CHAPTER XX Kidnaped

"What's that?" Don demanded suddenly, before they had made the crest of the hill.

All had heard the sound, or rather series of sounds, to which he referred; all stopped still to listen.

It was the steady, powerful chug-chug of a motor, and at first they thought it was another plane.

"Motorboat, but a fast one," said Jack, in expert diagnosis.

"Yes, and from the sound of it, coming this way," Andy added.

"We can probably see it from the brow of this hill," Fred suggested, and they continued the two hundred feet or more to the point indicated.

There they stopped to survey that surface of the sea which previously had been obscured. A motorboat was racing madly up the coast, toward where their hydro lay, and at sight of them one of the crew on the craft set up a loud shout and a frantic waving of his arms. Two others on the boat came to his side, as she changed her course with an evident intention of drawing up close to where the plane washed idly back and forth on the calm surface of the sea.

"Seem to want us," said Big Jack, "but surely we can't be on private property."

"Yes, they're coming ashore all right—six of them," Fred announced, watching them climb out of the powerful and speedy launch.

"May want to get their bearings," Jack suggested. "Well, we'll stroll back and see what they want."

They started back down the hill, and the six men again were obscured from their view. As the youths came past a thickly wooded spot, however, four of the men suddenly appeared, breathing heavily from having climbed the steep incline.

"You the mail crew?" the one who seemed to be the leader asked.

"Gosh, no," Andy, who was in the lead, responded. "We just got over from America."

"From America!" the leader responded in apparent great surprise. He gazed from one to another of the four lads, as though expecting some further explanation, and stuck his hands into his coat pockets, standing with feet apart, seemingly aghast.

"Transatlantic contest?" he asked finally.

"Not exactly," Jack answered, anxious to oblige. "Business of a rather private nature."

"Huh," the stranger grunted, his whole attitude and demeanor instantly changing. "Then I guess you're the young fellows we're looking for. Stick up yer hands." And he whipped out a vicious-looking revolver, while his three companions, also with guns drawn, covered Jack, Don and Fred.

"What's the—" Jack began, and looked behind them. The other two men had taken a different route, and without making a sound had crept up. They also handled revolvers menacingly.

"We're the welcoming committee," the leader informed Jack, in answer to his exclamation. "Must say you kept us waiting some time, too. We've been hanging around here for two whole days. Began to think we'd missed you."

Despite his complete familiarity with the English language, Jack detected that the man spoke with a decided accent. A moment later he addressed one of the others in what seemed to the lads to be a corruption of German and some guttural dialect.

"You were on your way up the hill," the leader suggested. "Going any place in particular?"

"No; only looking for some breakfast," Jack answered, believing it would be best to seem conciliatory. "Why the reception committee and this rather unusual welcome?"

"Believe you've got some papers on you we'd like to borrow for a little time?" the leader of the gang replied.

"Papers?" Jack repeated, as though mystified. "Cigarette?"

"No kiddin', friend," the man replied gruffly. "You know what we mean. We won't ask you to come across now. We'll wait until we get indoors."

They were by now approaching a great rambling and seemingly almost completely abandoned and dilapidated house, which stood off upon a bleak cliff where it looked as though the first stiff gale would carry it away.

"That's our destination—or rather, yours," the ruffian informed them, seeing the youths gazing at the wrecked remains of the old structure.

Jack managed to catch the eyes of his companions for a second when their strange captors were not aware. He gave a quick wink indicative of the fact that they were to leave leadership to him. All showed that they understood.

Surrounded on either side and the rear by the armed men, the youths approached what they suddenly realized was to be made their prison.

"Wait," commanded the leader, as they reached the door.

He stepped in first and took a position at the far side of the damp, dark room, and then commanded the others to enter, each under a guard.

"Now then," he exclaimed, "are you going to come across peacefully?"

Jack looked him squarely in the eye for fully half a minute, then deliberately winked, knowingly.

The leader regarded him with poorly-disguised surprise, then seemed to grasp his meaning.

"Here," he demanded curtly, indicating the way through another door, "I want to talk to you."

They passed into the other room, the revolver within a foot of Jack's head. Once out of sight of the others, however, and he smiled meaningly, leaning close to his captor and whispering, "Upstairs," at the same time nodding toward the stairway.

"What for?" the man asked, suspiciously.

"I know what you want," Jack responded. "I guess we can get along all right. No use letting the others in on it. Maybe I can tell you something in addition, if you make it worth while."

A gleam of cunning came into the man's eye. "Go ahead," he acquiesced, pointing toward the stairs. Then he went to the doorway again and said a few words to his fellow bandits in the same strange language he had used before.

Jack led the way up the rickety staircase, and, seemingly unconscious of the fact, went toward the extreme rear of the house. Without obvious haste he stepped into the rearmost room, and the leader of the band followed.

He was unprepared for what followed. With the speed of lightning he found his gun hand in one iron grip, while another was choking the breath out of him. Powerful as he was, he found himself helpless against the almost superhuman strength of the young giant he had sought to trap.

Slowly, surely, with irresistible force, Jack pushed him back, step by step, toward where a great bundle of old clothing and rags was piled into a corner. When he had got the fellow almost directly over this, he even more tightly gripped his throat, while at the same time keeping him in a position where he could not strike with his left hand, and then commanded, "Drop that gun!"

The man merely writhed in a fast weakening effort to free himself. Already his face was turning gray and his eyes were bulging.

"Drop that gun or you never leave this room alive," Jack breathed into his ear again.

The fellow twitched frantically, evidently measured the determination written upon Jack's face, and with what would have been a groan could he have made a really audible sound, he dropped the revolver so that it fell noiselessly upon the bundle of rags.

For several seconds more Jack held the other man in his killing grip, and then, just when he was about to lose consciousness, he released him, at the same time grabbing up the gun and placing it at the bandit's temple.

The fellow dropped weak and limp upon the heap of débris. Jack glanced about the room and could have shouted with joy. Several yards of rope with which the gang undoubtedly had intended to tie their prisoners lay coiled up in an opposite corner. He procured it, keeping the man covered at every second, and then approached him.

"Roll over on your stomach," he commanded. The man did as he was ordered. Hastily Jack felt all his pockets for trace of another weapon. Finding none, he commanded the man to roll over on his back, first having placed a part of the rope where his body would come. Working with one hand, the menacing pistol in the other, Jack then, with a few quick twists and knots, tied the fellow fast.

"Now call one of the others," he commanded of the bandit leader, dragging him to where he would not be visible to anyone approaching the door. "Call one, and only one; if two come I'll kill you instantly."

The man maintained a stubborn silence. Jack pushed the gun against his forehead. The man winced and drew back. The pressure of the gun was increased. Abruptly the fellow called out for one of his companions to step upstairs for a moment.

"Give the slightest warning and you're done," Jack threatened. As the second man could be heard coming down the hallway, Jack took a position along the wall, close to the door. Just as the fellow appeared the powerful fist of the young giant shot out with sledge-hammer force, catching the unprepared victim directly on the point of the jaw. He went down without a sound, and before he regained consciousness he was bound, gagged and thrown helpless into a dark corner.

Three times was this repeated, and then Jack, forcing a gag into the leader's mouth, so that no one could utter a cry of warning to the single bandit remaining on guard below, tiptoed downstairs and had that fellow covered with his gun before the man was aware of his presence.

He made as though to shoot, but Jack was too quick for him. He fired before the bandit could get his arm raised, and the bullet caught him directly through the wrist.

"Quick!" Jack ordered, snatching up the revolver which the wounded man had dropped upon the floor. "They may have confederates. We can't take a chance in wasting time around here."

At break-neck speed he led the way down the hill, along the shore-line and to the anchored motorboat. As Fred, who was last, jumped aboard, Jack started the engine, grabbed the wheel, and in two minutes they were racing out of the little bay at thirty miles an hour, leaving a great, white-capped trough in their wake.

It might have been twenty miles or so that they traveled along the shore-line, when they sighted a thriving town.

"Guess we can find a telegraph office here," said Jack, "and maybe we can get a train for Liverpool or Dover."

They ran the speed craft close up to one of the piers and jumped ashore.

As they did so their attention was attracted by a shrill whistle. Even as they located its source they saw two policemen hurrying toward them.

"You're under arrest," one of them announced as they came up to the four young men.

"For what?" Jack demanded, impatient at what threatened to be further delay.

"As spies in the employ of an enemy Government," the policeman answered, his hand near to the pocket containing his gun.

"You're wrong; we're Americans," the big leader of the four protested.

"That's a good one," the officer responded sarcastically. "Come along now, and tell it to the inspector in charge."

And despite their protests, and notwithstanding the fact that the fate of the world literally hung upon the passage of every minute now, they were led away to the police station and for two hours were held up there, submitting proofs and making explanations to show that they were, indeed, the special envoys of the American Government, and not the bandit gang which made its quarters in the abandoned house on the cliff.