Part 13 (2/2)

”He couldn't do that without our seeing him,” said Sam.

”And why not? Here's a back door, remember, and it's pretty dark outside.”

”That may be so,” returned Tom, shaking his curly head in perplexity.

”It's too bad we didn't follow Girk and Baxter up--at least as far as the street.”

”Perhaps d.i.c.k is at our house waiting for us to come back,” put in Frank. ”Let us go home and see. We can come back early in the morning.” He looked at his watch. ”Do you know that it is after two o'clock? I'm afraid my father will worry about me.”

They talked the matter over and decided to return to Frank's home without further delay.

It was a silent trio that walked the streets, which were now practically deserted. Tom and Sam were much worried and Frank hardly less so, for the senator's son and d.i.c.k had been warm friends for years.

When they reached the mansion they found Senator Harrington pacing the library nervously.

”Well, here you are at last!” he cried. ”I was wondering what had become of you.”

He listened to their tale with close attention.

”No, d.i.c.k has not come in,” he said, ”at least, I think not.

Run up to the bedrooms, Frank, and see.”

Frank did as requested, and soon returned.

”No, he isn't about,” he said disappointedly,

”It's mighty queer what became of him.”

CHAPTER IX

A LOSS OF IMPORTANCE

Half stunned d.i.c.k lay for a long time on the newspapers and musty straw in the disused coal bin of the tenement cellar.

”This is what I call tough luck,” he muttered to himself, and tried to force the somewhat loose gag from his mouth. But it would not come.

As soon as he felt strong enough he began to work on the rope which bound his hands together. But the rascals who had placed him in the cellar had done their work well, and the cord refused to budge.

With difficulty he managed to stand erect. The bin was not only pitch-dark, but full of cobwebs and the latter brushed over his face whenever he moved. Then a spider crawled on his neck, greatly adding to his discomfort.

Hour after hour went by, and poor d.i.c.k was wondering what the end of the adventure would be when he heard a footstep overhead and then came the indistinct murmur of voice.

”Somebody is in the room overhead,” he thought, and tried to make himself heard. But before he could do this the footsteps moved off and he heard the slamming of a door. Then all became as quiet as before.

An hour more went by, and the youth began to grow desperate. He was thirsty and his mouth and nose were filled with dust and dirt, rendering him far from comfortable.

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