“Help!” shouted a voice that they had no difficulty in recognizing as Dancer’s, and then again came the cry for aid, sharp and thrilling in its urgent need.
“Help! Help!”
“Come on, Tom!”
“I’m right with you, Jack!”
Together the two boys dashed through the gate which had been left open when Mr. Dancer and the man they knew as Adam Duke entered it.
Once inside they paused for an instant. Nobody was in sight, but a cry issuing from a small building told them that it was within that structure that they were needed, and needed in a hurry. Simultaneously both lads ran toward the building, a small shed, apparently used as an office.
As they neared it, a figure darted from the door. It was Adam Duke.
“What’s the trouble?” demanded Jack.
“Nothing,” snarled Duke with an effort at self-control; but his face was flushed and his eyes wild; and then he shouted:
“Take that, you young cub!”