"Greg, aren't you thirsty?" demanded Dick, as young Holmes stood blinking in the bright sunlight.
"I shall be, as soon as I get the oakum washed out of my mouth," grimaced Greg. "Whew! What a vile taste that sort of stuff has!"
"Folks in the good old town won't believe us when we get back," muttered Darrin.
"Yes, they will; they'll have to," insisted Dan, producing some articles from one of his pockets. "Here are some of the cords you cut from Greg's wrists and ankles, and here's some of the oakum."
"Throw that oakum stuff away, or else hide it. Please do," begged young Holmes, making a wry face.
"Come on. There's no time to be lost," advised Dick. "We've got a long way to go, and Greg needs the exercise. Besides, he's thirsty and hungry—or ought to be."
Within five minutes the Grammar School boys came across a spring. There Greg knelt and took in several mouthfuls, one after another, for the purpose of rinsing his mouth of that nauseating oakum taste. Then, at last, he swallowed water freely.
"My, but it's good to be out in the world again," breathed Greg happily. "But how did you fellows find me?"
"The whole town turned out to search," Dick explained. "There was no school to-day. And we came across clues that led us here. That's enough, from our side. Now, tell us how you came to be in such a fix."
At this point the Grammar School boys came out on the highway.