The Trap

The following morning the boys rose early. They had had a refreshing and restful sleep and they were now ready and eager to carry out their plan. William supervised the preparation of breakfast and each one of them had a hearty and satisfactory meal. Tom Woods, too, had by now sufficiently recovered to have a full meal. He even declaimed that he now felt as well as ever. But the shadows under his eyes and the paleness of his skin told a silent story of horrible torture.

The agent rose to his feet and stretched himself. He called Paul over and asked, “Do you mind lending that automatic of yours? And also the cartridges. I may have to use them.”

Paul surrendered the pistol and ammunition. Several minutes later, Wallace called out, “I’m ready, Mr. Woods, if you are.”

“I’m also ready, so let’s go.”

Wallace shouldered his knapsack and waving goodbye to the other boys who were busy breaking camp, he and the agent set off. As for the rest of the group, just as soon as everything was ready, they set off for their destination—their old camp ground, which they reached at about noon. After a fifteen minute rest, lunch was prepared. Paul then declared a thirty minute rest period, adding, “We have a lot of hard work ahead of us which must be accomplished before nightfall. So relax, then we will get to work.”

Ken was left behind to keep guard at camp and put it into order. The other boys set off, with the cave their destination. When they got there, Bobolink and Nuthin’ were stationed at strategic points to keep a careful watch. Paul, Jack and William hid in the shrubbery. Paul picked up several light stones and threw them at the door of the cave. Some moments passed. The boys, anxious and determined, breathed hard. Jack crept forward on his hands and knees and moving so that the door would act as a shield, he slowly and quietly opened the door wide. There was no one in the front compartment of the cave and the door was closed. Jack crept back into hiding and now Paul and William rose to their feet and stole quietly away. The two boys crossed the stream and came upon the shrubbery-hidden opening that led to the back of the cave. Paul crept in; William kept guard. In a short while Paul came out. “How does it look inside?” William asked.

“The place is just full of wooden cases and boxes. They must have been here very recently and we missed them.”

“That’s nothing. Since they have their baggage here yet, they will come back. If not today, then tomorrow or the next day. In the meanwhile, I’m going back to give Jack the word. Is that all right?”

“Yes. If you two get through with your job first, come and give me a hand.”

“Very well.”

William disappeared and Paul set to work. Jack was waiting for William to return and just as soon as he did, the two boys got busy in front of and around the cave. They worked arduously and quickly. Finally the boys were done and without hesitating or wasting a minute, they set out to help Paul whom they met on the way. “You have everything finished?” the latter asked.

The boys nodded. “And you?” queried William.

“All done.”

“Good.”

The boys returned to their camp. It was already dark when William appeared. “Well, did anything happen?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “And here?”

“Nothing.”

Early the following morning, Jack left camp. He walked at a steady rapid pace and in about three hours he arrived at the farm house. Wallace had told him that Tom Woods would meet him there. He searched for some sign of the agent and finding none, he entered the yard and crept stealthily along, aiming for a position which would keep him in hiding while he had a good view of the road and most of the yard. He gained his goal and stretched himself out on the ground, prepared to wait until the agent showed up. Suddenly he felt the presence of someone close to him. He bounded up from the earth, but Tom Woods grabbed him and pulled him down again. The man laughed. “It’s all right, boy,” he whispered.

“Whew! You certainly scared me, Mr. Woods!” Jack exclaimed, heaving a sigh of relief.

“Just a little foolish playfulness on my part,” the agent stated. “What’s the news from camp?”

“Nothing happened. The boys did everything they were supposed to and everything is ready to greet the gang.”

“That’s good. I have a faint suspicion that we won’t have to wait for them long either.”

“You think they’ll come today?”

“Most likely. Though I wouldn’t swear to it. Nothing is certain, you know.”

They lay there side by side and conversed in very low whispers. Woods questioned the boy about his home, his activities, his friends and all sorts of little details about his life. In return he told many anecdotes of his experiences. He possessed a very fine sense of humor and he twisted every story he told into a humorous narrative. He had Jack giggling most of the time.

It turned out that Tom Woods was wrong and nothing happened that day. Towards nightfall, he instructed Jack to return to camp, tell the boys to be ever on the watch and have Wallace come down the following morning. It was quite dark when he reached camp and he was so tired that after a sandwich he turned in for the night.

Wallace rose with the dawn and wasted no time getting set for his hike down the mountain. When he arrived at the farm house, Tom Woods played the same trick on him as he did on Jack. Side by side, the two lay in hiding and waited. “What did the boys do yesterday?” asked the agent.

“They kept watch all day long but nothing happened.”

“It will today,” asserted Woods.

All day long they lay in hiding and waited. It appeared as though Tom Woods was wrong again. But that did not despair him. He continued telling his humorous anecdotes and kept himself and his companion cheerful. The sun swung across the horizon. Noon came and passed. The hours dragged along. Towards five o’clock, the government agent suddenly broke off in the middle of a sentence; he became very alert. Wallace felt a cold chill run down his spine. Woods hurriedly whispered, “Don’t get excited. Stay under cover until I tell you otherwise.”

A car swung slowly in from the road into the yard. Behind the farm house, it stopped. Wallace whispered to his companion, “The one at the wheel—Bud, the stranger.”

Woods nodded. He held the automatic ready. As the car stopped, Bud jumped out and called back over his shoulder, “Just want to take a look around. It’ll take me only a minute.”

The agent crept away. Silently he tiptoed from behind the car. Coming close, he hissed. “One move or sound and you’re dead. Put up your hands.”

The gangster raised his hands above his head and moved to step out of the car. As he did so, he made a quick, wild move for his pocket. Woods swung, hitting the gangster an awful wallop on the chin with the butt end of his gun. The gangster let out a yell as he went down in a heap. The agent quickly crawled behind the car. Bud came running from around the corner of the house and hid himself behind a tree. He waited. Woods also crouched and waited, but became impatient and fired across the top of the car. No answer.

Wallace was still lying in the same position and eagerly watched the proceedings. He was anxious and excited. He wondered what he could do to help but he realized that for the present the best he could do was to keep out of the way and let the two fight it out. One of them, he thought, would surely never leave that yard alive. He only hoped that everything would come out for the best.

Bud stretched himself out on the ground and began to shoot wildly, combing the ground. A pause came as the gangster took time out to reload his gun. Tom Woods took the opportunity to make a dash of several yards and throw himself behind a pile of logs which he had set up for the occasion. He shifted his position for two reasons: one was that the car did not offer a good enough barricade and secondly to draw the firing away from the direction where Wallace was hiding.

A fraction of a second after he threw himself behind the barricade, a bullet buried itself in one of the logs. The agent answered it by sending a bullet that just skimmed the bark of the tree. Tom Woods waited. He was in a better position than his enemy. Safe behind his barricade, he also had an open view of the yard and gate and he could not be taken unawares by anyone coming from that direction. Of course, he might be surprised by someone coming from the mountain, but that was unlikely because he could, without endangering himself, frequently turn his head, and scan the outlying woods and farmland. On the other hand, Bud was in a precarious position. He had only one alternative and that was to flee. But to leave his safe position behind the tree was to invite a bullet from Tom Woods’ gun, which might be fatal. So he also settled down to watchful waiting. Now while the agent was in no hurry and had plenty of time, the gangster was anxious and in a hurry to get to the cave. Without doubt, the government agent had the advantage.

In the meanwhile, Wallace wondered what he could do to help end the situation quickly in favor of his friend. After Tom Woods took up his new position, he felt that Bud’s attention would be entirely taken up by the agent and that he was free to move away from his spot. Crawling on his belly, he moved slowly and gradually. Finally he came to a position that placed him to the rear and to left of the gangster. He picked out a good-sized stone and, rising on his knees, took careful aim and hurled the missile. Then he fell quickly under cover.

The stone missed its objective and bounced off the tree. However, it attracted Bud’s attention. The gangster turned quickly and fired twice in the direction from which he thought the stone came. In doing that, however, he exposed his arm up to his elbow. The next instant he let out a most horrible scream. The agent had sent a bullet through the gangster’s wrist. The pain was real but the intensity of the yell was a foil. The gangster bounded forward to recover his weapon which had fallen out of his hand. The next moment he uttered a deep cry and toppled over. A bullet from Woods’ gun had pierced his throat.

Suddenly everything was silent again. There was a long pause. Tom Woods lay behind his barricade and waited, while Wallace, in his hiding place, also did not move. When he thought it was all right, the agent came out from behind his shelter and called for Wallace to come forward but to be careful. First they attended the gangster who was knocked out by Tom Woods. The stricken man, at the first touch, moaned. The agent put his hand to the man’s jaw and the gangster bounded up as if he had been struck by an electric shock. Wallace whispered, “You must have cracked his jaw when you hit him.”

“Guess so. Give me a hand and we’ll carry him to the barn.”

Bud, lifeless now, was also carried to the barn. Removing the clothes of the two gangsters, the agent and Wallace donned them. Wallace looked a little ridiculous in his outfit but his companion fixed him up so that he looked all right. Finally, they tied up the wounded man so that he couldn’t escape, and tied a handkerchief over his mouth so that he could not cry out. The two came out of the barn. The agent held one of the automatics used by the gangsters and said, “Here, you had better take it boy. It may come in handy later.”

Wallace hesitated but finally he took it and put it into his pocket. They walked over to the car. All the windows were shattered and one tire was flat. Wallace said, “A couple of holes in the gas tank.”

Woods looked and then remarked, “We can plug the holes up; they are not at the bottom of the tank which is something to be thankful for. And we will have enough gas in there to make the ten miles.”

The two of them set to work. Under the front seat they found tools with which to remove the flat tire and put on the spare. Getting into the car, the agent started it up and they were off. Wallace showed him the road and Woods hurried to get to the cave. After a while, he laughed and asked, “Well, how did you enjoy the little shooting match?”

“I can’t say that I particularly enjoyed it. It’s too bad that Bud was killed.”

“I guess you’re right, boy. I don’t enjoy killing anyone either. But sometimes it just can’t be helped.”

“I guess that’s true, Mr. Woods. But it is too bad that it ever has to be done.”

“Well, when we get a better social system in which men and women will have no reason to be dishonest then there won’t be any shooting of anyone, I guess.”

Wallace had nothing to say, so he kept quiet. After a while, the government agent said, “When you come to think of it, you had more to do with the death of that gangster than I did.”

“How do you mean?” questioned Wallace anxiously.

“You threw the stone and forced him to expose himself.”

“Yes, but you did the shooting.”

“Of course, but—well, never mind. Let’s talk of something else.”

They rode along, the agent telling a cheerful anecdote while Wallace listened.