All during the fight he crouched by the locked door, listening in alternate hope and dread of the outcome, now and then raising his voice amid the din and confusion outside.  It was perhaps not strange that none of his friends heard him, for his shouts only mingled with those of the smugglers and were lost in the general clamor.

But they were heard by one man, who, though not exactly a friend, was yet an amiable enemy.

In the midst of the conflict, when the Revenue Service men had arrived to turn the tide of fortune, the door was quickly opened and shut, and a man stood in the room, panting hard.

Hugh sprang to his feet, ready for any new emergency.

“What are you-all doin’ thar, youngster?” said a voice in the darkness, a deep voice which Hugh recognized as Durgan’s.

“Trying to get out, of course,” he replied defiantly, every nerve in his young body tingling with excitement.  “What did you expect me to do, Durgan?”

“Eh?  Oh, nothin’.  Thought you might ha’ gone to sleep like a good little boy.”

The man’s harsh laugh sounded hollow and unpleasant.  Hugh shuddered.

“I was asleep,” he said, “but when——­”

“Real unkind o’ your friends to wake you up, eh?” interrupted Durgan.  His hand stole behind him.  With a quick turn he opened the door, and admitted some one.  “Come in, Harry,” he said.  “The kid’s here, all right.  What did I tell you?”

“That so?” growled Harry Mole.  “Well, we know who he is now.  Somebody tipped off the officers about the run we was goin’ to make to-night; and since it wasn’t this kid, it must-a been one of his bunch.  Shall we heave him into the stream, Joe, or leave him here?”

“Not on your life!” Durgan replied promptly.  “He’s caught on to too much about us while he’s been here, and he can tell those ginks a lot that we don’t want ’em to know.  So’s long as we kin get out o’ here alive, we’d better take him along.”

“He spoiled our plans to-night.  He deserves to be knocked on the head an’ thrown out to the ’gators!”

“Spoilt our plans, you bet!  But he’ll get his, by-and-by.  Come, take him and hustle away.  Cripes! hear them bullets smashin’ into the wall!”

“Remember, kid,” said Mole, “if you shout or let out a word, we’ll stick a knife between yer slats.”

From the fierce way in which Mole uttered this threat, Hugh did not doubt he would do as he said.  However, he did not yield without a silent struggle, though he was soon overpowered by the two burly ruffians.  Each taking him by an arm, they led him outside and dragged him over a stretch of bumpy ground, stumbling along in the semi-darkness.

Scarcely five minutes after they left the hut and the two burning shanties behind them, Hugh’s friends burst into the empty cabin—–­too late to rescue him.

But these young, well-trained scouts lost no time in searching the place.  Separating into pairs—–­Norton and Mark, Alec and Chester, with Billy and Dave in advance, following Durgan’s and Mole’s trail—–­they formed a line of communication between the cabin and the site of the bonfire, hoping that by thus keeping a picket line they might catch sight of Hugh or his captors beating a hasty retreat toward the shore.