Don’s groping hands encountered a wooden box on the floor of the closet. It seemed to be the same size as the one which had been in the garden that night, and as there was no other object on the floor or on the single shelf he was sure that he had at last come across the 1933 class trophy.
“I’ve got the cup at last,” he reflected. “Now, the big job is to get out of this house!”
Chapter 22
Direct Action
Terry and Jim ran with all the speed they could muster across the fields, believing that Don was close behind them.
But Jim finally realized that no one was close to them and he came to a halt, calling to Terry in a low tone. The red-headed boy stopped and joined him.
“Did we lose our pursuers?” Terry panted.
“Yes,” gasped Jim, gulping in the fresh air. “And I’m afraid that we have lost Don!”
“Isn’t he around?” cried Terry.
“No. I don’t know what has happened to him. I heard him pounding along after us and then I lost the sound. Maybe he just branched off in another direction.”
“Let’s give him the old signal,” urged Terry, puckering up his lips. He whistled in a low, penetrating note, the signal which had always been known to the three friends and which had been agreed upon before they had left on their night’s quest. The sound went across the fields but there was no answer, though they strained their ears to listen.