Part 14 (1/2)

In moving around his foot came in contact with an empty tomato can and this gave him an idea. He knelt down, and with the can between his heels, tried to saw apart the rope which bound his hands behind him.

The position was an awkward one and the job long and tiring, but at last the rope gave way and he found his hands free. He lost no further time in ridding himself of the gag and the rope which bound his feet.

He was now free so far as his bodily movements went, but he soon discovered that the coal bin was without any opening but a long, narrow chute covered with an iron plate, and that the heavy door was securely bolted. With all force he threw himself against the door, but it refused to budge.

Presently he remembered that he had several loose matches in his vest pocket, and, taking out one of these, he lit it and then set fire to a thick shaving that was handy and which, being damp, burnt slowly.

”Hullo, here's something of a trap-door!” he exclaimed, as he gazed at the flooring above head. ”I wonder if I can get out that way?”

He dropped the lighted shaving in a safe spot and put up his hands. The cut-out spot in the flooring went up with ease and d.i.c.k saw a fairly well furnished room beyond. Through one of the windows of the room he saw that daybreak was at hand.

”Great Caesar! I've been down here all night!” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, and, putting out the light, leaped up and drew himself through the opening. Once in the room he put the trap down again and rearranged the rag carpet he had shoved out of place.

The door to the room was locked, so the boy hurried to the window. Throwing open the blinds, he was about to leap out into the tenement alley when a woman suddenly confronted him. She was tall and heavy and had a red, disagreeable face.

”What are you doing in my rooms, young fellow?” she demanded.

”I'm trying to get out of this house!”

”What are you--a thief?”

”No. I was locked up in the cellar by a couple of bad men and got out by coming through a trap-door in your floor.”

”A likely story!” sneered the woman, who had been away during the night and had heard nothing of the search for d.i.c.k. ”You look like a sneak-thief. Anyway, you haven't any right in my rooms.”

She came closer, and, as d.i.c.k leaped to the ground, clutched him by the arm.

”Let me go, madam.”

”I won't. I'm going to hand you over to the police.”

”I don't think you will!” retorted d.i.c.k, and with a twist he wrenched himself loose and started off on a run. The woman attempted to follow him, but soon gave up the chase.

d.i.c.k did not stop running until he was several blocks away. Then he dropped into a walk and looked about to see, if his brothers or Frank were anywhere in sight.

”I suppose they couldn't make it out and went home,” he mused.

”I had, better get to Frank's house without delay.”

d.i.c.k was still a block away from Senator Harrington's residence when he espied Tom, Sam, and Frank coming toward him.

”My gracious, where have you been?” burst out Tom, as he rushed forward. ”You look as if you'd been rolling around a dirty cellar.”

”And that is just about what I have been doing,” answered d.i.c.k with a sickly laugh. ”Do you know anything of Buddy Girk?” he added quickly.

”He ran away from the tenement, and Arnold Baxter was with him,”

replied Sam.

”Did you follow them?”

”No; we tried to find out what had become of you.”