“We’ll draw lots,” decided Ned.
This was done and the short straws were found to be held by Charlie Rogers and Tommy Beals.
“All right, Fatty! We’re it!” exclaimed Rogers. “The sooner we start the better. Get plenty of grub and blankets and bring that big hammock of yours; it will come in handy!”
The two left for home at once to procure the necessary supplies, and that afternoon Dave Wilbur deposited them and their belongings on the porch of the Coleson house.
“Any last request you want to send back to the folks at home?” grinned Dave, as he backed the car around and headed for town.
“Yeah, tell ’em to have a steak and onions ready for me at six tomorrow night,” sighed Beals. “It’s going to be hungry work hanging around out here!”
“I wish we hadn’t floored over this opening into the cellar. I’d like to get a look down below,” said Rogers, thumping the solid oak with the heel of his shoe.
“Not for me!” decided Beals emphatically. “I’m for minding my own business and I recommend that policy to you, Red, but if you’re curious, you can hunt for an outside entrance to the cellar. I should think there must be one somewhere.”
Acting on this suggestion, Rogers searched diligently among the debris that lay along the foundation of the house, but without success. The heavy granite wall showed no opening and the masonry which sealed the mouth of the old mine-shaft was undisturbed.
“Come on in and eat!” summoned Beals.