“Where-where did it go to?” cried Bob, dumfounded.
“It went—it went to China, I guess! It just slipped right through my hands, and kept on slipping!” Laurie knelt and dug at the hole with his fingers.
“Find it?” asked Bob. “Try the shovel.”
“No, I can’t feel it. Hand it here.” Laurie took the shovel and dug frantically. Then Bob dug. The result was that they enlarged and deepened the hole around the post, but the crowbar failed to materialize.
“I suppose,” said Laurie, finally, dropping the shovel and tilting back his cap, “what happened was that I struck a sort of hole, and the bar went right down in. Maybe it was a rat-hole, Bob.”
“I guess so. Anyway, it’s gone, and we’ll have to get a new one.”
“Oh, I guess we’ll find it when we get the post out. Let’s try the old thing.”
They did, and, after a moment of indecision, it came out most obligingly. But there was still no crowbar to be seen. Laurie shook his head, mystified. “That’s the funniest thing I ever saw,” he declared.
“It surely is! Look here; maybe there’s an old well there.”
“Then why didn’t the post go down into it?”