There was no sound within and no response was given to their summons. Nor when they repeated their knocking, as they did several times, was any heed paid them.
“What shall we do?” whispered Fred, looking up into the face of his companion. “There must be somebody in here.”
“Open the door,” suggested John.
Fred reached for the latch, and, doing his utmost to be quiet in his action in order to avoid undue attention on the part of the dog, tried to open the door.
The door, however, was locked or bolted and although both boys pushed against it with their shoulders they were unable to move it. For the first time they were aware now how massive and strong the door was.
“It isn’t much like an ordinary kitchen door,” whispered Fred as they abandoned their effort.
“I should say not,” responded John. “We can’t get in and that’s the only thing I can see plainly around here.”
“I wish George and Grant were here.”
“So do I, but if wishes were horses, beggars might ride. Is that dog creeping any nearer to us?”
“I don’t see that it is. I guess all there is left for us is to go back to the shore and wait.”