"Oh, I thought he might be a conjurer," was the rejoinder. "He seems to be pretty good at hiding himself."
"Hark!" exclaimed Jack suddenly, standing at pause and listening intently.
"What's up?" demanded Dick, instantly on the alert, too.
"I heard something. It sounded like——"
"There it is again," cried Tom.
A faint, far-off cry, impossible to locate, was borne to their ears.
"It's a call for help," declared Dick.
"That's what it is," agreed the red-faced farmer. "Must be that perfusser of yours, but where in the name of Sam Hill is he?"
It was a puzzling question. The faint cries appeared to be muffled in some way. They looked about them, endeavoring to locate their source. Suddenly one of the farm hands spoke.
"I used to work fer old Crabtree," he said. "There's an old well hereabouts somewheres and maybe he's fell down that."