The truth flashed through the boys’ minds at once—they were prisoners again. In spite of all their vigilance, the chief had succeeded in carrying out the plan he had formed while he was watching the operation of binding Pierre Costello. His movements had been so rapid, that, even had his captives been aware of his intention, they could not have prevented him from carrying it into execution. Before they could tell what was the matter, the lantern had been smashed, their treacherous enemy had made his exit from the room in some mysterious manner, and they were alone in the darkness.
“We’re in for it now,” panted Archie, sinking down upon the floor all in a heap. “We’ve got out of some tight places to-night, but there is no escape from this predicament. The Don will soon be back with his men.”
“And if they once get their hands upon us, we need never expect to see home again,” said Frank. “Give me some of your matches, and we will examine the walls of this dungeon. There’s a spring to that door, and if we can find it, we can get out.”
After the matches had been lighted, the boys found that the first difficulty to be overcome was the finding of the door. They did not know where to look for it, for the walls appeared to be as solid as the ground. They made the circuit of the room several times, lighting new matches as fast as the old ones were consumed, and carefully examining each separate stone in the wall, from the floor up to a level with their heads; but nothing in the shape of a spring or lock rewarded their search. Then they turned their attention to the floor; but, if there was any opening in the solid oak planks, it could not be found. Five minutes—it seemed much longer to the frightened and excited boys—were passed in this way, and then, for the first time that night, Frank’s courage and fortitude were utterly exhausted.
“It’s no use,” said he. “The Don got out somewhere, but it is very evident that we can’t. We might as well sit down, and wait for him to come in and dispose of us. Do you see any thing encouraging?” he added, noticing that his cousin was holding a match above his head, and closely examining the roof of the dungeon.
“I believe I do,” replied Archie. “Isn’t that a scuttle?”
“That’s just what it is,” exclaimed Frank, joyfully; “and it is fastened with hooks.”
“Oh, if we could only get up there,” cried Archie. “But there isn’t a thing here for a fellow to stand upon.”
“I’ve got a pair of shoulders. Come here, and I will hold you up.”