"What are you going to tell the folks?" Prescott queried. "That the poor fellow is living or dead? I'm going back to find out which."
"We'll all go," offered Dave.
"But what happened to Rip and his mean crew?" asked Hazelton.
"We haven't seen any signs that they were in the cottage at all," Dick responded. "If they were, as none of them came out, they must be badly hurt—-perhaps worse."
As a matter of fact, Ripley and his party had not gone into the cottage, but had continued directly towards their homes.
That grisly thought gave all the boys a shudder as they plodded up the slope, between the bushes and thence stepped into the clearing.
"Talk about dreaming!" muttered Dick, halting abruptly and staring hard at the ground around the cottage.
In the first place, the cottage door was closed. There was no smoke now coming out of the chimney, and all looked peaceful and deserted, save for the presence of the Grammar School intruders. There was no injured man lying on the ground.
"Crackey!" gasped Greg. "Yet we didn't all dream together, did we?"
"Certainly not," muttered Dick, again starting forward. The others followed him.