Tad shook his head.
"No. He was in trouble. I knew that from his tone."
"Then he must have fallen in some place," announced Big-foot. "He couldn't fall up, so there's no use looking anywhere but on the ground floor here," he decided, wisely. "Anybody know of any holes that he might drop into?"
"Not that I have seen," answered Ned. "The floor is as solid as stone."
"Well, that beats all. You boys scout around outside, while Curley and I are looking things over in here. Besides, I want to be alone and think this thing over."
"What do you make of it, Big-foot?" asked Curley Adams, after the others had gone outside.
"I ain't making. When it comes to putting my wits against a spook place, I'm beyond roping distance. We'll look into these holes in the wall around here, first," he said, referring to the niches and cell-like rooms that they saw leading off from the auditorium. "You make it your business to sound the floor. We may find some kind of trap door."
Curley went about bringing down the heels of his heavy boots on the hard floor, but it all sounded solid enough. There was no belief in the mind of either that the lad could have disappeared in any of the places they had examined—that is, that he could have done so through any ordinary accident.
Like most cowboys, both Curley and Big-foot possessed a strong vein of superstition in their natures. To them there was something uncanny in Stacy Brown's mysterious and sudden disappearance.
"Here's a door, but it's closed," called Curley.