“Listen!” Garry gripped Don’s arm. “Did you hear a shout?”
“Yes! Far away!”
They were distracted, for an instant, from the quest by the new and unexpected call coming from a distant point.
“Do you suppose it could be help—for us?” Garry wondered. “Maybe Chick left the airport to get police aid.”
“Let’s wait a bit and see if the shout comes again!” Don suggested. “This fellow we’re after can’t go far in that grass; he’d sink into a mudhole.”
“Maybe he did, already,” Garry hinted. “Maybe he went down and got caught in the grass.”
“That would account for us not seeing—”
“There’s the call—closer, too!”
They made out the words.
“Sounds like Chick’s voice,” Garry whispered. He called, high and sharp, “Stop!”