"Who are they really? What are they doing there?" asked Jane interestedly.
"Carter has not had time yet to learn much about them. The place was some sort of a health resort or sanitarium that failed several years ago. Last summer it seems to have been taken over by this bunch of Germans. At times there are only two or three of them there, but recently the number has increased. Carter thinks there must be a dozen men there now."
"How did he locate the place?" asked Dean.
"Carter is a real detective," said the chief enthusiastically. "He reasoned it out that where there were Germans there must be beer. He scouted along the main road until he found a wayside saloon where, as he had shrewdly suspected, they got their liquid supplies. From the proprietor of the place and the hangers-on he had no trouble in getting the information he wanted without arousing their suspicions."
"Where is Mr. Carter now?" asked Jane.
"He's waiting for us a few miles up the road."
"He has only four men with him, hasn't he?" questioned Dean.
"And there are four of us here."
"Three and a half," said the chief, motioning to Dean's bandaged arm.
"It's my left arm," he retorted. "I can handle a revolver, at least, with my good arm."
"And I can shoot, too," boasted Jane; "that makes nine of us."
"Nine of us against twelve of the enemy," said the chief thoughtfully.
"It looks like a busy evening."
"And don't forget," warned Jane, "that the Hoffs are coming up this evening. At least young Mr. Hoff told me this morning that he was going away this evening. That makes two more on the other side."
"And one of them," muttered Fleck, "a mighty dangerous man."