The light of the blazing huts now illumined the scene, and in the glow, Norton caught sight of Billy running toward them.  He hailed the lad with a shout: 

“Hi!  Hurry up, Billy!  Where have you been all this time?”

“Watching the fight!” shouted Billy, whose voice sounded doleful.  “Wishing I could butt into it earlier!  Come on, come on!  We’re chasing ’em!”

“Hold on!” Norton exclaimed loudly.  “We’ve had about enough of this.  Here we’ll stay, my boy, and let our better-armed friends capture the gang.  When they get to their boat it will be a case of ’first come, first served’ to get away.  Most of them’ll be caught and captured.  Meanwhile, it’s up to us to find Hugh.  He must be in that largest shanty there, unless-----”

“Come on!” yelled Billy, seeing his brother scouts already commencing the search.

He dashed over to the remaining shanty and flung himself against the door.

“Hugh, Hugh!” he called.  “Are you in there?”

No answer—–­only the roaring and crackling of the flames as they devoured the old walls and crumbling roof of the nearby abandoned dwellings.

“Hugh!” shouted Alec and Chester, banging on the door, while Mark ran around the cabin, looking in vain for a window or other means of entrance.

The door gave way and the three scouts rushed in, followed by Norton.

Dave stood in the doorway, his lanky form with the red glare of the fire behind it casting a grotesque shadow on the interior wall of the cabin.  He remained there on guard, lest any of the smugglers should return.

Alec struck a match.  Its sputtering flame lighted the single room, dispelling the shadows for a brief moment.  Anxiously they all peered around the dingy shanty.

“Hugh, where are you?” said Billy in a hoarse whisper.  “Are you here?  Can’t you speak?”

Still no answer.

Then Alec’s match went out.

“Have you another match?” asked Norton.

Like Billy’s, his voice was husky.  A vague dread seemed to seize him, weighing down upon him like a tangible thing.

“Yes,” said Alec.  “Here’s one more—–­the last.”

Again he struck a light and a hasty search was made.  Every moment was precious.

In vain.  The cabin was empty.

CHAPTER X

THE END OF THE RAID

At the beginning of the fight, Hugh wakened from a troubled sleep into which he had fallen, wearied with fruitless efforts to break the lock of the door.  One thought was ever in his mind, even in his dream:  to escape.  For this purpose he had clawed away a wide chink in the log walls, he had even dug under the threshold—–­without avail.

Nevertheless, he was glad to be active and thankful that he had been unbound before his captors went away, leaving him a prisoner in the shanty until they were ready to release him.  Joe Durgan had even been considerate enough to leave a half loaf of bread and a glass of beer on the table; but Hugh declined these delicacies.