“Are you there, Jimmie?” called Ned, swinging the beam from his searchlight about the interior, lighting up a collection of merchandise piled in the warehouse. Jimmie was nowhere to be seen.
“Where could he have gone so suddenly?” queried Harry.
“Maybe Mackinder hit him over the head!” ventured Jack.
“Mackinder better be careful how he monkeys with this crew!” was Harry’s belligerent comment. “Maybe that guy’ll get all that’s coming to him and get it right in the neck!”
For a moment the boys stood listening intently for some indication of the presence of their comrade. Once Ned thought he heard a soft footfall. He put out his hand to touch Jack on the arm.
“Ss-s-sh!” he hissed. “What was that?”
“Rat, maybe!” suggested Jack. “Turn your searchlight this way a minute. I want to see where this passage leads.”
Ned swung the searchlight in the direction indicated. Its lance of flame pierced the gloom, revealing tiers of boxes and piles of bags and bales heaped up in orderly array. Sufficient space had been left between the heaps of merchandise to provide passageway.
“Come on,” cried Jack, “we’re losing time standing here!”