"Neither did I," put in the lumberman. "Who did it look like?"
"Perhaps I was mistaken and it was a bird flitting through the brush.
Come on."
Larry plunged ahead and Dick followed.
Both had hardly taken a dozen steps when each gave a yell.
"What's up now?" cried Peterson, and came after them at a bound.
Then all tried to scramble back.
It was too late. They had struck a tiny water-course between the rocks. And now the very bottom of it seemed to drop out, and they sank down and down into almost utter darkness.
"We are lost!" spluttered Dick, but it is doubtful if either of his companions heard him.
For the minute after Dick was so dazed and bewildered that he said nothing more. He clutched at rocks, dirt, and tree roots, but all gave way at his touch.
At last he found himself flat on his back on a heap of dead leaves and moss. Partly across him lay Larry, while Peterson was several feet away. Around the three lay dirt and bushes and several good-sized stones. It was lucky the stones had not come down on top of them, otherwise one or another might have been killed.