The G-man's son at Porpoise Island

AFTER the interview in Mr. Nevens’ den at which their fate had been sealed so far as Nevada was concerned, the two boys were hustled to the waiting room in which Stanley had been confined not so long ago. It was Gallagher who took them there and strange thoughts were running through his mind as he firmly held the two lads. He was pondering the irony of a fate that demands that a man be ordained the executioner of his own boy. And he was solemnly assuring himself that before that deed was to be done he would wipe out Nevada, Dago, and the entire rotten gang if he had to do it one by one and on his own authority!

Stanley walked bravely along, confident that his resourceful father would prevent harm from striking him. John Tallman, too, felt better even though Cowboy wanted their lives, for he was sure that Mr. Sandborn would find some way to save them. Indeed, both boys were less concerned with their own physical safety than they were with how this case would turn out. The future looked pretty dark at that moment!

Once in the small waiting room, which was now fitted with stacks of ammunition and several machine guns, showing the provision Cowboy Nevada was making for the expected attack by Hegarty, Mr. Sandborn whispered encouragement to the boys.

“We’ll lick this whole rotten crime syndicate, boys,” said he. “Don’t worry. You keep your chins up and you’ll be o.k. I’ll stall till dark for time and at dark I’ll arrange to take you boys out with Butch in one of the speedboats as if to drown you. I haven’t figured out the rest yet but I’ve a hunch Butch is going to end up at Main Haven, our prisoner, and that the F. B. I. will have this situation well under control shortly afterwards!”

“What about the plans of the Chief to nab Hegarty and Cowboy both the night of the attack, Dad? That’s to-morrow, you know!”

Mr. Sandborn smiled.

“Part of the success of the F. B. I. is due to its ability to meet a situation as it arises. The boys are ready to close in any time I tip them off!”

Mr. Sandborn then gave a cue for silence as Butch was heard coming down the tunnel to relieve Gallagher.

“Take care of these kids, Butch,” Gallagher said; “and watch out fer them. They’re pretty tough kids!”

“I’m scairt to death already, Gallagher!” roared Butch. “Dago’s the man for this job. Why he’d be sick at the thought of it. When he has nightmares it’s on account o’ dreamin’ of these kids here!”

Alone with the boys Butch ordered them to sit on a bench along the opposite wall while he regaled himself with cigarettes and the only easy chair in the underground room. Bluff, sloppy, big-mouthed, Butch would hardly have been recognized as the mean and wanton killer that he really was. His carefree attitude was really a mask to hide the fact that he was a haunted man, expecting any time the bullets that would put a period to his underworld existence.

“So you’re the kids as scare Dago!” he muttered, grinning. “Where’s yer bows and arrows?”

That was just what Stanley and John were wondering. Probably back in the bushes from which the boys had been yanked awhile ago! If only they had those bows and arrows now and a second of time to draw back on the bow strings! Escape they knew they must for, although they felt sure Mr. Sandborn would be able to prevent them from getting hurt, yet they knew that that might also prevent the working out of the F. B. I.’s plans to get both Hegarty and Nevada! They could not sit idly back because they seemed checkmated, and just wait for some one to come along and free them!

“I guess our bows are gone for good,” said Stanley to Butch. “And things don’t look so good for us, either!”

Butch continued to grin.

“Dyin’ ain’t any fun, eh?”

“Mr. Nevens wouldn’t really hurt us, would he, Butch?” asked Stanley innocently.

“Naw,” said Butch. “He don’t like to kill kids, not with guns. He’s partial ta fryin’ them in oil!”

This outburst of humor called for a big laugh; so Butch enjoyed his own joke to its fullest.

“Well, blow me down!” observed John. “And cook me for a sweet potato! By all the chinks in far Hong Kong! ‘Sweep the floor, oh, Sally dear, for father’s comin’ home!’”

He would have gone on in that characteristic manner, half singing, half talking, but Stan stopped him, amused at John’s excited remarks, in spite of the tense situation.

“You don’t think up them sayings all yourself?” queried Butch. “Now, do you?”

“Serve the coffee piping hot and sally down the forepeak, Tim!” began John again, in deep disgust while he glared at Butch with eyes that spoke volumes.

“How does that go?” Butch asked. “Say, say that again, kid, that was a good one!”

But John had lapsed into a forlorn silence which was broken now and then by a slight muttering. Stan leaned back, trying to think of a way out of their predicament and Butch, after staring at John as if he were something on exhibition in a zoo, began to nod and blink sleepily. He yawned and gaped profusely, slid down further in his chair, and half-closed his eyes. Dago might be frightened by two kids, but Butch had no misgivings! Unfortunate Butch——!

After Marzonij had left the harbor at Zenith, Hegarty waited impatiently for sunset before ordering the anchors up. He knew that it would have taken an hour or so for his henchman to contact Nevada and he did not want to get to Porpoise himself till nearly dark. As a matter of fact, it was nearly dark before the Sea Hawk moved in towards Black Cove.

And by that time the entire situation on the island had changed. Marzonij had contacted Cowboy, informed on Mr. Sandborn, it being dusk then, and had climbed into his boat to leave the cove, while Wan Ho Din looked on, when some one up on the west ridge began firing with a tommy-gun! Thinking the shots were intended for himself, Marzonij lost no time in getting under way and roaring through the channel into the semi-darkness outside.

But what had really happened was that some one in a machine gun nest on the ridge had spotted one of Hegarty’s men from the Malcon. The swift Malcon had anchored in the cove on the west end of the island, where the Staghound had moored before, and had sent men ashore as the land move of the Hegarty attack. These men had received orders to locate the gun nests but not to be seen; but one of them had made a mistake——!

Creeping through the underbrush towards the spot where they had been forced to abandon their weapons, the G-man’s son and John Tallman lay frozen as they listened to the rat-tat-tat of machine gun fire.

“Braid my dog’s great whiskers!” whispered John, “the fight’s on!”

“We’ve got to find our bows, John. Sooner or later in this scrap we’re going to need them! It’ll soon be too dark to find them!”

They moved on, hoping they were not moving into any zone of fire!

“I have to laugh every time I think of Butch’s face when he opened his eyes!” chuckled Stan. “He sure was a surprised man!”

“You’d be, too,” said John, “if you’d gone to sleep with a couple of kid prisoners and then woke up to find yourself bound and gagged! We had to work fast, though, didn’t we?”

Stan nodded.

They had indeed worked fast when Stan gave the signal as Butch slept late that afternoon, tying his arms swiftly with rope and gagging him with a knotted handkerchief. Butch’s circulation might be sluggish in the wrists for a while, so tight were the cords, but at least he wouldn’t be getting free of his bonds!

“Whoops!” came Stan’s joyous half-yell. “Here’s my bow and yours! And our arrows!”

They recovered their weapons, drew deeper into the shrubbery and considered their next move. By now the air was tingling with gunfire and the shouts of men.

“Apparently so far Hegarty’s men are attacking from the west end of the island, John,” Stan said; “but it’s pretty certain he’ll get his boats into the cove shortly and so strike at the heart of Nevada’s fortress!”

“Blazing torches of light!” cried John. “Let’s not stay here gabbing. What can we do to help?”

Stan grinned at the impetuous John.

It was fairly dark now and Stan was glad of the small pocket flashlight he had. The boys could best help by finding Holmes and his men and asking for orders.

“We’ll find Holmes and get our orders!” he said. “Let’s go!”

Since Holmes’ boat and one or more men were likely to be in the cove where the Staghound now lay at anchor, the boys slid along through the bushes, cutting swiftly across paths, avoiding known machine gun nests and tunnel entrances, and so maneuvering for the dash down the path to that cove. It took some time and the darkness was alive with the noise of the fight! But they made it safely and soon reached the shores of the cove. There they found their rowboat where it had been hidden, and hurried out to the sloop. Some one challenged them as they drew up to the sloop.

It proved to be a G-Man left aboard the sloop to help protect it from intrusion by snoopers from the island.

“What’s the row up there?” inquired the Federal agent tensely as the boys climbed aboard.

“Hegarty’s men are attacking to-night!” cried Stan. “Where’s Mr. Holmes?”

“I wish I knew!” said the man emphatically. “It’s no joke—hello! Who’s there?”

The last part of his remark was addressed to the darkness from which came the sounds of a boat’s engine powerful and low!

“Agent Holmes!” came the reply in a clear quiet voice. “Hegarty has pulled a fast one and we’ve got to get reinforcements!”

“What about Dad?” demanded Stanley suddenly. “You’re not leaving him alone in this fight, are you?”

Mr. Holmes grinned in the light of the cabin lamps as he came down from the cockpit.

“Certainly not! Your father will be quite able to take care of himself, unless I miscalculate his ability, but I’m leaving two men up on the ridge to watch for him and aid him if they can. In the meantime—to Main Haven we go for more men!”

“Think we’ll be safe here in the cove till you get back, Mr. Holmes?” queried Stanley.

The agent nodded, “I believe so.”

He climbed back into the G-boat and it shortly hummed out of the cove into the starlit night, headed for Main Haven, and for the numerical strength of the law to defeat the plans of the underworld! Both Stanley and John thrilled as they lost track of the white water about the racing boat.

“They’ll be in Main Haven in no time!” Stan said. “And I hope they get back twice as fast! I’m nervous about Dad! Hegarty’s anxious to get him!”

“Thumping blazes!” snapped John, snatching up his bow and arrows. “What’s keeping us here?”

Stan grinned and blew out the cabin light.

“Took the words right out of my mouth, John,” said he. “Let’s go!”

Fifteen minutes later, as they were coming up over the highest rise and in sight of the battle, the boys gave cries of astonishment! The entire ridge of the cove was lined with darting flames of light, and the apex of those flashes was a spot in the cove in which the Sea Hawk, dimly outlined by her own gunfire, was giving battle to Nevada! Two other moving black shadows were sliding into the cove now, spitting steel and fire! The Malcon and the Canton, having discharged part of their crews to surround the spot from the land, were now coming to the aid of the embattled Sea Hawk.

In the meantime, at Main Haven, the racing G-boat had summoned aid. Wires were humming with the news. The Chief himself had dictated crisp orders! Men were appearing instantly as if from the ground itself. From barber shops, boat yards, and the grocery store, came men who had worked for a day or so now as common working men but who were highly trained law officers awaiting this very summons!

They came on the run, adjusting automatics in holsters, unleashing hand machine guns, checking the fuses on tear-gas bombs! Waiting boats appeared as if from the water itself, trim, speedy craft, with trained men ready to handle the helms! From points along the coast other swift boats put out, too, and, within a half hour, Porpoise Island would not only be surrounded with wary and swift boats waiting for escaping underworld craft, but the beaches on the island would receive corps of G-men, each a crack shot, each capable of effective single-handed combat, each determined to capture the criminals alive or die wiping them out!

They had taken Alvin Karpis, Baby-Face Nelson, Dillinger in their stride, and a host of other public enemies! They had trimmed the sails of Hogan and Brennan! They loved the law and the right and hated the rats who tried to undermine and destroy the sacred common rights of mankind! And they went up the hills of Porpoise Island that night eager for combat, brave, strong, resourceful!