BIG TINY.

“If that don’t beat the Dutch,” Bob muttered as he threw the light from his flash about him.

There was the blanket at the foot of the tree but the boy had disappeared as completely as if the earth had opened and swallowed him. Bob was, for the moment, too dazed even to think coherently. That his brother would go off with no word to him when he knew that he was within a few feet was inconceivable. So far as he could see there was no sign of a struggle which would indicate that the boy had been surprised and carried off while he had been absent.

“All the same I’ll bet it’s the answer,” he thought. “Jack would never have gone off like this and not let me know.”

Then as the seriousness of the situation struck him his heart seemed to stop beating. If the liquor runners had captured the boy there was no telling what they might do to him. That their presence in the woods had alarmed the smugglers there was little doubt.

“There must have been two or three of them or he would have put up a fight that would have left some signs,” he thought as he hunted around for footprints or other signs of the intruders.

But the ground all about the tree was hard and dry, and covered with the dried needles of the pines, there was little chance of tell-tale footprints disclosing the direction they had taken. Suddenly a thought struck him and a moment later the shrill cry of the whip-poor-will rang through the night.

He knew that if his brother heard that call and if it were possible he would answer and he waited anxiously. But though he repeated the call several times no reply came.

“Either he doesn’t hear it or he can’t answer,” he muttered, “and I rather think it’s the latter. He couldn’t have gotten very far away in this short time.”

To hunt for him in the darkness of the night he knew would be the height of folly so, in spite of his anxiety, he did the only sensible thing. Taking his blanket he went a short distance through the woods and at the foot of a big spruce he rolled it about him, and after a brief but fervent prayer for his missing brother, he closed his eyes. But for a long time sleep refused to come. That his brother was in the power of ruthless and desperate men he felt certain.

“That fellow who was making the noise must have been acting as a decoy to get me away so that they could sneak up on Jack,” he thought. “And I sure fell into their trap beautifully all right.”

At last he fell asleep through sheer weariness but he was up as soon as the first glimmer of the coming day began to light up the forest. Almost the first thought which came to him as he got to his feet was that he had one of the pocket radios with him.

“Probably they have searched him and taken his set away from him,” he thought as he took the little case from his pocket, “but it won’t do any harm to make a try at it.”

Time after time he pressed the button sending out the call through the air. But no reply came and after a short time he gave it up. He made short work of breakfast and by the time he had finished it was light enough for him to see plainly. He at once began a thorough search for footprints. For a long time he searched and finally, just as he was about to give up in despair, he found what had escaped his notice in the darkness of the night.

The broken twig would undoubtedly have escaped a less keen vision but old Kemertok, Bob’s Indian friend, had trained him well to read the signs of the forest and but little escaped his eye.

“They’re slick all right,” he said to himself. “There’s no doubt but that they went this way but the big question is, did they leave a trail plain enough for me to follow. Oh, if Kemertok and his dog Sicum were only here. Then there’d be nothing to it.”

It was indeed a blind trail which they had left. The faint impression of a footprint here and a broken twig there were all that the boy had to guide him. Many times he lost it only to pick it up again after moments of searching which exasperated him as he felt that every minute was precious.

The trail was leading him almost due north into the wilds of Canada, and the going was getting harder the farther he went. This was to his advantage in a way as the denser the underbrush the plainer was the trail left by the party he was following.

By noon he estimated that he had made about fifteen miles. He ate a hurried lunch by the side of a small stream and before starting off again he sent out call after call with the radio. But he hardly expected results and so was not discouraged when they failed to materialize.

The trail was now fairly well defined owing to the thickness of the growth and he had but little trouble in following it. Rarely did he lose it and then it was quickly picked up again.

“If only they don’t strike a lake and take to a canoe,” he thought. “It would be like hunting for a needle in a hay stack if they did.”

By four o’clock the trail was leading him up the side of a high mountain densely covered with spruce and pine. As he ascended the underbrush began to get less dense although the trees were still so close together that he was able to follow the trail by the broken twigs.

“Guess they must have gone clear to the top,” he panted as, about half way up, he paused for a brief breathing spell.

An hour later he reached the top of the mountain. The trees had been thinning for the last hundred rods and just before he reached the top he saw, through an opening, a small cabin. It closely resembled the one he had seen the day before but was a trifle larger. Smoke was coming from the chimney, proving that the cabin was, or had lately been, occupied.

“Reckon I’ve got to the end of the trail,” he thought as he drew back and concealed himself behind a thick clump of bushes.

The cabin sat in a small clearing. There were no trees within twenty-five or thirty feet in front and on the sides but behind the trees grew so close that the branches of a big spruce reached over the cabin nearly to its middle.

From where he crouched Bob had a good view of the front of the cabin when he pushed aside a small bush. For nearly an hour he watched without seeing a soul. Then suddenly the door of the cabin was opened and Pierre Harbaugh stepped out followed by two other men. One of them was the man who had been with Pierre, when he had caught him, but the other he had never seen. Of this he was certain for the man once seen would never have been forgotten, for he was a veritable giant. Full six feet and six inches he stood and he must have weighed close to three hundred pounds Bob told himself, and he could see that there was no pound of surplus flesh on his frame.

“They sure grow ’em big up here,” he thought as he watched the man, fascinated by the gracefulness of his movements. “That man could throw a bull I’ll bet and not exert himself much at that. No wonder they got Jack away without a struggle. He would be but a baby in the hands of that fellow.”

For some time the three men stood near the cabin door. Bob could see that they were earnestly discussing something but, although he was able to catch a word now and then, he was too far away to get the drift of their conversation. Finally they went back into the cabin and closed the door.

“He’s an ugly looking brute though,” Bob muttered, and his heart sank as he thought of his brother in the power of such a man.

Jack was dreaming. He thought that he was on his father’s farm, just outside the village, helping the farm hands with the haying. He was on the top of a big load of hay when suddenly the rack tilted and went over burying him beneath the load. He struggled to throw aside the hay so that he could breathe but the act became more and more difficult. Finally his struggles woke him and he was conscious of a sweet sickish odor. For a moment he struggled to rise but was unable to move. Thinking that he must still be in the grip of the nightmare he ceased struggling.

“I guess he’s gone,” he heard a voice say and it seemed that it came from a long distance. Then oblivion.

When Jack’s senses returned the first thing he was conscious of was a dull throbbing pain in the back of his head. He was lying at full length on the ground. He tried to sit up but the pain increased to such an extent that he was glad to lie down again. It was so dark that he was unable to see even a few feet but as he lay and tried to reason out what had happened the sound of voices but a few feet distant came to him.

“You no tink you geeve heem too much, hey?” he heard.

“Non, heem be all right, ver’ queek,” another voice answered.

“We wait till heem can walk?” the first voice asked.

“Non, me carry heem. Heem no heavy for me.”

“Oui. Dat best way.”

There was the sound of men approaching and an instant later the boy was picked up as easily as though he were a baby. He feigned unconsciousness thinking that he might learn something about the intentions of his captors if they were not aware that he was awake.

The man who had picked him up threw him over his shoulder as though he were a sack of meal and strode off through the thick woods as though he were bearing nothing heavier.

“He must be a giant,” Jack thought as he noted the ease with which the man walked.

How they were able to find their way through the darkness of the forest was a mystery to Jack. Not once did they flash a light and seldom did they speak. Their sense of direction was almost uncanny. For fully an hour the man carried Jack not once shifting his weight and from his easy regular breathing the boy could tell that the effort must have been slight.

“I tink dat boy ought wake up,” Pierre declared as he stopped in the center of a small clear space. “Mebby you geeve heem too much, huh?”

The giant swung Jack to the ground not ungently and for the first time Pierre flashed the light from an electric torch on his face.

Jack lay perfectly still with closed eyes and tried to breathe as lightly as possible.

“Hees heart she go pat, pat,” the giant announced after he had pressed his ear against Jack’s breast. “I guess heem all right.”

“I put some water on heem,” Pierre said as he unscrewed the top of a canteen.

As the warm water trickled onto his forehead the boy thought that it would be the part of wisdom to come to life fearing that if he did not harsher treatment might be resorted to. So he slowly opened his eyes and uttered a low groan. The groan was not entirely faked for his head was still aching as though it would split.

“Where am I?” he asked in a low weak tone.

“You right here,” Pierre answered.

“But how did I get here?”

“Big Tiny, heem carry you. You no heavy for Tiny.”

“Of all the names,” Jack thought, “that takes the cake. Big Tiny. Well I guess by the way he carried me that he’s big enough.”

“You tink you can walk, huh?”

“I know I can’t,” Jack snapped. “My head is about ready to break. What did you give me?”

“Never mind. Tiny, heem carry you.”

At a word from Pierre, Tiny swung Jack again to his shoulder and they resumed their march. Just as day was breaking they stopped and ate a cold breakfast of bread and jerked meat. Pierre offered the boy a share but his head still ached and a slight sickness at his stomach made the thought of food repugnant and he refused. The Frenchman did not urge it on him and after a short stop they were on their way again, Tiny carrying Jack as before. The man’s strength and endurance seemed limitless, but after they had gone a short distance Jack, weary of being jounced about, declared that he thought he was now strong enough to walk.

With a grunt of approval the giant swung him to the ground and told him to walk in front of him. The pain in his head had nearly ceased and, although he still felt a bit sick at the stomach, the change from the jolting was a relief.

As often as he dared he reached out a hand and broke off a small branch as he passed beneath a tree. That Bob would endeavor to find him he had not the slightest doubt and he knew that if he succeeded in getting on their trail the broken twigs would serve to guide him. But after he had repeated the process several times he was forced to give it up. As he was reaching up to grasp a branch just above his head a slap on the side of his head sent him reeling into the trunk of the tree.

“You try dat one time more an’ mebby I keel you,” the giant hissed as he regained his balance.

Jack’s blood boiled at the blow but he knew that it would be the height of folly to endeavor to retaliate. So he made no reply but he broke off no more twigs.

Jack was about played out when shortly before noon they reached the top of a mountain and he was surprised to see a log cabin built on the highest point.

Pierre threw open the door and motioned for Jack to enter. There was but little in the way of furniture in the single room of the cabin. An old rusty stove, a rough table in the center of the room, four or five more or less broken chairs and three bunks built against one side of the room about completed the inventory.

“Better see if he’s got a gun on him, Pierre,” suggested the third member of the trio, a small slim man, evidently an American, who, up to now, had taken no part in their conversation.

“Dat bon idea,” the Frenchman agreed and proceeded to put it into execution.

He gave a grunt of satisfaction as he pulled the automatic from the boy’s pocket and Jack’s heart sank for he had determined to take a stand against them at the first opportunity and he realized that without the gun his chance of getting away was slight indeed unless he had help.

“What you call dis ting?” Pierre demanded as he pulled the battery and case of the radio from his coat pocket.

“That’s a telephone?”

“You talk wid heem, oui?”

“No wires here,” Jack evaded.

The reply seemed to satisfy the man for, without examining it further, he tossed it onto the table and paid no more attention to it.

Pierre’s search was thorough and everything which Jack had in his pockets was taken from him.

“Now you try geet away an’ you geet keeled,” he declared after he finished going through his pockets.

“But what is the meaning of this? Why have you brought me here?”

“Dat our beesiness. You keep mouth shut.”

Just then a faint buzzing sound same from the table.

“What dat?” Tiny asked looking about the room.

“I gess it one beeg blow fly,” Pierre replied as he took the lid from the top of the stove and set about starting a fire.

His explanation seemed to satisfy the giant for he apparently paid no more attention to the sound although it continued for some moments. But Jack knew that it was no blow fly. From somewhere off in the distant forest or near at hand Bob was trying to reach him by wireless. How he longed to pick up the instrument and reply. But he dared not make the attempt, and was obliged to let the call go unheeded.

In an incredibly short time Pierre had a substantial if somewhat primitive meal on the table and this time Jack needed no second invitation to eat his full share. As soon as the things were cleared away Pierre beckoned his companions to follow him out side.

“You stay here. No try geet away,” he ordered Jack.

Jack’s heart sank as he saw the little man pick up his radio phone and thrust it into his pocket before he followed the others from the cabin. As soon as they were all outside he began an examination of the room. It was lighted by three windows, one on either side and one at the back. But they were so small that he doubted his ability to squeeze through one of them even should the opportunity offer. There was no other egress from the room save the door and he knew that he would have no chance of escape that way. So far as he could see the situation was desperate provided the men meant him harm and of this he had little doubt. The windows were so high up that even by standing on his toes he was unable to see much from them.

His search completed he tiptoed close to the door and pressed his ear against it. He could hear the murmur of voices but was unable to catch even a word. Fully two hours passed before they returned to the cabin and then all but Tiny threw themselves on the bunks and, judging by their heavy breathing, were almost immediately asleep. Once Jack tried to engage his captor in conversation but he shut him up with a snarl and he did not try to repeat the attempt.

Slowly the hours passed. Big Tiny dozed in a chair but roused up every time Jack made the slightest movement and it was clear to the boy that he possessed the knack of sleeping with one eye open.

Jack was a brave boy and it took a great deal to frighten him but as he thought over the situation he admitted to himself that he was scared. He was well aware of the fact that these men would not hesitate to kill him if they felt that their safety depended upon it. He also knew that they were convinced that he and Bob were spies. The best he could hope for unless he succeeded in escaping, he told himself, was that they would hold him as a kind of hostage. He knew that Bob would try to find him but would he be able to follow their trail through the dense woods and would he be able to effect his escape should he find him? These were the questions which chased through his mind as the hours went slowly by. Two boys pitted against three desperate men made desperate odds indeed.

About six o’clock Pierre crawled out of his bunk and roused the little man. They at once left the cabin and were gone about a half hour. When they returned the little man set about getting supper. Evidently they were in the habit of taking turns at the culinary work, Jack thought as he watched the man.

“I’d like to know what they’re waiting here for,” he thought. “But they don’t seem at all inclined to tell me. We must be some miles from the border.”

It was only a little past eight o’clock when Pierre announced his intention of retiring for the night.

“What you going to do with the kid?” the little man asked. “One of us have to set up and watch him?”

“Non. I feex heem,” and going to a small closet at the back of the room Pierre dragged out about twenty feet of light but strong cord.

“I don’t see the need of tying me up,” Jack protested. “If you fasten the door so I can’t get it open there’s no way I can escape.”

“Mebby so but we tak’ no chance,” and the man proceeded to make good his statement.

Jack knew that to resist would only make a bad matter worse so he said nothing more but submitted without further protest. As the man bound the cord around his wrists and ankles he tensed his muscles to the greatest possible extent so that, although the man drew it with painful tightness, when he relaxed it loosened to a considerable extent. This accomplished Pierre next bound him securely to the back of the chair in which he was sitting.

“Now I tink mebby you stay put,” he declared as he stood back and surveyed his work.

“I think so myself,” Jack agreed, “but these ropes are going to get mighty uncomfortable before morning.”

“Oui, I tink so. You keep nose out of our beesiness no geet into trouble. No do so, must tak’ what you geet.”

“I guess that’s fairly good philosophy but not very consoling,” the boy thought as Pierre left him and crawled into his bunk.

Jack knew from past experience, for once before he had been tied up in a similar manner, that his position would be extremely painful before morning.

It had begun to get dark before Pierre started to tie him and soon he was unable to see even across the room. He had no way of telling the time but it seemed to him that several hours must have passed when he heard the call of one whip-poor-will.

“Bob’s here,” he thought.

Bob’s imitation of the bird call was so nearly perfect that probably not one in a hundred would have doubted its genuineness but Jack recognized the slight shade of pitch which his brother always put into the last note.

“If I only dared answer him,” he thought and he groaned aloud as he thought of his helplessness.

But it cheered him to know that Bob was near even though he doubted his ability to help him.

Several times the call was repeated and then a few minutes later Jack’s heart gave a bound as he heard a faint tapping near the window at the back of the cabin. Eagerly he listened. The sound was so faint that he could barely hear it but in a minute it became plainer. Yes, it was Bob and he was tapping a message in Morse.

“J-A-C-K I-F Y-O-U A-R-E H-E-R-E, C-O-U-G-H.”

Jack coughed as loudly as he dared.

“C-O-U-G-H O-N-C-E I-F Y-O-U A-R-E T-I-E-D.”

Jack coughed once.

“O-N-C-E F-O-R Y-E-S; T-W-I-C-E, N-O. C-A-N Y-O-U G-E-T F-R-E-E?”

Jack coughed twice.

“I-S D-O-O-R L-O-C-K-E-D W-I-T-H A B-O-L-T?”

Jack coughed once.

“W-A-I-T.”

It seemed to the boy that it was several hours before he heard the tapping again but in reality it was probably not much more than a half hour.

“N-O W-A-Y T-O G-E-T I-N B-U-T D-O-O-R? C-A-N YO-U S-L-I-P B-O-L-T?” Jack coughed twice.

“M-U-S-T C-U-T, W-A-I-T.”

It was a long wait for the door was made of inch boards and Bob had nothing but a jack knife with which to work, and as he could only guess at the location of the bolt it was necessary that he cut a hole large enough to admit his hand. Jack could hear him as he cut into the wood bit by bit and his heart beat with hope for he knew that Bob would do it if it could be done.

Then the tapping began again after fully two hours had passed.

“M-O-S-T T-H-R-O-U-G-H. C-O-U-G-H I-F A-N-Y-O-N-E M-O-V-E-S.”

Another long wait and then, when it seemed as though he must be nearly done he heard a movement in one of the bunks. Instantly Jack gave a loud cough.

The noise at the door stopped at once and he could hear one of the men getting out of his bunk. Jack’s heart almost stopped beating. What if Bob had the door cut through and the man should see it? The thought sent a shiver down his back. Then a match flared up and an instant later the light of a candle showed him that it was the little man who had awakened.

The man made a thorough examination of his bonds.

“I guess you’re all right,” he announced in a low tone.

“Can’t you loosen them up a bit?”

“Nothing doing.”

“All right, but I hope I get a chance to tie you up sometime.”

“Mebby you will. Who knows?”

“Can’t you tell me what you are intending to do with me?”

“You’ll find that out soon enough. What’s the matter with that cough of yours?”

“Nothing so far as I know. I thought it was working pretty well,” Jack grinned.

“Well, I wish you’d put a muffler on it. I sleep very lightly and the slightest sound disturbs me.”

“That’s too bad. Sorry I woke you up.”

“I’ll bet you are,” the man sneered as he blew out the candle and went back to his bunk.

For some time Jack could hear him moving about as if he were restless and could not get to sleep. He in a cold sweat for fear Bob would begin operations again while he was still awake and thus be discovered. He coughed two or three times hoping that Bob would hear and understand. But after what seemed a long time the man quieted down and soon after he could hear Bob at work.

Bob must have had his work nearly completed when the little man woke up for very soon Jack heard the bolt pushed back and a moment later the hinges of the door creaked slightly as it was pulled open.

“S-s—h,” he whispered fearful lest the slight noise would arouse the light sleeper.

Bob made no reply but a moment later Jack could hear him as he groped his way through the darkness across the room.

“Over this way,” he whispered.

In another moment Bob was by his side and had out the cords from his feet.

“Don’t make a noise,” Jack cautioned in a low whisper. “One of those fellows sleeps like a weasel.”

“All right, but let’s get out of here as quick as we can.”

Jack got up from the chair but sitting in the one position for so long a time had cramped his legs and as he was about to take a step toward the door he stumbled and fell against it and the chair tipped over making a noise which to the boys sounded like a house falling down as Jack afterward declared. How anyone could get out of a bunk so quickly was always a mystery to the boys, but almost before they could make a move toward the door the room seemed full of men.

Pierre was the first to strike a match and as it flared up Bob made a flying dive for his legs. It was a beautiful tackle and the Frenchman went down in a heap, the match flying from his fingers. Bob was on his feet before Pierre had a chance to grab him.

“All right, Jack,” he shouted as he made for where he thought the door was located.

But Jack was too busy just then to answer. When the match, which Pierre had struck, blazed up, the little man had caught a glimpse of him and had made a rush for him. The match went out just before he reached him but he was moving in the right direction and before the boy had time to dodge he had grabbed him. By this time Jack’s fighting blood was at red heat, and exerting all his strength, he succeeded in breaking the man’s hold and they fell to the floor together with Jack on top. The little man was, however, possessed of remarkable strength despite his size and he quickly rolled over on top of the boy.

Jack heard Bob’s shout but at the moment the man had a firm grip on his throat and he could not have uttered a sound had his life depended on it. Realizing that his strength was rapidly giving out he summoned every ounce he could muster and succeeded in tearing the man’s hand away. He was however unable to shake him off and had all he could do to prevent him from renewing his hold.

Meanwhile Big Tiny was stumbling about the room knocking over chairs and trying to get hold of someone. It happened that he ran into Pierre just as the latter was getting to his feet. Instantly he grappled with him and the next moment the two men were rolling over and over on the floor each striving to obtain a strangle hold on the other. Just then Bob, who had bumped into the stove and realized that he had been going in the wrong direction, threw the light from a small electric torch, which he had in his pocket, about the room. Seeing Jack’s predicament he sprang to his aid. He caught the man’s arm just as it was raised to strike Jack in the face, and with a quick jerk, he pulled him off.

“Jump for door, Jack,” he said and Jack lost no time in scrambling to his feet and obeying.

He reached the door in safety and dashed out into the open never dreaming but that Bob was close behind. Bob was close behind his brother when he reached the door but just as he was about to follow him through a powerful hand seized him and dragged him back into the room.