“It sounded to me,” muttered Merry, “like the closing of a massive door.”
A moment later he struck a match, and by its light they looked around. Holding it above his head, it served to illumine the chamber dimly.
“Wherever did we get into this hole?” asked Brad. “I fail to see any door.”
The repeated lighting of matches seemed to show them only four bare walls. At last Frank found the door, but he discovered it was closed. More than that, he discovered that it was immovable.
“Boys,” he said grimly, as the match in his fingers fluttered out and fell into a little glowing, coal at his feet, “we are trapped. It’s plain now that we did a foolish thing in rushing in here without a light. That glimpse of Felicia lured us into the snare, and it will be no easy thing to escape.”
“Let me get at that door!” growled Buckhart.
He flung himself against it with all his strength, but it stood immovable. They joined in using their united strength upon it, but still it did not stir.
“Well, this certain is a right bad scrape,” admitted the Texan. “I don’t mind any a good hot fight with the odds on the other side, but I admit this staggers me.”
“What are we to do, Frank?” whispered Dick.
“Easier asked than answered,” confessed Merry. “It’s up to us to find some means of escape, but how we can do so I am not ready to say.”