Chapter XXV An Exciting Struggle
“I think myself that we’ve hung round this neck o’ the woods about long enough,” agreed Donegan. “And I ain’t any too well pleased to have that radio inspector snooping around the woods. He ain’t up to any good if you ask me. But brace up, Cassey, for this last haul. You ain’t generally chicken-hearted.”
“You’ll f-f-find that I have my n-n-nerve with me when the pinch comes,” replied Cassey. “I’d rather be k-k-killed by a bullet than g-g-g-go back to prison.”
The voices receded as the men went on, and soon the sound of their footsteps ceased. It was evident they were searching for the most advantageous place for the crime that they contemplated.
“I told you that I had a hunch that that villain would be here,” whispered Jimmy, when they felt that it would be safe to speak.
“Good thing, too,” said Bob grimly. “Cassey’ll get to-night what’s coming to him.”
Half an hour passed—an hour—an hour and a half. Then far in the distance the boys heard the hum of a motor engine and the rumble of a heavy truck.
“There it comes!” ejaculated Joe, throwing caution to the winds in his excitement.
The rumbling grew louder, and soon the boys knew that it must be close to the bridge. Then they saw the lamps of an auto truck sending out their beams of light a hundred feet in advance, and could just discern above them the massive body of the truck.
It came on at a moderate rate of speed, slowing up somewhat as it struck the bridge.
Suddenly shots rang out and the boys could see two dark figures standing on the bridge and waving their hands at the driver, as they bellowed out orders to stop. At the same time, as though the shots had been a signal, three other figures came rushing from other directions.
It was impossible for the boys to keep still, and they too sprang to their feet and started for the scene of the hold-up, running at the top of their speed.
Just as they left their covert there was a blinding flash that made the whole bridge as bright as day. A searchlight had been turned on from the top of the truck full in the faces of the robbers. They staggered as though they had been struck, and at the same instant there came a volley of shots and the police were upon the hold-up men.
There was a wild mélée of struggling men, as they swayed back and forth in a desperate struggle. The robbers had been taken completely by surprise and were outnumbered two to one. There were shouts and the crack of revolvers, and the thud of pistol butts.
But the battle, though fierce, was of short duration. In a few minutes the robbers had been subdued. One lay stunned on the bridge and another lay by him wounded. Two more were held in the grasp of officers.
One, however, tore himself away from the officer who had grappled with him, and came rushing in the direction of the radio boys. In the glare from the searchlight they recognized Cassey.
He saw them, too, and fired his revolver at them. The shot went wild. He pressed the trigger again but with no result. Then, realizing that his weapon was empty, he hurled it at Bob, who was nearest to him.
Bob dodged, and the next instant grabbed at Cassey’s legs. The expertness that had made him the star of his football team stood him in good stead. His arms closed round Cassey in a flying tackle, and they came heavily to the bridge together.
Cassey struggled desperately to rise, but Bob held him in an unbreakable grip, and a second later his comrades had come to his assistance and the scoundrel was overpowered and delivered over to the police, who came rushing up.
The robbers were securely bound and bundled into the auto truck that they had planned to rob. Then in high spirits the party drove back to Barberton. The chief was jubilant, and the praises he heaped upon the radio boys made their ears burn. They stayed long enough at his office to see the prisoners safely jailed and then, though the hour was late, rode back to their quarters in the woods with Mr. Brandon.
They slept long and late after their exciting experience, and it was almost noon the next day when they awoke. Bob was somewhat surprised to find a letter waiting for him. It bore no stamp, and had evidently been brought there by one of the lumbermen.
He opened it curiously and glanced at the signature. Then he gave a shout that brought his comrades quickly to his side.
“What do you think of this, fellows?” he cried. “Buck Looker’s writing to me.”
There was a chorus of wondering exclamations.
The last paragraph caught Bob’s eye and he read it aloud:
“As for Bob Layton and those other chumps, all we’ve got to do is to stand pat. No one saw us put the stones in the snowballs, and if we just deny it, they can’t pin anything on us. They’ll have to pay for the window, and that’ll even up things for what they did to us at Mountain Pass.
“Yours,
“Buck.”
Bob was utterly dumbfounded. Then he glanced at the heading of the letter and let out a whoop.
“Oh, this is too rich!” he cried, almost choking with laughter. “This letter is directed to Carl Lutz. You know he went home two or three days ago. Buck has written two letters, one to Lutz and the other to me—probably a roast—and he’s put them in the wrong envelopes. Oh, how he’s given himself away!”
Bob’s comrades were fairly convulsed, and Jimmy grew so purple in the face that they had to slap him vigorously on the back. They had scarcely got him into a calmer frame, before he threatened to go off again, for he saw Buck Looker strolling along the road.
“Probably’s come along to see how you were bearing up under the roast,” chuckled Joe.
Bob ran over toward Buck, followed by his comrades. Buck looked alarmed and put himself in a posture of defense.
“Oh, we’re not going to hurt you,” said Bob. “I only wanted to tell you that I got your letter.”
“I hope it blistered your hide,” growled Buck.
“It made me nearly laugh myself to death,” replied Bob. “But let me advise you, Buck, to make sure the next time that you get the right letter in the right envelope.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked Buck, in apprehension.
“Only that I got the letter you meant for Carl Lutz,” replied Bob. “Maybe you’ve forgotten what you said, so I’ll read the last paragraph,” and, dwelling on every word, he read it over deliberately.
Before he had quite finished, Buck made a desperate grab at the letter, but Bob was too quick for him.
“No, you don’t!” he exclaimed, as he folded it and put it carefully into his pocket. “That letter’s going to cost you about two hundred dollars, for that’s what it will cost to pony up for the broken window. We’ve got you dead to rights, and you’d better pay up and pay up quick. So long, Buck. And do be more careful next time to get the right letter in the right envelope.”
With all his bluster knocked out of him, Buck slunk away. The boys were not surprised to learn in the next letter from home that the insurance company had been paid.
“Some excitement we have had here,” remarked Bob. “Wonder if we’ll ever have such strenuous times again.”
“Sure,” declared Joe promptly, and he was right, as we shall see in the next volume of this series, to be called, “The Radio Boys with the Forest Rangers.” In that volume we shall see how they fought a fire that came close to ending tragically.
After a good dinner, the boys lay sprawled out on the grass basking in the spring sunshine and utterly at peace with themselves and the world.
“Well, it’s been hard work, but we’ve had pretty good luck at trailing a voice,” observed Bob.
“Yes,” agreed Joe with a grin, “and s-s-s-such a v-v-v-voice!”
And Jimmy whistled.
The End