CHAPTER XVIII

Thieves3 Campfire

edging forward on their knees and elbows, the boys tried to get a better look at the faces of the men in the flickering firelight. One of them, his back to the Hardys, addressed the others.

"This reminds me of the job we pulled in Sacramento," he said. "Remember that one, Hank?"

"Yeah. Only that time it was a lead-pipe cinch. We didn't have no wise kids gettin' in the way of grown men."

The others laughed at his sarcastic tone.

"Can ya imagine a coupla high school kids holdin' up a deal like this?" the first speaker went on. "Well, we don't have to worry about them any longer. Flint said he'd take care of 'em before he got here."

Flint! The boys' deduction had been correct!

"At least," Frank told himself elatedly, "we're on the right track now."

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144 The Secret of Wildcat Swamp

The man called Hank spoke again.

"Me an' Pete was in the Sacramento job together. Knocked off a carload of automobile tires that time. We got a nice hunk o' cash for 'em, too."

Another man broke into the conversation with a raucous chuckle.

"I remember readin' about that one. I was back in New York, workin' for the state."

"You? When in blazes did you ever work for the state?" charged another voice with a loud cackle.

"Sure I was! Makin' license plates in the pen!"

At that there was a general guffawing. Then the big man called Pete stood up, stretching noisily.

"Me, I'm gettin' tired of waitin' around here. The sooner we get at this job, the better. I want to put the grab on those pipes and drills and then blow outta here."

"Sure," another agreed. "The quicker we get hold of that stuff, the quicker we can set up the diggin'."

"That goes for me," Hank agreed. "Flint said Number 68's got three cars loaded with the last word in oil rigs. We'll be rollin' in dough in a few weeks, and by that time it'll all be on the level."

Joe prodded Frank and the older boy knew what he was thinking. The stolen rig was to be set up in Wildcat Swamp after the land had been taken from Mrs. Sanderson!

"There's one thing I can't figure out," Frank

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told his brother. "That government order for everyone to move out. Do you suppose these men don't know about it?"

"Could be. On the other hand, maybe that whole story was a fake to get rid of us."

"You mean that paper was a phony? But those rangers-"

"Phonies too!"

"In stolen uniforms."

Frank was about to say more when a sudden crackling in the woods startled him. Perhaps more of the gang was arriving, and the boys were on a direct line between them and the campfire!

Joe looked to Frank for instructions in this new dilemma.

"Too late to run!" Frank whispered. "Lie flat. Don't move!"

Face down in the undergrowth, they hugged the dry ground. The sound of heavy footsteps grew nearer. The newcomers passed the boys and approached the campfire. Conversation died abruptly. Frank and Joe looked up again momentarily, to see one of the men jump up, draw his pistol, and hurry away.

"Who's there?" he called, advancing to only a few feet from where the boys lay hidden.

Frank and Joe hardly dared to breathe until the challenger's attention was diverted by the two new arrivals who stepped into the firelight.

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"What's the matter with you, Sam? Jumpy tonight?" one of them asked, in a low, controlled voice. Better dressed than any of the others, he presented an almost distinguished appearance.

The man with him was big and broad-shouldered. Even from where the Hardys lay squinting through the brush, they could see him frowning darkly at the others who now clustered around.

Instantly Frank and Joe recognized both of the newcomers. They were the men who had escaped from the Green Sand jail!

The boys listened tensely.

"Okay, Flint," replied Sam, ramming his pistol back into its holster. "It's this waiting that gets my nerves." Then, turning to the others, he added, "Meet your boss, men."

Flint was received enthusiastically. All the gang were eager to get their new job under way and the arrival of the boss meant that time for action was at hand.

Leading his companion into the center of the group, Flint said, "Men, I want all of you to meet an old pal of mine-Jesse Turk. He's going to be in on this caper with us."

"Okay by me," Hank said approvingly. "There's gonna be enough dough for everybody."

There was a murmur of assent and sardonic smiles spread over the faces of the group.

"Right!" Flint added. "This job is a lead-pipe

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cinch. We had a little trouble getting rid of those Hardy kids. And then that fool fossil hunter-"

"What happened to him?" Hank questioned.

"He and the fat kid with him are tied up and hidden away in a cave-without food and water."

Involuntarily, the brothers winced at the thought of the gang's cruelty. Joe, in sudden anger, started to scramble to his knees, but Frank laid a firm hand on his arm.

"Take it easy, Joe. We can help Cap and Chet more by learning all we can here."

Though Frank had restrained him quickly, Joe's sudden movement had been heard by one of the men. A tall, hard-bitten member of the gang sprang to his feet.

"Boss, what was that over there? I swear I heard something move."

There was an ominous silence as the others listened too. The wind had died down and not a leaf stirred.

Suddenly the still night rang with a rasping laugh. It came from Turk, and his harsh amusement echoed through the woods. The rest stared at him.

"Flint, I thought you said you had men here!" he said bitingly. "These guys are nuthin' but a bunch of scared rabbits!"

There was an immediate and angry muttering among the group of thugs. Before it could develop into a fight, Gerald Flint stepped forward.

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"All right, knock it off," he ordered briskly. "You guys have nothing to worry about. Those snooping Hardy kids have frozen to death in a cooler car, and their old man is next."

"You got him too?" Hank smirked.

"No, but we heard where he is. This job'll be a cinch now."

His authoritative demeanor having eased the tension, Flint drew Turk and Hank aside in a private conversation, while the others began talking of the robbery plans. Taking advantage of the general chatter, Frank nudged Joe.

"Back out of here," he proposed in a whisper.

Joe nodded and began inching his way backward through the brush. They had to get away-had to get to Spur Gulch, find their father, and warn him.

They had moved about half the distance to the edge of the grove when they heard Flint's voice giving more orders.

"Enough talk, men! Time to get moving. We've got a job to do before we can pull the holdup."

To the boys' horror the men picked up flashlights and began to tramp through the trees in their very direction.

"They'll spot us this time," Joe groaned. "How are we going to hide from all of them?"

Frank's quick mind hit upon an idea. "Hurry! Up a tree!"

Rapidly, before the beams of the flashlights could

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reach them, he and Joe picked out two sturdy pine trees with low-hanging branches and shinned up into their thick foliage.

Seconds later the men pushed past beneath them and moved out of earshot.

"That was close," Joe muttered as they climbed down. "Now what?"

"It's better this way," Frank returned. "Now we can trail them."

Cautious at every step, the boys followed the gang, keeping well concealed. It was hard going without lights in the dark, cluttered woods, and their pace was slow compared to the men's.

Finally they saw the gang break out of the woods near the summit of the hill on which the boys had jumped off the freight cars. Beyond, the roadbed curved and descended in a long horseshoe.

"Let's go over there and watch," Frank said, pointing to a cluster of tall bushes down the track from where the men had emerged.

Halfway around the curve of the tracks, the thugs disappeared into the trees again. A moment later, when Joe was about to start after them, they reappeared, their flashlights bobbing as if they were carrying something.

"What have they got there?" Joe whispered.

"Looks to me like old railroad ties," Frank answered. "But what on earth-?"

His unfinished query was answered immediately

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as the men heaved the great dried-out chunks of wood onto the tracks.

"When 68 hits that pile of ties it'll be derailed!" Frank exclaimed. "Then the gang will rob the freight cars."

"They've made a whopping big pile," Joe observed. "They really don't need all that to-"

"Joe! They're setting fire to it!"

A bright flame licked at the tinder-dry wood and in no time it had grown into a crackling blaze.

"They're not going to derail the freight, just stop it," Joe remarked. "Frank, we must warn the engineer!"

The boys started toward the oncoming freight. But at this moment Flint stepped into their path and shouted:

"It's burning fine, men. Here comes that rattler. To your jobs!"

Splitting into small groups, his henchmen disappeared into the night and Flint himself hurried off down the tracks toward the freight.

"Now's our chance," Joe said. "We may be caught, but we ought to make a try."

"We'll certainly be caught if we go that way," Frank objected. "Let's see if we can push those burning logs away so the train won't have to stop."