Sam and Bill Driscoll stood under a leaning streetlamp, their eyes assessing the quiet town. "This place is perfect for our plan, Sam. Quick in and out,"

The duo watched Johnny Dorset from a distance, his red hair vivid in the dusk as he threw rocks. "Hey, little boy! Want some candy?" The boy's response was swift—a rock aimed perfectly at Bill's eye.

Johnny, now dubbed "Red Chief," perched proudly, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Ha! Paleface, you dare enter Red Chief's camp?" Bill winced, rubbing his leg. "He fights like a wildcat, Sam. I’m Old Hank, his captive now,"

Bill awoke to Johnny sitting on his chest, knife in hand. "Sam, this boy's a terror. No one will pay for him, will they?" "Parents love kids like him, Bill. Just hang in there," Sam replied, observing the tranquil town from the mountaintop.

Sam[/@ch_1] walked towards Poplar Cove.] In the post office, whispers of the missing boy buzzed around. Sam mailed the ransom letter, confidence waning as evening approached.

Sam[/@ch_1] returned with Dorset's reply.] Sam read aloud Ebenezer Dorset's counter-offer. "We pay him $250? Sam, it's worth it. Another night with this kid will drive me mad," Bill pleaded.

Johnny clung to Bill's leg, wailing as they approached the house. "How long can you hold him?" Bill asked, desperation in his voice. "Ten minutes should do," Sam assured, already envisioning their escape through the night.