By this time the rank smoke had begun to ooze up through the floor of the old cabin. Doubtless there were plenty of gaping cracks between the puncheon boards to allow of a draught. Just how long the inmates could stand this sickening cloud was a question.
"Say! ain't this the real thing? Perhaps the sheriff would like to take a few lessons from our chum Bluff on how to smoke hams. Listen, will you! The poor guys are sneezing to beat the band. Keep up the good work, pard, and you'll force their hand. Get ready to cover 'em, Frank. I reckon something's bound to happen soon."
"Hey, you Waddy! Show up with the white flag, and we quit!" called Bluff from behind his refuge.
He was rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke, for while he had claimed to have escaped entirely, some of the splashing water had dropped on his skin and left an impression in the shape of a red mark.
"A white flag--that's the game! Might as well do it right while we're at it, boys. Come out, Waddy! We want you, and we mean to get you! Three more charges in this elegant pump-gun, and all for you. Do you surrender?" shouted Jerry.
It was happiness to Bluff to hear this scoffing sportsman chum of his thus praise the hitherto detested repeating gun, and he danced around almost recklessly, such was his delight.
But no more charges of scalding water belched out of that small window. Perhaps the two unfortunates within had all they could attend to trying to breathe in that sickening, smoke-laden atmosphere.
"Keep up the good work, Bluff. It's immense," encouraged Frank, who really believed that, after all, the other had hit upon a clever way to force a surrender on the part of the defiant hoboes.
Suddenly the energetic fireman gave a loud cheer.
"They shove out the white flag! They surrender! What d'ye think of my plan, now, fellows? There's Waddy waving it out of the window! Don't shoot the poor duck--he's pretty near all in, and blind with the smoke!" he whooped.
Perhaps the article that the boy tramp was waving wildly out of the small opening may have hardly deserved the name of white flag, but his intentions could not be doubted.
Smoke had won against stubborn grit, and the hoboes were ready to throw up their hands!