With the last of these exclamations, the huge dog was dealt a resounding kick in the ribs, which sent him yelping out across the lawn, at which Patsy breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m safe for a few minutes, at least,” he decided.
Then he heard Badger shout commandingly:
“Here you, Conley! Come here with the lantern, so I can see to run in this car. Look lively, old pal!”
Patsy wondered why he had shouted so lustily, and now he ventured to raise the wicker lid about half an inch and peer out.
A dimly lighted basement met his gaze. It was not more than twenty feet square, with the stone foundation walls of the stable on two sides, the open door on a third, while the fourth and interior side appeared to be a solid wooden bulkhead.
The floor was the bare ground, and the place was evidently designed for stowing away an automobile.
“This is where that car came from this noon, that’s plain enough,” thought Patsy. “Yet Nick must be wrong in thinking the rascals own so many cars, for I’ve seen only two. There’s not room in there for more than that number.”
The last thought had barely crossed his mind, however, when Patsy discovered his mistake, and also why Badger had shouted so loudly.