“Probably was, only you didn’t see it,” said Slim, impatient to go on.
“I’m positive it wasn’t,” said the Captain. “I’m going over to have a look at it. When rags start out of rocks there’s something in the wind.” And he walked briskly toward it, the rest following. As they drew near their startled eyes fell on the black letters of the word HELP, traced in wobbly lines.
“Yay!” shouted the boys at the top of their lungs. “Where are you and what’s the matter?”
Apparently from inside the rock came the feeble echo of a shout: “We’re in the cave! The rock covered the doorway!”
“Wait a minute!” called the Captain in answer, and boylike tried to move the rock himself. “Lend a hand, fellows,” he said, after one shove against its solid side. They lent all the hands they had, but could not budge it. “Pull the bricks out from around it,” commanded the Captain, taking charge of the affair like a general, “and look out for your feet when she lunges over!” They set to work, dislodging the bricks that held it in, and before long it moved, tottered, grated and finally, with a great crash, lunged over and rolled down a little slope.
Pale and shaken, the Winnebagos emerged into the light of day. Had the ghosts of their great grandmothers appeared before them the boys could not have been more surprised. Questions and answers flew back and forth thick and fast until the tale of their finding the cave was told.
“And I’ll never, never, explore anything again!” finished Hinpoha, in an emphatic tone.
“Oh, yes, you will,” said Gladys; “and so will we all, but the next time we’ll have a company of guides fore and aft.”
“Wouldn’t it be a better plan,” suggested the Captain mildly, “to take us along with you wherever you go? I notice we generally have to come to the rescue, anyway.”
And the Winnebagos promised to consider the matter.