A Daring Attempt
Judy hoped Blackberry would head straight for the main road where he would be apt to find someone who might read the note attached to his collar. Time was of the utmost importance. Horace must feel, as she did, that it was rapidly running out.
“This story is burning a hole in my pocket,” he said now. “I’ve got to get it to the Herald. Well, at least we’re trying—”
“Trying what?” cried Judy. “We’re just standing here on the coal pile doing nothing. I don’t call that trying.”
“Maybe not,” Horace said, “but it is serving. ‘He also serves who only stands and waits.’”
“You and your quotations! Maybe it is serving, but I don’t like it. Maybe you like the thought of someone finding a big story in your pocket after you’re dead, but I like the thought of being alive a lot better—even with empty pockets. Why is your story so important, anyway?” asked Judy. “What, exactly, did Dick Hartwell tell you?”
“He told me plenty,” replied Horace. “Enough to convict the whole Falco gang of extortion as well as robbery. His story should solve Lorraine’s problem—”
“Bother Lorraine!” exclaimed Judy. “If it hadn’t been for her and her childish idea that she could wish away her troubles in the fountain we might not have come here—”
“And Dick Hartwell might not have been found.”
Judy hadn’t thought of that. But what was the good of finding him if there was no way to help him? Blackberry was, as Dick had pointed out, only a cat. The note attached to his collar might be lost or disregarded, probably the latter. Even if he delivered it to the right people it might be much too late. As for Lorraine’s problem, Judy announced that, whatever it was, it couldn’t compare with the problem of life and death that she and Horace and Dick were facing here inside the tunnel with the water rising.