"And the earth has soaked up the blood." "I don't see any soaked-up blood," objected Greg.
"No; because it's so well covered and soaked up," argued Hazelton.
"But wait until I find a stick, and we'll stir up that dirt.
Then we'll find the red stuff mixed to a sort of mud, and-----" "Come along out of this, you ghoul!" uttered Tom almost wrathfully, as he seized his friend by the arm.
"We'll go to the door," Dick suggested.

"Perhaps we can get inside.
At any rate, we can find out whether there is any one inside who wants help." Dick put his hand on the doorknob, giving it a turn and a hard push.
"Door's locked tightly now," he announced.
"And it takes human hands to lock a door," Reade observed sagely.
"Is there anyone inside who needs any help ?" Prescott called loudly.
All was silent inside.

Then Dick played a tattoo on the locked door with his fists.

Still no sound from inside.
"All together, now," urged Dick.

"Any---one---want---help ?" bawled six lusty young voices in unison.
"There is only one voice that answers," continued Dick, after a pause, as he turned to the others.