“He might have stored gold or silver here,” Clay suggested. “This den wasn’t prepared to keep vegetables in!”
Tom went to the door and listened, having no answer to the supposition. He could hear King moving about in the cellar, and finally there came a tap on the door, which, the boy saw, was covered with a plate of rusty iron. Then a voice, muffled by wood and metal, came to his ears. It was King speaking and his tone was one of triumph.
“Good-night, boys!” the deputy said. “You are welcome to all you find in there! I’ve been over every inch of it! Good-night. I’ll see that you remain there for a time!”
“We might starve to death here, and no one would ever know!” Tom complained. “I knew Uncle David had such a hole as this, but I never thought I’d be locked up in it!”
“How do you think King found out about it?” asked Clay.
“There must have been papers Don didn’t get with the handbag,” was the reply. “I don’t know! He found out, anyway, and so did we! I suppose we are about nine thousand feet under the surface of the earth!”
“Make it a good one while you are at it,” chuckled Clay.
“How are we ever going to get out?” asked Tom. “I’m afraid down here in this musty hole! I always was afraid in the dark. I see ghosts in every shadow! Guess I was born that way!”
“We’ll have to dig out,” Clay answered. “We’ve just got to get back to the Rambler! What will the boys think?”
“Think we’ve run away, I presume.”