A dozen wild conjectures chased each other through the boys’ bewildered heads. Suppose the two lumbermen had learned of the boys’ intention to warn Flannigan! Suppose they had waylaid Jack and Tom! Would the boys stand up to them? If they did, would they win? If they had been attacked on their way to the lumber camp, every Scout felt sure that the boys would do their best to avoid the plotters and deliver their message. On the other hand, if they had been coming back, it was more than likely that the boys would stand up to the two ruffians. If this last were so, what had been the outcome? As nobody was able to answer this, all they could do was to follow Don, now plunging on far ahead.
As they neared the cave some of the boys recognized their surroundings. Then a new fear came to torment them. What if the boys had run to the cave for shelter and had found the unknown inhabitants there?
In another minute they had scrambled down the ravine, rounded the rocks and had come into full view of the place where the cave had been. At the sight that met their eyes they stopped short and fairly gasped with astonishment and dismay.
They all looked to Mr. Durland for an explanation of this state of affairs.
“Boys,” said the Scout-Master in a strained, unnatural voice, “you say that there was a cave in the side of that mountain?”
“Yes, sir,” said Bob. “We examined it thoroughly the other day.”
“Then I am afraid that you will all have a chance to test every ounce of courage and fortitude you possess to-day. Boys,” he said, and his voice shook a little in spite of himself, “our Tom and Jack are almost certainly in that cave and are suffering—perhaps dying—for lack of air! Are you ready, now, to get them out?”
The boys’ answer was a deafening shout, and, snatching up their shovels and trowels, set to work with a grim do-it-or-die expression on their young faces that did Mr. Durland’s heart good. In earnest they applied themselves to their heart-breaking task, opening their lips for nothing except to call the boys’ names from time to time.
What was that voice? It seemed so far away—as if someone were calling from a great distance. What was it they were saying? Was it “Jack?” No, it was “Tom.” Why were they calling them? Where were they? What was that strange feeling in his head, that dizzy sensation, that made him feel as if he were spinning around and around? Had the lumbermen caught them after all? No, that could not be it. Now he had it! They were smothering to death in this loathsome hole! So, by painful degrees, Jack drew himself back from the dark abyss of oblivion and came to a full realization of his whereabouts.