“Flash your light up,” he directed. “Where are we?”
Kent played the light around him, and they saw that they were in an old quarry. The rock walls gleamed in the faint light of the flash.
“A quarry!” Barry cried.
Kent played the light down toward the ground, and they saw a small shed. “There is shelter, if we need it,” he began. At that moment the flashlight slipped out of his hand and fell into the snow. “Doggone it,” he grumbled. “I dropped the light.”
Both of them stooped to search for it and then paused as they heard a sound near them. Someone was approaching, and they felt a great relief as they realized it. Neither of them spoke, and a moment later a light flashed out, evidently from a flashlight. The beam rested on the shed, and the boys waited to see the face or form of the one who held it. But they were destined to be disappointed. A hand came into the center of light and turned the knob on the shed door. The hand was sheltered in a black glove, and that was all that they saw of the person who opened the door of the quarry shed. The light was instantly extinguished and the door slammed shut. They heard a key turn in the lock.
“Wonder who that was?” Kent asked. He had found the flashlight, and they both stood up and tried to see things more clearly.
“I don’t know. Funny he didn’t hear us or see our light.”
“The wind is too loud for him to have heard us. Seems as though he should have seen our light. Going to ask for some help?”
“Of course. We don’t know our way, and we need to have someone tell us. We’ll knock on the door.”
Approaching the small quarry shed, Barry knocked on the door, and they waited. The wind still blew strongly, and the flakes drifted down into the abandoned quarry. No answer came to their summons, and Barry tried again. They listened with growing impatience.