“Find anything?” called Bart, who was in the bunk room.
For answer Frank pointed to a long, straight crack in the floor, under the table. It was about a quarter of an inch wide, and was at right angles to the other cracks which appeared wherever the boards joined.
“I’ll bet that’s a sliding trap-door!” exclaimed Frank. “We must try to open it.”
At that moment a knock sounded on the door and a voice called out:
“If you boys will promise to behave and not cut up rough I’ll bring in some breakfast.”
“We’ll promise,” agreed Bart, his voice trembling slightly. “We’ll take the food,” he added in a whisper to his companions, “and then we’ll try to escape to-night. Don’t say anything to whoever comes in.”
The person outside proved to be a husky man with a big tray of food. Standing behind him in the passage were two other men, so there would have been little use in the boys making a dash for liberty. In silence the food was placed on the table, and without speaking the man withdrew, locking the door after him.
The boys waited until the footsteps died away. They were so excited over the prospect of escape they did not think of the food. Eagerly they looked for a knife. There were only spoons. Ned uttered an exclamation of disappointment, but Bart seized one of them.
“The handle will go into the crack,” he said. “Maybe we can shove the door back.”
He tried, but was unable to budge the slide, if it was one.