Sandy and Phyl were terrified by the sudden appearance of the rough-looking pair with their drawn revolvers. Tom and Bud remained cool, eying the men warily.  
"What's the big idea?" Tom asked.
 
"Shut up and hoist your mitts!" the bigger of the men snarled. As the boys obeyed, he muttered to his partner, "Keep these two punks covered, Mugs, while I take their cash!"
 
"Right, Packy! I'll watch 'em!"
 
Sandy and Phyl emptied their pockets. Then Packy took the boys' wallets and change.
 
"Now turn around and march!" Packy snapped.
 
Bud took the lead, followed by the two girls, with Tom bringing up the rear. They plodded up the brushy slope in silence for several minutes. Presently a weather-beaten cabin in a grove of trees came into view.
 
"You intend to hold us there?" Tom asked.
 
"You'll find out soon enough!" Packy answered. "We'll teach you to interfere with the Mirovs!"
 
The Mirovs! Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, the whole picture suddenly fell into place. It was clear to Tom now how the capture had been arranged.
 
The call to the jail from Dimitri Mirov had been a hoax. Its purpose had really been to get Tom away from Enterprises—thus giving the two thugs a starting point from which to follow him. The mountain hike, organized by Bud and the girls, had played right into their hands! As Tom sized up the situation, seeking a way out, the group reached the cabin.
 
"What are your terms for letting us go?" Tom asked their captors, stalling for time.
 
The man named Packy gave an ugly chuckle. "None yet," he said. "We may just decide to set the cabin on fire."
 
Sandy uttered a gasp as his words sank home. Phyl Newton had turned deathly pale. Packy now told his partner to unlock the cabin. Mugs stepped to the door.
 
At that moment Tom caught Bud's eye. It was now or never!
 
Tom whirled and smashed a stiff handblow to Packy's wrist, knocking the gun from his hand. Bud hurled himself on Mugs.
 
Taken off guard, the shorter thug staggered and went down under a hail of punches. Bud grabbed his wrist and twisted it mercilessly while he pinned him to the ground.
 
Mugs screeched with pain. "C-c-cut it out!"
 
"Then drop your gun!" Bud snapped.
 
Tom, meanwhile, had followed up his first advantage with a stunning blow to the solar plexus. Packy grunted for breath, then came back viciously with several well-aimed punches that staggered Tom.
 
As the young inventor stumbled backward, Packy dived for his gun. Though still groggy, Tom managed to kick the weapon out of reach. Before Packy could straighten up, Tom followed with a sweeping uppercut that caught him squarely on the chin.
 
Packy went down like a felled tree!
 
Tom picked up the gun before his groaning victim could recover. By this time, Bud had pounded his own opponent into submission. Within a few moments, both thugs were lined up against the wall of the cabin. Their wrists were tightly strapped behind them with their own belts.
 
"Oh ... thank goodness!" Sandy gasped.
 
Tom gave the girls a reassuring grin. "Are you two all right?"
 
"I g-guess so." Phyl gave a nervous smile.
 
Now that the tables were turned, it was the thugs' turn to "march." The boys herded them warily back down the hillside toward the road, where Bud had parked his red convertible. Sandy and Phyl followed close behind.
 
Like all cars belonging to the Swifts' key personnel, Bud's was equipped with a two-way shortwave radio. Tom switched it on and radioed Shopton Police Headquarters. Chief Slater promised to send a squad car at once.
 
Minutes later, they heard it approaching. Two husky police officers leaped out as the car braked to a halt, and took charge of the prisoners. Scowling and sullen, they were driven off to jail.
 
"Well," said Bud jokingly, "what about that relaxing hike we were starting?"
 
Phyl sighed. "I'm afraid you two boys just can't get away from inventions and adventures."
 
Sandy added, "I suggest we go home for a nice safe dinner."
 
............