"They do come back clear enough. I hope nothing is wrong with him."
"Oh, hardly, Frank. What could happen in broad daylight? Ghosts don't come out of their holes then, and we all agreed that the chances were the farmer, as well as that ugly Peters crowd, must have hiked back to town. Will's all right," observed Jerry, coolly.
"There he goes again. I don't like the sound of his voice, and it seems to me that he is calling us by name. Listen once more. Wasn't that word 'help'?"
"It sure sounded like it," declared Bluff, looking with startled eyes at his two chums.
"Come on, Bluff, with me. Jerry, you stay by the wagon, and keep your eyes on the lookout all the time. Nobody can say what we might run up against in these Sunset Mountains. If there are ghosts, there may be other things."
"All right, I'll stay," replied Jerry, though the disappointed look on his face told plainly enough that he would much rather accompany them.
Frank and Bluff ran down the rough road at a fast clip. The nearer they came to the bottom the louder grew the cries.
"No mistake, now, Bluff. He's calling for help," declared Frank, quickening his pace even more.
"Oh! I wonder what's happened. Perhaps he fell and broke a leg," suggested Bluff.
"I hope not. That would be hard for poor Will, and break up our outing entirely," returned the other.