“I have it—bark gloves!”
“Bark what?” asked Chot.
“Bark gloves! Look, we can peel off some bark from this tree—it’s tough and stringy. We can take a piece, cut a hole in for our thumb, and tie the bark on with string. That will save the palms of our hands.”
“That’s a good idea!” complimented Chot. “Let’s try it.”
With their knives they stripped some bark from a tree, the name of which they did not know, but which bark was sufficiently tough and pliable to form a protective covering. Tying pads of this on their hands saved them from most of the contact with the rough stones, and the boys were able to work much faster now.
They paid little attention now to Ruddy, though occasional glances showed them that the dog was still worrying away at the hole. He growled and whined, looking occasionally toward his two boy chums as if he could not understand why they did not take the same interest as did he.
But Rick and Chot had other matters to occupy their attention. They could see, now, that they were making an opening through which was, undoubtedly, a screening wall of stones. They did not have to toss aside the rocks all the way to the top, for near the summit some great boulders had fallen, or been placed, in the shape of a rude arch, supporting themselves and the stones above and on either side.
“If we get enough of these lower stones out of the way,” remarked Chot, “we can walk under the arch just like through a gateway.”
“If it doesn’t fall on us,” agreed his chum, a bit apprehensively.
But neither boy dreamed of danger. Faster and faster they worked as they saw the afternoon sun waning, and when its shadows were very long suddenly Rick pulled aside a large stone and gave a cry.