“Why not go to the cave until the rain stops?” asked Pat.
“It is colder in there than it is here,” Frank said, still thinking of the silent figure in the narrow tunnel back of the cupboard.
“We can’t get any more water in our clothes and hides than we have now,” Jack observed, “so we may as well stay outside and watch for Ned and the aeroplane. I don’t believe any other person ever took an aeroplane up in such a storm. I’m afraid Ned was smashed against the divide.”
“Ned’s all right,” insisted Frank. “Suppose we go back to the plateau and see if there’s anything left of our tents.”
“I’m game for that,” Pat said, “but,” he added, turning a keen gaze on Frank, “I’d like to know why you object to going to the cave. Jack and I would like to see it.”
“Well,” Frank replied, not without some hesitation at bringing the scene in the tunnel back to his mind in form for expression in words, “there’s a crime been committed in the cave, and it’s uncanny.”
“A crime!” repeated Pat, all excitement at the suggestion of another adventure, “what kind of a crime?”
“A murder,” replied Frank, with a shiver.
“Let’s go in and see,” Pat said.
“Frank’s afraid,” Jack put in.