I scrambled along, edging up toward the top of the bank, and when I got there I started to run along on the level ground. I couldn’t run very fast on account of the underbrush and because every little ways the rain had washed out gullies that I had to go around or jump over. I followed the shore of the river, keeping my eyes peeled all the time for a sight of Batten and Bill. There were so many trees between me and the water that I couldn’t see far; but I could watch the shore-line, as I went along, to discover if they had landed. After I got around the bend I went more carefully, for I wasn’t a bit anxious to have them know I was spying on them. I kept behind the clumps of sumach and suchlike shrubs that grew all along the hillside, wherever it was possible; and when it wasn’t I went back a few yards from the top of the slope, where I couldn’t be seen by anybody standing at the water’s edge.

It seemed I must have caught up with the boat if they hadn’t rowed faster than a horse can gallop, so I crept up back of a clump of bushes and looked down. I couldn’t see a thing. Nobody was in sight, and the woods were as still and calm-like as could be. There are places along the shore that look as if folks had never been there, and this was one of them. Cat-tails and reeds grew out into the river from the bank, and hazel and sumach and elderberry bushes filled in thick between the big trees. It wasn’t a swampy place exactly, though it was pretty soft and squashy in the spring when the water was high, but it looked marshy.

Where the boat had gone I couldn’t figure out, for from where I was now I could see a quarter of a mile down the river and quite a ways up and down the shore. The only live thing anywhere around was a red-headed woodpecker that propped himself up against the side of a butternut tree and pecked away like he was paid to do it by the hour.

“Huh,” says I to myself, “that’s funny.” I sat there scratching my head awhile, and then made up my mind to slide down the back to explore closer. It was steep there, almost dead up and down, but there were bushes and things to hang on to, so I didn’t think anything about it at all, but just turned around and started down crab-fashion, feet first and with my face toward the ground. Probably I was a quarter of the way down when I stepped on a loose bit of earth which went slipping out from under me. I grabbed out at a wild-rose bush, prickers and all, but missed, and went pell-mell, head over heels, down to the bottom, tearing chunks out of my clothes and scuffing off patches of skin.

When I landed bump at the bottom I lay still a minute to find out if I was busted any place; but there wasn’t anything wrong outside of scratches and bruises, so I sat up and looked to see just where I’d fetched up. I saw all right. Not more than six feet away from me were Batten and Bill a-grinning at me like a pair of Cheshire cats.

“Good morning,” says Batten, polite-like. “You come down a little sudden, didn’t you?”

I was so startled and mad I didn’t answer a word. I’d made a pretty mess of things for sure, coming tumbling right down into Batten’s arms that way. All they would have to do was just step up and grab me. That would mean that Mark would be left all alone to guard the cave, and it wouldn’t be any job at all for Batten and Bill to get him. They would just have to divide and come at him from different ways. If one man came uphill from below and another came down at the cave from above, what chance would Mark have? Not a bit.

I couldn’t even give him warning, for it was too far to holler. I felt pretty mean, I can tell you. I was a nice kind of a scout to send out, wasn’t I? To go sprawling right into the enemy’s hands the first thing!

Bill was laughing so he had to lean up against a tree, and Batten was standing about six feet off and grinning as mean as could be. It was evident they thought they had me safe, and I thought so, too; but nobody ever did anything without trying first. I couldn’t be any worse off if I tried to get away, and I might make a go of it if I was quick. I didn’t think about it more than a second, but rolled over and over a couple of times, leaped to my feet, and went a-kiting upstream toward the cave.

Batten let out a surprised yell and came jumping after me, with Bill right behind him, sort of barking at every step he took. I had started off so quick, and it took them so all of a sudden, that I got a lead of most twenty feet, which wasn’t enough by any manner of means. Two hundred would have suited me better.

I couldn’t climb the hill, the river headed me off on the other side, and so there was only one way for me to go, and that was right along the edge of the water. It was the best way, anyhow, because it was clearer of underbrush and shrubs. I stood a chance of beating them in a clear space, but they could push their way through bushes faster than I because they were stronger. I put my head down and ran.

Back of me I heard Batten and Bill floundering and plunging. They didn’t yell after the start—saving their breath, I guess—but just kept after me as fast as they could come. I didn’t know whether they were gaining or not; and I didn’t dare turn my head to see, for fear of tripping over something. It was pretty certain I couldn’t get to Mark, for that would mean climbing the hill, but I might tire the men out by running on straight ahead. Anyhow, if they didn’t catch me too soon I could get close enough to the cave to yell and warn Mark, and that was the chief thing to think about. “He mustn’t be taken by surprise! He mustn’t be taken by surprise!” I kept saying to myself over and over again.

Another hundred feet, and I would be around the bend of the river, where my voice would carry to the cave; and I made up my mind I’d get that far if I had to blow up and bust for it. I was getting tired, and my lungs hurt, and my heart was going as if it said, “Choke, choke, choke,” but I let out another notch and went faster than before. It was just a final spurt. A fellow always has that left in him, that last spurt. I never could understand it; no matter how fast you’re going, it seems as if you could go a little bit faster just at the last if it is necessary.

I was around the point now, and, sitting in front of the cave, I could see Mark Tidd, looking like a big fat statue. He was as still as if he had been a stone.

“Mark!” I screeched. “Look out, Mark! They’re after me!”

The next thing I heard was somebody smashing and sprawling onto the ground behind me. Either Batten or Bill had tripped—I don’t know which. That left only one man chasing me, and, somehow, it made my breath come freer and my legs work easier. Maybe it was what I’ve heard folks call “second wind.” At any rate, I kept on and on, until pretty soon the noise behind me got farther away and at last stopped. But I didn’t stop. Not a bit of it. There would be no stopping for me until I’d got a lot more distance between me and those men than there was now.

As soon as I thought I was safe I turned off to the left and scrambled up the hill. You can believe I was careful now. I crawled almost every foot of the way when I started circling back to Mark, but I got there at last. It seemed like a long time; but most likely it wasn’t more than fifteen or twenty minutes after Batten and Bill quit chasing me when I peeked over the brow of the hill down onto the cave. I lay there quiet, not making a sound, because it came into my head I might be more useful as a surprise party than if I went right down to reinforce Mark. So I scrambled around and filled my pockets with pebbles, to be ready when I was needed.

Batten and Bill sat down by the edge of the river getting back their breath. As soon as they were rested again they got onto their feet and started up-hill like they meant business. Mark stood up and took his sling-shot in his hand; and I tell you I was proud of him, the way he made ready to fight all alone without a soul he knew of to help him.

Before they came to the clearing the men separated. Batten came straight up, but Bill forked off to the right to do what Mark called “execute a flank movement.” He was going to come at the cave from the side while Batten charged from the front. It was a pretty desperate situation. Mark couldn’t shoot in two directions at once, and while he was peppering one man the other could sneak up and grab him from the back. I guess he figured he was licked, but that didn’t stop him from fighting to the last second. He was gritty, and no mistake.

“Hum,” says I to myself, “I’ll just give you a surprise party, Mister Bill.” So I slid down in the thick of a mess of hazel bushes, and from them behind a big boulder, always keeping where neither Batten nor Bill could see me, until I was almost over the cave. Then I sat back and grinned.

Bill kept wallowing up the slope, while Batten waited just below the clearing, out of range. When Bill was in position Batten yelled, and both of them dashed for the cave. Mark didn’t pay any attention to Bill. He figured it out, I guess, that the fight was about over, anyhow, and he’d devote all his time to making Batten sorry he came. And he did, too! The way he peppered that man ’most made me laugh out loud. But Batten kept on coming because he knew Bill was on the way.

Well, in about two minutes Bill came out where I could get a whack at him. I put a nice big pebble in my sling and aimed at his hat. Spat went the pebble, and off flew the hat, and Bill brought up sudden. He couldn’t see me, and kept looking all around to find out where the stone came from. The second he turned his head I let him have it again hard. He yelped.

Then I spoke soft to Mark. “Go for Batten,” says I. “I’m right here, and I’ll look after Bill.” I heard him chuckle.

“What’s the matter?” Batten yelled, savage.

“The other kid’s there somewheres shootin’ me,” says Bill.

“Keep on after him,” Batten says.

Bill started, but I stung him again, and he stopped. “Not me,” he says, and began edging away. Batten saw it wasn’t any use, so he turned and got out, too.

Then I slid down to the cave.

“They most got me!” says I.

“It l-l-looked that way when you was goin’ past,” says Mark. “My, but you can run!” His little eyes were twinkling away, and his lips were working like he wanted to laugh.

“Go ahead! Laugh!” I told him. “Where’d you be if I hadn’t showed up?”

Sammy’s little ax was lying out in front of the cave, and there was a pile of shavings by the door.

“What you been doing?” I asked him.

“Oh, just cutting out these things,” says he, and pointed to three or four pieces of sapling trunk about twice as long and thick as towel-rollers, over on the sand.

“Cuttin’ stove-wood?”

“Nope. Just thought they might come in handy,” says he.

I didn’t ask any more about them, because I saw right off he had some kind of a scheme; and when Mark has a scheme the only thing to do is wait till he gets ready to tell you about it. You could ask him questions all day, and never get a hint of what he was up to.

I went into the cave and looked around, casual-like. There was the engine. I couldn’t see it, really, because it was all covered up by the sheets; but I could tell it was there, and I felt pretty proud to think we’d been able to get it back. The thing now was to keep it, and so far we’d done average well.

I came out with a pail in my hand. “I’m thirsty,” says I. “I wonder if there ain’t some way to get a drink?”

“Wish there was,” says Mark, “but I don’t see how.”

“Maybe I could get up over the hill and around to the spring.”

“Better not try; you had enough bad luck last time you went away.”

Well, that made me kind of mad, so I started up the bank.

“Wait!” Mark called. “Lemme go! I’m all cramped up sittin’ here.”

I came back and gave him the pail, but just then we saw Batten and Bill moving around among the trees, so we gave up the idea of getting water and went on watch again. Mark stayed on the shelf in front of the cave, and I went back up above again where I hid when I took Bill by surprise.

I settled down, with my back against a stone as big as a bushel-basket, and made myself as comfortable as I could. The stone was right over the cave entrance, just sort of stuck into the dirt which held it where it was. It interested me, and I got up to examine it close—it would be the easiest thing in the world to pry it loose and send it bumping down the hill. I was going to do it just for fun; then an idea hit me. I would save up that stone right where it was. It looked to me like it could be made to come in pretty handy.

It wasn’t any good mentioning it to Mark, but I went down and borrowed Sammy’s little ax, which I used to cut down a tree as big around as my wrist. I trimmed all the limbs off it and laid it down alongside of the stone. Then I sat down and took it easy.

The sun was shining bright and warm; the sand was soft and comfortable to lie on; and a fine breeze was blowing that made you want to close your eyes and doze. It must have been close to eleven o’clock now, which meant we’d been up a long time. We’d been considerably busy since we got up, too, and I was tired and sore all over; so I says to myself I’d shut my eyes just a minute, but wouldn’t go to sleep. That was all right to say, but—well, the next thing I remember was Mark hollering at me loud as he could yell.

I sat up quick, just in time to see Batten dodge out from behind some bushes not more than thirty feet from the cave and come clawing toward Mark. I didn’t see Bill anywhere just then, but I had sense enough to turn around and look up the hill. There was Bill plunging down toward me.

For a minute it looked as though the jig was up, as Uncle Ike Bond says, but then I thought of that big stone and the lever I’d made to pry it with. I jumped for it, and dug it into the dirt. “Mark,” I yelled, “duck into the cave! Quick!”

I heard him scramble, and knew he was doing what I said. He wasn’t the kind to stop and ask questions in an emergency. When I yelled he knew I had a good reason, so he just did what I said.

Batten was right in line with the cave now where the stone would come smashing down on him, and the place was so steep he couldn’t get out of the way quick enough to dodge. I had him right where I wanted him, so I stood up and yelled.

He saw me, with the lever back of the stone, and let out a frightened squeak. His face got as white as a goose’s back, and he hung there to a shrub, too scared to move.

Bill was coming down at me, but he was too far away to do any good. I turned around to him and called: “Mister Bill, you stop right where you are. If you come another step I’ll heave this boulder down onto Batten and squash him. Don’t come another step.”

Bill stopped and looked, and when he saw just how things were he turned kind of green.

“Go on back!” I says. “Git a move on!”

He didn’t say a word, but just wheeled around and did as I told him.

“Now,” I says to Batten, “you git, too. I won’t heave it if you mosey along.”

He didn’t stop to argue, but rolled over and half slid, half fell down the hill. I never would have pushed over that stone. I couldn’t have done it; but, then, Batten and Bill didn’t know.

So far the siege had been going our way, but nobody had come to relieve us, and we didn’t know when they would. I’d have given my new jack-knife to have heard Uncle Ike Bond hollering back in the road.