“Because it’s covered over with stones. The bar happened to slip into a—a crevice.”
Laurie nodded dubiously. “That might be it,” he agreed. “Or perhaps we’ve discovered a subterranean cavern!”
“Caverns always are subterranean, aren’t they?”
“No; sometimes they’re in the side of a hill.”
“Then they’re caves.”
“A cave and a cavern are the same thing, you smart Aleck.”
“All right; but even if a cavern is in a hill, it’s underground, and subterranean means under—”
“Help! You win, Bob! Come on and get hold of this log and let’s get it out of here.” And, as they staggered with it across the garden to add it to the pile of posts and lumber already there, he continued: “There’s one thing certain, Bob, and that’s that you won’t get me to play tennis on your court. I’d be afraid of sinking into the ground some fine day!”
“Maybe you’d find the crowbar then,” said Bob. “Heave!”
Laurie “heaved,” patted the brown loam from his hands, and surveyed the pile. “There’s a lot of good stuff there,” he pondered. “Some of it’s sort of rotten, but there’s enough to build something.”