“Say!” Jimmie shouted, springing to his feet. “I bet you the next dollar I don’t find that that’s the fat clerk, Gilroy!”
“The voice sounds like that of a fat man,” Ned laughed.
“Gilroy’s fat all right!” Jimmie exclaimed. “He’s got one of those pink baby faces that make you hungry to look at. He makes me think of a roast of veal, and he’s got a cute little round bald spot on the top of his head. And he wants to be dignified and speaks his words impressively. Say, Ned,” the boy continued, “I wouldn’t mind having that fellow get into some kind of a mixup out here!”
“Oh Lord! Oh Lord! Oh Lord!” cried the voice from the forest.
“That’s Gilroy, all right enough!” Ned declared. “Why don’t you go down and see what he wants, Jimmie?” he added.
“Aw, he ain’t talking to me!” cried the boy.
“Then I presume I’ll have to go,” Ned said, rising from his seat in front of the barrier. “Perhaps he’s been stung by a bee.”
“He didn’t get crippled in his shrieker,” Jimmie suggested.
Ned stepped into the cave and secured an automatic revolver to replace the one taken from him at the old mission, and also passed one to Jimmie. Then the two hastened into the forest in the direction of the sounds.
The call for help continued to come, although the voice of the man came hoarser at every call. When the boys finally came close enough to distinguish words spoken in low tones, they heard a warning.