“Go to it, fat boy!” laughed Jerry, and soon Bob was in the kitchen with Hang Gow.
After one or two false turns the Motor Boys at last reached the vicinity of Echo Canyon. Then they made their way into it and, to their delight and surprise, found the reputation of the place had not over-stated its wonders. The manner in which the shouts, and even the whispers, of the boys came back to them seemed weird. It was as though some mysterious spirit was concealed in the nooks and crannies of the small canyon, mocking them.
“Well, this sure is a great place!” exclaimed Ned, when they were tired of experimenting with their voices and the echo.
“Yes, let’s get out in the open and eat,” added Bob. “It’s too dark and gloomy in here.”
His companions agreed with him on both proposals, and they walked along, as they imagined, the way they had come in. But they had taken a wrong turn, or several of them, and after about half an hour of tramping Ned suddenly exclaimed:
“Fellows, we’re on the wrong trail!”
“What do you mean?” asked Bob.
“I mean we aren’t getting out of this place. We’re wandering around in a circle. Here we are back at the same place we started from—the place I picked up that queer bit of red rock. Look! There’s where I kicked it loose! Fellows, we’re lost!”