The Grammar School Boys of Gridley Part 22

"Let's all hurry and get in there," proposed Tom Reade.

"Nothing like it!" rejoined d.i.c.k. "Wouldn't it be fine if we all crawled in there and Dexter and Driggs really happened to be in the neighborhood? They might come along and pen us all in there! Tom, you and Harry will have to stay outside on guard--and keep your eyes wide open."

"Hazelton can keep his ears wide open," suggested Reade. "His ears are the generous, wide-open kind, anyway."

d.i.c.k had already thrown himself on his knees, and, holding the lamp ahead of him, he crawled in as fast as he could over the rough, rocky floor of the tunnel.

Dave Darrin was right behind the leader. Third in line came Dan Dalzell, who comforted himself with the thought that, if d.i.c.k and Dave encountered anything dangerous, he (Dan) would have loads of time to crawl out again before the danger could a.s.sail him.

For more than a dozen feet the tunnel ran irregularly into the rock.

Suddenly d.i.c.k uttered an excited shout.

"Whh-a-at's the matter?" almost chattered Dalzell. "What's. .h.i.t you?"

"There's a regular cave here," d.i.c.k called back. "A fine, big place!"

At this moment Dave, too, straightened up as he stepped into the cave proper.

"What's going on in there?" Tom Reade called in through the tunnel.

"Stay where you are," Dalzell called back, "and don't let us get bagged in here by any one."

Then Dan straightened up on his feet and took several curious looks about him while d.i.c.k flashed the light.

"Say, this is bigger'n a barn in here, only not so high!" gasped Dan.

"I wonder why n.o.body ever knew of this dandy place before?" mused Dave.

"And the air's good in here, too."

"The air's good enough," d.i.c.k a.s.sented hurriedly. "But what we came here for was to see whether we can find Greg. Come on, fellows--be quick."

"This leads to nothing, after all," sighed Dave Darrin at last.

"There may be other parts to the cave that we haven't found yet,"

advanced young Prescott. "Now, halt, everyone! Quiet! Greg?"

d.i.c.k's voice echoed in the place. Away off in one corner something seemed to be stirring.

"What's that?" asked d.i.c.k quickly.

"Time to beat it!" muttered Dan. "We've disturbed some animal that lives here."

"Sh!" ordered Prescott, holding up one hand. "Greg!"

Against their ear-drums came again, rather faintly, the sound of something moving.

"If you're Greg, you keep on making the noise until I locate you," urged d.i.c.k. "Fellows, you stay right where you are. Don't move."

Once more that sound of something moving came to the boys, and d.i.c.k, on tip-toe, moving softly, ranged toward the direction from which he believed the noise had come. As d.i.c.k moved away from them with the light, Dave and Dan found themselves in comparative darkness.

"If that's you, Greg, keep on making all the noise you can," directed young Prescott, as he neared one of the jutting ledges of rock.

A distant snort came as though in answer.

"If that's you, Greg, you can do it again," cried d.i.c.k in a low, eager voice. "If it's you, do it just four times."

Then d.i.c.k halted, realizing in the stillness that he could hear his own heart beating rapidly.

Again came the snort--one, two, three--four times. Then it stopped.

"Dave! Dan!" quivered d.i.c.k's voice. "Come running! It's Greg."

There was a sound of running feet--then a thump. Dave Darrin was still coming, but Dan had tripped over some little obstacle and had fallen flat.

"Hold on, there, you two!" howled Dan. "I've hurt my knee. Wait until I reach you."

But Dave and d.i.c.k paid no heed. Once more they had heard the snorts, and had made a dash for a low ledge of rock, from behind which they believed the sounds to have come.

Then both young leaders of the Grammar School boys gave a joyous whoop, mingled with dismay.

CHAPTER XII

THE BOY WITH THE OAk.u.m TASTE

"Hustle, Dan! We've found him!" rang Dave Darrin's voice, echoing through the rock-bound s.p.a.ces.

"Greg, old fellow, you've had us worried," gasped d.i.c.k Prescott, sinking to the stone floor beside his friend.

Greg lay on the floor, tightly bound hand and foot, a gag of oak.u.m stuck in his mouth and securely held there by cloth tightly strapped in place.

"Get your knife open, Dave, while I hold the light," ordered d.i.c.k.

"We've got to have Greg free at once. See how white and sick he looks."

Slash! Dave cut away the gag first of all, picking out all he could of the gag.

"Ugh!" sputtered young Holmes, spitting out shreds of oak.u.m. "You bet I'm sick!"

"How do you feel?" d.i.c.k asked anxiously, as Dave rolled Greg over and began to cut away the cords at the lad's wrists.

"Sick!" muttered Greg. "Sick of the very taste of that oak.u.m stuff. Did you ever eat any oak.u.m?"

"Can't say that I did," laughed d.i.c.k merrily, now that he knew at last that his chum was safe.

"You haven't missed much," growled Greg.