Frank and Lanky exchanged glances.

"Told you so!" declared the latter, triumphantly.

"Well, it certainly looks as though there might be something in
it. Bones must have forgotten the warning, in his sudden desire to
stop the howling of the dog. He went out, and as he hasn't come
back, we'd better be looking after him. Come along, some of you
fellows. If they've carried him off, it's up to us to rescue our
right guard!"

There was an immediate rush made for the door of the hall.
Dyckman's was situated just on the outskirts of the town. It had
once been some sort of church, and was now used for a variety of
purposes connected with the life of the community, from political
meetings to dancing classes.

As the stream of boys poured out of the building, the howling of
the bulldog nearby became more furious than ever. It immediately
attracted the attention of the observant Frank.

"Hark!" he said, holding up his hand to indicate that silence
would be necessary if they hoped to succeed in accomplishing
anything worth while.

"What is it?" demanded Lanky, eagerly; "do you see Bones, or did
you hear him shout for help?"

"Neither. I was thinking of his dog," was the reply.