“I’ll bet you the Michigan Central Railroad against the Pennsylvania system,” Jimmie chuckled, “that Gilroy has his little old electric lamp trimmed and burning when you get there.”
Ned did not offer to accept the wager, but turned and made his way around the corner and up the long incline. Just as he reached the entrance a cry of terror came to his ears, followed almost immediately by a pistol shot and the fall of a heavy body.
Ned shivered as the unseen form thudded down the awful precipice, bounding, apparently, from one tiny ledge to another, and finally came, with a sickening crash, to the bottom! Only for an instant, however, did it lay on the rocks. There was a splash in the pool and then silence.
Almost shivering with dread, fearing that Gilroy had been shot and hurled from the lip of the cliff, Ned leaned against the wall and waited.
For a time there was no sound at all, and then came a succession of noises which indicated that some one was moving about at the top of the pool so close to the edge that stones dislodged by their feet were bumping down the incline. As the sounds came from two or three directions at once, the boy naturally concluded that the Devil’s Punch Bowl was fairly well surrounded. He looked long in the hope of discovering a light or a figure moving dimly against the expanse of stars, but nothing was seen.
The shot had attracted the attention of the boys in the passage, and Jimmie now came panting out to his chum’s side.
“What is it?” he asked almost breathlessly.
“There was a shot!” Ned answered. “And some one fell into the pit.”
“It must have been Gilroy, then!” Jimmie suggested.
“I’m afraid so,” was Ned’s anxious reply.