The Moving Picture Boys on the Coast, Victor Appleton [e book reader for pc .TXT] 📗

possible, picked up a bit of metal.

"What is it?" asked Joe.

"Part of their lantern," answered his chum. "It was made of black sheet iron, you remember. This piece may have fallen off when they dragged it through the bushes. We're on the right trail, all right."

"I believe you. But I wish it would turn on to a better path. It's no fun forcing your way through these bushes."

"It'll turn soon now," predicted Blake. "They only took this lead long enough to discourage pursuit. They didn't like it any better than we do."

His surmise proved correct and about five minutes later, having found other evidences of the passage of the wreckers, they came out on an open trail.

It was a narrow path, leading along in both directions from where they came out on it, and following the coast line, but some distance inland. There were evidences that men had passed in both directions, and that at no distant time, for footprints turned to both the left and right, as the boys emerged from the blind trail in the brush.

"Well, what about this?" questioned Joe, as he looked in silence at the tell-tale marks. "Which way shall we go, Blake?"

"To the right!" came the answer, almost immediately.

"What makes you say that?" asked his chum. "I don't see anything to show that they went to the right, any more than that they went to the left."

"Don't you?" asked Blake. "Look here, and remember some of the things our cowboy guide told us when we were after the Indians. Now you see footprints going off to the left and right from this point; don't you?"

"Sure."

"Well, do you happen to notice that on the left there are footprints coming back as well as going."

"Yes, I see that. But what does it mean?"

"And on the right side, counting from this dividing point, there are only footprints in one direction."

"That's so, Blake. But----"

"Now what's the answer? Why the men got here, and, thinking they might be followed, tried a simple trick. They doubled their trail."

"What's that?"

"Why, some of them went off to the left, walked on a little way, doubled, or turned, and came back, joining the others, who had turned to the right and kept on."

"Why was that?"

"Because they wanted to fool us. Naturally a person, not looking carefully, would see both lines of footprints, and would reason that the men might have divided, or that there might have been two separate parties. He wouldn't know which trail to take. He might pick out the right one, and, again, he might select the wrong one."

"And you say the right one is----"

"To the right. We'll follow that. If they think to fool us, or make us divide our forces, they're going to be disappointed. Another thing."

"What's that, Blake?" asked Joe, as he noticed his chum leaning over and carefully examining the marks in the dirt.

"Why, naturally they wouldn't go to the left, as that eventually leads to the lighthouse. They want to keep some distance from that. Of course they'd go to the right. And here's where we go after 'em. Come on!"

There was no hesitation now. Joe was as sure as his chum that the wreckers had gone farther down the coast, perhaps to some other high cliff where they could set up their lantern.

They followed the path. The trail was plain now, showing that a number of men had passed along. Footprints were the only clues, however, a number overlapping one another.

"What shall we do if we find them?" asked Joe.

"I--I don't know," answered Blake. This was when they had been following the new trail for about an hour.

"We can't tackle 'em alone, that's sure," went on Joe.

"No, but we can--Hark! What's that?" whispered Blake, suddenly.

They listened intently. Far off they could hear the roar of the surf on the beach; but, closer at hand, was another sound. It was the clink of metal. And then came the distant murmur of men's voices.

"Joe, I think we've found them," whispered Blake. "Come on, but don't make any noise."

Cautiously they crept forward, the sounds becoming more and more plain.

Suddenly they heard a loud voice exclaim:

"There! I guess that will do the business! And those fellows won't find us here!"

"That's them!" whispered Blake in Joe's ear. "I know the voice of Hemp Danforth. We've found 'em, Joe!"

CHAPTER XXI (THE CAPTURE)

Impulsively the boys clasped hands as they realized what the discovery meant. They had come upon the new hiding place of the wreckers, and the chances were good for capture if no alarm was given.

Joe, perhaps, felt more elated than did Blake, though the latter was glad that his theory in regard to the direction taken by the men had proved correct.

But Joe felt that now he had a better chance to prove his father innocent of the charge made against him--that he was involved with the wreckers.

"We've got 'em!" he whispered.

"Yes--we've got 'em--to get!" agreed Blake. "No slip-up this time."

In whispers they consulted, and decided to creep forward a short distance to make sure of their first surmise that the men, whose voices they heard, were really the wreckers.

"We want to be certain about it," warned Blake, in a cautious whisper.

"That's right," agreed his chum. "Go ahead, and I'll come after you."

Cautiously they advanced until they were in a position to look forward and make out a number of men working on a sort of mound of rock that rose from the surface of the cliff.

"This is a better place, from their standpoint, than the other," whispered Blake. "A light can be seen farther."

"Yes, and they're putting up the same lantern on a rock pile," remarked Joe. Both lads recognized the apparatus they had seen before. The men were busily engaged in setting it in place, evidently working fast to make up for lost time.

"It's the same gang," observed Blake; "and they must know of some vessel that is to pass here soon, or they wouldn't be in such a hurry. Probably they count on the steersman mistaking this light for the one at Rockypoint, and standing in close here. Up at Rockypoint there is deep water close in shore, but it shoals very fast both ways, up or down the beach. So if a vessel saw a false light, and stood close in to get her bearings, she'd be on the rocks in no time."

"That's right," agreed Joe. "She'd be wrecked and these fellows would get what they could out of her, caring nothing for the lives lost. Blake, we've got to stop 'em!"

"We sure have."

"Not only to clear my father, but to save others," went on Joe. "What's best to be done?"

"Well, we can't capture 'em by ourselves; that's sure," went on Blake, each lad speaking in a cautious whisper. "The best thing for us to do is to go back, I think, and tell Tom Cardiff. He'll know what to do."

"Maybe one of us had better stay here to keep watch. They may skip out."

"No danger. They don't know that we have followed 'em, or that we are here."

"Then we'll go back together."

"Sure, and give the alarm. Then to make the capture, if we can."

For a few minutes longer the eager boys looked on, unseen by the men whom they had trailed. The wreckers were busy putting up their lantern, and were making as much noise, talking and hammering on the apparatus, as though they were far removed from possible discovery.

"Well, we'd better be going," suggested Blake, after a bit; and they made their departure without causing any suspicious sounds, so that the wreckers had no idea, as far as our heroes could ascertain, that they were being spied upon.

In order to save time, as soon as they got to the nearest small settlement, Joe and Blake hired a carriage, and drove to the lighthouse. As may well be imagined their report caused considerable excitement.

"We'll get right after 'em!" cried Tom Cardiff. "I just got a telephone message from the secret service men that they are on their way here. They'll arrive in about an hour. We were counting on getting on the trail ourselves to-day, but you boys got ahead of us. So in about an hour we'll start. I guess they'll be there then; won't they, lads."

"I should judge so," was Blake's answer. "They've got quite a good deal yet to do to get that fake lantern in shape, and they don't seem suspicious."

"We can't have our life saving friend with us now," went on the assistant keeper, "as he is on duty, but I guess the five of us will be enough."

"Say!" cried Blake, with sudden thought, "if it's going to be an hour before we start we've got time to get our automatic moving picture camera, Joe."

"What for?"

"To get some views of this capture. It ought to make a dandy film, and we can set the machine in place, start the motor and then you and I can jump in and help catch these wreckers!"

"The very thing!" cried his chum. "I wonder I didn't think of it myself. Come on!"

"Don't be late!" advised Tom Cardiff, as they ran toward the ancient carriage they had hired. "We don't want any slip-up this time. I'm glad we're going to try for the capture by daylight, though, instead of darkness; it gives us a better chance."

Mr. Ringold and Mr. Hadley were surprised and delighted at the news the boys brought, but they voted against the automatic camera.

"This is a rare chance to get a film," said Mr. Hadley, "and we don't want to miss it. I'll go along with you, taking a regular moving picture camera, and while you capture the wreckers I'll make a film of it."

This suited the boys as well, and a little later, with the chief photographer, they started back for the lighthouse. They found the secret service men and Tom Cardiff waiting for them, and, well armed, in addition to the clubs they carried, and with ropes to bind the wreckers, they started off.

"We're almost there now," said Blake, in a whisper, when they neared the second hiding place of the desperate men. "Go easy, now."

"Let me get a chance to go ahead and place the camera," suggested Mr. Hadley, who had the apparatus fully adjusted.

"That's a great idea," declared one of the government men. "Taking their photographs in moving pictures! There'll be no chance for them to deny they were present when they were captured," and he chuckled grimly.

Mr. Hadley was given an opportunity to move forward alone. He found an advantageous spot and almost at once beckoned to the others to hasten.

"They're getting ready to leave!" he whispered, as they reached his side.

"Come on, then!" cried Tom Cardiff. "Jump in on 'em, boys. Lively now!"

As he spoke he leaped forward, followed by the others.

"Surrender! We've got you surrounded!" yelled the assistant keeper. "It's all over but the shouting!" and as he made a grab for one of the men the moving picture machine began clicking.

"Hands up!" ordered Mr. Wilton.

"At 'em, boys!" called the other government man, as he and Blake and Joe leaped to the attack together.

For a moment the wreckers stood as if paralyzed about the stone pedestal on which the false lantern was being built. Then, with one accord, the