“Good for you, Doughnuts,” cried Bob, joyfully seizing upon the soap box. “This beats playing the human footstool all hollow. Jump up on it, Jimmy, and see how quick you can get out of here.”
Jimmy needed no second invitation. He scrambled up on the tall box, and by stretching up on tip toe could just manage to get his fingers over the edge of the flooring above.
“Give me a boost, some one,” he commanded, and Bob obligingly administered the boost.
Joe was next. Bob went last, holding the trap door with his foot to keep it from closing too quickly. Once upon the floor of the barn he took his foot away and the door banged to with a snap, being balanced by a rope and weight above.
“Well, there’s that!” exclaimed Bob, eyeing the closed door with satisfaction. “If Cassey thought he was going to fool us long, he sure was mistaken.”
“Maybe he’s hiding around here somewhere,” suggested Herb, lowering his voice to a whisper.
“No such luck,” replied Bob. “I’d be willing to wager that the moment we struck bottom there, Cassey and his friends beat it away from here as fast as their legs could take them.”
“Don’t you think we’d better look around a little bit, anyway?” suggested Joe.
“It wouldn’t do any harm,” agreed Bob. “But first let’s have a look outside. We don’t want to overlook any clues.”
The boys thrashed around the bushes about the barn until they were satisfied no one was hiding there and then returned to the barn. They were curious to find out just how they had been shot through that trap door.