“It couldn’t be better,” said Rick exultantly as Uncle Tod and his partner shuffled off down the trail.
“That’s right,” agreed Chot. “And if we come back and tell ’em we’ve found Lost River—”
“Oh, boy!” chanted Rick.
They took with them everything they thought they would need in making the exploration, including food for themselves and Ruddy. They also carried water bottles, for though they were on the trail of a disappeared river they might not find it.
Behold them then, a little later, penetrating into the blackness of the tunnel, flashing on the sides and roof gleams from lanterns they carried—oil lanterns, with electric flashlights in their pockets for use in emergencies.
“Do you think we might get walled up in here?” asked Chot, as he and his chum, with Ruddy, passed beneath the overhanging arch of fantastic boulders, below which they had dug the hole for themselves.
“Walled up; what do you mean?” asked Rick.
“I mean if these rocks took a notion to tumble down they’d fill the opening we made and maybe we couldn’t get out.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that will happen,” said Rick with the careless and joyous abandon of youth.
And so they went in. Ruddy hung back for a moment, as if a bit suspicious of the undertaking, but when Rick called to his dog the faithful companion of more than one exciting adventure came on with a wag of his tail as if saying: