"You—you know too much, boy," he faltered. "Come over here, I say. Or shall I bring you?"
"I don't see how you are going to bring me. You can't get over the stream any better than I can."
"It's running very strong, dad," announced Bart, who had been testing the current with some chips. "I don't believe anybody can get across without a long plank. He must have gotten into the cave from the other end."
"Then we can get in that way, too," put in Pete Rackley. "We ought to make him a prisoner," he added, in a low voice.
"I don't think you will get in," thought Dave. "If you do, the chances are you won't come out alive."
A short talk followed, which Dave could not hear.
Then Pete Rackley left the cave on a run, to reappear a few minutes later with a good-sized tree limb which the storm of a few days before had brought down.
"Now we'll get him!" cried Rackley, and threw the limb over the stream.
Dave was much startled. He knew not what to do, for to retreat was impossible.
Soon Rackley was over the underground stream, and Lemuel Hankers and his son followed.