Part 11 (1/2)

”Oh, you can't escape us.”

”Not much, he can't,” put in another, and now Jerry felt sure that the speaker was Wash Crosby.

”We'll talk about that later, Crosby.”

The masked boy started back and denied his ident.i.ty. But it was plain to see he was much put out.

”I know you, Peters, Crosby, Banner and Graves,” went on Jerry. ”And I'll discover who you other two fellows are before I leave here, too.”

”Fiddlesticks!” shouted one of the boys by the fire who was stirring the tar.

”Is it getting soft?” asked Crosby.

”Yes.”

”Where is the brush?”

”I've got it,” spoke up another, and he held up the stump of an old whitewash brush.

”That's all right.”

At a signal from Peters the crowd of masked boys withdrew to the side of the fire.

Here a long talk followed. It was so low that Jerry could not hear a word.

Peters was making the crowd solemnly promise that they would not inform upon each other, no matter what happened.

”If we stick together, Upton can prove nothing,” he said. ”He has no witnesses.”

”Right you are, Si.”

”We want to get square, and this is the chance of our lives to do it.”

”We can give him the tar and feathers and then leave him tied up in such a fas.h.i.+on that he can get free, but not before we have had a chance to make good our escape and get home and to bed.”

”That's the way to fix it.”

”It will teach Lakeporters a good lesson,” put in one of the unknowns.

”My! but ain't I down on every one of 'em.”

”And so am I!”

”And I!”

”And I!”

In the meanwhile the young oarsman was trying his best to work himself free of his bonds. He felt that unless he escaped he would surely be tarred and feathered.

He tugged at the ropes around his body, and after a hard struggle he managed to free his left arm.