might even be feasible to sail the schooner out.”

Tom shook his head at this daring suggestion.

“We don’t know the water hereabouts well enough,” he said, “and might only pile her upon shore. No; my idea was to stock up the boat and then pull out to sea. We ought to be out of sight of the island by daylight. Surely we can either sight a steamer or the mainland by the time our provisions get low.”

With the Kanakas at the oars, and the wounded man lying in the stern, the boat was cautiously pulled toward the schooner. Tom’s plans went through without a hitch. The men filled six water kegs and selected all the biscuit and provisions they wished, Zeb Hunt helping them with suggestions as to the best stores to take. During this time Tom found a chance to tell him of the fate of Simon Lake. Hunt sank down on a coil of rope, his head in his hands, as he heard. He was genuinely affected, for he had been fond of his leader in his rough way.

“Poor Bully Banjo,” he said at length, rising to his feet. “It’s the way he’d have wished to die. But it’s sickened me of this business. If ever I get clear of here I’m goin’ ter live honest and clean. I’ve tried the other way, and it don’t pay. For every bad deed a man does he has to pay in just so many days of unhappiness – that’s been my experience.”

“I believe you are right,” said Tom, “badness never pays. It’s only men and boys who live right who are happy.”

Presently a soft hail from the professor apprised them that the boat was ready.

One by one they slipped down the Jacob’s ladder, which was always hanging from the schooner’s side when she was at anchor. Before many minutes had passed the boat, with her anxious passengers, had cleared the point and was being headed around the further point of the island toward the east. They knew that by keeping on in that direction long enough they would strike land. As they had provisions and water enough for several days on board they felt no anxiety on that score, and their hearts were light as they rowed through the darkness.

Before long the professor and Mr. Chillingworth dropped off to sleep. Tom and Zeb Hunt sat alone in the stern talking in low voices, while the two Kanakas rowed steadily as automatons.

All at once Tom gave a shout.

“Look! Look! A steamer’s lights!”

“Whereaway, boy?” came Zeb Hunt’s fog-horn voice.

“Off to the south – look, she’s coming toward us!”

“You’re right, boy,” growled Hunt. If it had been light Tom would have seen that a curiously anxious look crept over his companion’s face. The coming of a steamer meant to Zeb Hunt that he would be placed in irons and taken back to the United States to work out the penalty for his crimes. But he said nothing, and presently the entire boatload was watching the oncoming steamer.

As she drew closer Tom made out that she was a small white vessel like a yacht. Her lights glowed brightly, both from her portholes and on deck. Evidently her company was up and about. Perhaps they had sighted the fire on the island, which was casting a blood-red glare on sea and sky.

“Ship ahoy!” hailed Tom suddenly as the vessel drew closer.

“Ahoy yourself!” came an amazed voice from the foredeck of the vessel, “who the dickens are you?”

“A crew of castaways!” rejoined Tom. “Throw us a line, will you?”

But now another voice struck in from the strange vessel’s deck:

“Tom! Oh, Tom!”

“Jack!” cried the amazed lad, recognizing his brother’s voice.

“Hooray, we’ve found them!” came another voice, that of Sam Hartley. “Hooray, my lads! Three cheers!”

They were given with a will while the small boat was rowed alongside the larger vessel. A gangway was lowered and a perfect bombardment of questions began to rain down. It was impossible to answer them all, but in the babel the rancher recognized the voice of his wife.

Well, there is no use trying to give the details of the scene that ensued when the castaways were all safely on the deck of the big steam yacht – for such she was – and the small boat was towing astern.

In the first place everybody talked at once, and Mrs. Chillingworth laughed and then cried, and then cried and laughed again. It was the most joyous reunion the high seas had ever witnessed. And through it all only one figure stood apart – that of Zeb Hunt. Presently he slipped away and made his way to the stern, where the boat with her provisions and water on board was towing along.