As Prescott started to steal down into the hollow Dave reached
about him, gathering all the fair-sized stones within reach.

"If Dick has to come from there on the rim," soliloquized Darrin,
"a few stones hurled at the face of that ugly-looking customer
might hold him back for a while. And I used to be called a pretty
fair pitcher!"

Prescott, in the meantime, was stealing around the shanty, applying
his eyes to some tiny cracks.

At last he turned, making straight and cautiously up the slope.

As he came near, Dick sent Dave a signal that made that latter
youth throb with expectancy.

"Yes! We've found Theodore Dodge!" whispered young Prescott eagerly.
"He's in there, lying on the floor, bound and gagged."

"Whew! And what is Mr. Brogans doing?"

"Sitting on the floors smoking and playing solitaire with a dirty
pack of cards. The other rascal, Bill, is sleeping at a great
rate."

"What are we going to do now?"

"Dave, are you willing to stay here, hiding and keeping watch
on the place?"