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Submarine Boys on Duty

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<h2 id="id00584" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER VIII</h2> <h5 id="id00585">A SWIFT STROKE FOR HONOR</h5> For the space of a few moments Dan Jaggers stared at the money clutched in his hands in a way that betrayed the extent of its fascinating hold upon his mind. Then he glanced down at his unconscious uncle. "Ugh!" he grunted, giving that prostrate form a slight but contemptuous kick. "If I hadn't done something like this you would. Oh, ye-eh, there's honor among thieves, but it's no good trusting to that honor. Every man for himself, in the woods!" One more gloating look the shaggy young bully took at all that money, before thrusting it deep down in a pocket and pinning the opening securely. "Don't ye wish ye was me, with all this money to have a good time on?" he demanded, jeeringly, of Jack Benson. "But maybe ye've framed up some kind of a yarn that yer boss, Farnum, will be willin' to believe. If ye hain't, then mebbe ye'd better never git close to him again." Dan Jaggers again turned his attention to his overcome uncle, kneeling beside the ex-foreman and watching his face closely. And then a strange thing happened, or so it would have seemed, had Dan Jaggers possessed eyes in the back of his head. For Jack Benson likewise his chum had striven many times through the night to free their wrists of the cords that bound them. Jack was the first to succeed, at a cost of hours of effort and thinking. He wriggled one hand out from under the knots just as Dan turned for that last look at the prostrate man. How fearfully numbed Jack Benson's wrists were, after that long spell of being tied up. Yet the boy knew that he must quickly restore circulation there and get his hands ready for use before it was all too late. It must be one swift, decisive, conquering stroke for honor's sake. Jack's trembling right hand went into one of his trousers pockets. He found his clasp-knife, yanked it out, opened one of the blades, and Hal Hastings, who had been watching every move with breathless interest, now rolled noiselessly so that his chum could reach the rope that held him captive. In another twinkling Hal was free. Just then, Jaggers, fancying he heard some noise in their direction, turned slowly. By the time Jaggers had them within his range of vision each boy was lying as before, his hands behind his back. With a heartless chuckle, Dan turned back for one last look at his uncle. Jack rose, almost fearing to breathe. Hal started to follow suit. There was some swift stealthy toe-work. Just as Dan Jaggers turned more sharply Jack Benson hurled himself through the air, catching and clutching at his enemy's neck. Both rolled over together, Dan, with his greater strength, fighting like a panther and bear in one. It was Hal Hastings's chance. As he darted forward he espied a serviceable-looking stick on the ground. He snatched it up with a single breathless swoop, then poised himself over the struggling fighters, stick uplifted. Down came that slender cudgel, striking Dan a light blow squarely top of his head. "O-o-ow! Help! Quit that!" screamed Dan Jaggers. "Lie still, then," commanded Hal, sternly. "And let go of Jack, or I'll use this stick for I'm worth." Brave enough while he thought he had a good fighting chance, Dan cowered under the menace of that club. He submitted to being rolled on his back, pleading: "Don't club me! I'll be quiet." "See that you are, then," ordered young Benson, kneeling on his opponent's chest. "Remember, Dan, that there are two of us. We mean to win, no matter how ugly a fight we have to put up." "Want the gag that you threw away when you jumped up, Jack?" asked Hal, with a delighted grin. "No; we don't need to gag him. Jaggers, roll over on your face, and don't you dare make any attempt to get up," ordered the submarine, boy, rising from his prostrate foe, while Hastings stood ready to use the stick. Dan obeyed. Jack took the slim cudgel from, his chum, who, at a silent signal, slipped back and picked up some of the slashed cord. There was enough of it to accomplish the tying of Jaggers. "See here," whined Dan, "you're not going to take me to Dunhaven?" "We're going to get that money away from you, and take it to its rightful owner," retorted Jack, tersely, as he commenced to tie the knots, while Hal held the cudgel conveniently close to the bully's head. Dan, however, had hardly a thought of making any fight. Jack, alone, was nearly a match for him. The two churns, acting together, could overcome him easily enough at any time. "Oh, I'll give up the money," promised Dan Jaggers, willingly. "Thank you," returned Jack, dryly. "However, we'll take it ourselves—and right now," he added, as he finished tying the knots about Dan's wrists. The rifling of Jaggers's pockets brought to light all of Mr. Farnum's money except the five dollars Dan had spent in Dunhaven the night before. However, the boys' own money, that had been taken from their pockets, and which was now found in one of Owen's vest pockets, made up the full sum of eight hundred dollars. "You fellers win, and I lose a good time," muttered Dan, mournfully. "But say, now you've got the cash again, set me free before ye start for Dunhaven. Don't leave me tied up like this." "We won't," Jack promised him, grimly. "We'll take you with us." "Not to Dunhaven!" screamed the bully. "Even to Dunhaven," mocked Hal. "But they'll send me to jail," protested the scared wretch. "Well," insinuated Benson, "can you imagine any other place that would be as suitable for a fellow of your kind?" "You fellers promised me ye wouldn't take me to Dunhaven, if I stopped fighting," whined Jaggers. "We promised you nothing of the sort," retorted Jack. "Now, come. Up on your feet with you!" The two submarine boys raised the now whitefaced bully, who was still pleading and protesting. Dan refused to start at the word, but a few sharp cuts across his legs by Hal made the fellow change his mind. "I reckon your uncle will stay until he's called for," laughed Jack, as they started. "Anyway, the matter of greatest importance is to deliver the money to Mr. Farnum before it goes through any more mishaps." "I tell ye, tain't right to make me go along an' be sent to jail," declared Jaggers, earnestly. "Ye've already done me harm enough, and got me outer my job." "If you haven't head enough to know the difference between getting yourself into all your troubles, and our doing it, there's no use arguing the matter," retorted Jack, quietly. "Get along, now, for we don't mean to have any nonsense. We've got to get through in time to send someone back for your uncle.", Despite the vigilance of both boys, Dan lagged all he could. As he came nearer to the seaport village his despair and rage increased so that he several times halted and flatly refused to stir. At such times Hal had to use the stick with increasing severity. At last, with a violent wrench, Jaggers, with his strong wrists, managed to snap the cords upon which he had already made many efforts. "Now, see here," he defied them, waving his fists in the air, "mebbe ye think ye're goin' to take me with ye, but ye won't take me inter town alive!" Retreating, he crouched against a tree, waving his fists before him. Jack and Hal lost no time closing in with the bully, but he drove them back. The boys were not prepared to do their enemy serious bodily harm; Dan, on the other hand, didn't care what he did, so the odds seemed almost in his favor. "Clear out, an' leave me to take to my heels, an' I'll call it square," he shouted, hoarsely. "But, if ye try to fight, then don't blame me for anything that happens to ye. I won't go to jail, I tell ye! I'll die, sooner!" Jack, with his fists up, worked in as close as he could, trying to get in under the big bully's guard for a clinch, so that Hal Hastings could finish the work of successful attack. Dan, fighting with the fury and strategy of desperation, kept them both off fairly well. While the opposing forces were so occupied there came down a path out of the woods, behind the tree against which Jaggers was backed, a third boy. About sixteen years old he appeared to be. He wore patched overalls, a frayed flannel shirt and a much-used straw hat of the field variety. His hair, once brown, had many streaks of reddish tint in it, from long exposure to the sun. His face was brick-red from the same cause. His rather large hands looked rough enough from hard labor. But he had frank, laughing eyes and a homely, honest look. Moreover, he had the air of one who could be swiftly alert. All this Jack Benson noted as soon as he caught sight of the newcomer. "Hullo, there!" called Jack, pausing. "This fellow is a thief, and we're trying to get him to town. Help us to get him, will you?" "Want me to look behind me, an' then ye'll jump me, hey?" leered Dan Jaggers. "That won't work." The newcomer grinned broadly, then shot forward. Ere Jaggers could change his mind he felt himself clasped from behind, a pair of strong hands joined over his windpipe, his body thus bound securely to the tree. "He—help!" sputtered the victim of this attack. "We're bringing it to you," laughed Jack, leaping forward. In a twinkling, now, the three boys had Dan Jaggers down, and held so closely that he could not stir. Benson produced another length of cord, and Dan had to submit to having his wrists lashed, this time in most workmanlike manner. "Thank you, ever so much," acknowledged Jack, looking up at the new boy. "Oh, you're welcome," laughed the young stranger. "I know Dan Jaggers, and I'm willing to believe anything against him." "I'll live to get square with ye for this, one o' these days, Eph Somers!" growled the captive. "Oh, take your time about it, Dan," laughed Eph, unconcernedly. "I'm patient, you know, about such things. In fact, I come of a patient family." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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