It was a smothered cry, and it seemed to come from the ground at their feet. It made the hair of the Dutch boy stand and his teeth chatter. It astonished and amazed them all. "Help!" Again that smothered cry seemed to come from the grave. What did it mean? "Use the pick, Hodge!" hoarsely commanded Browning. "We will soon open it up. Go at it lively!" Bart obeyed, and the ground gave back a strange, hollow sound as he struck his pick into it. Browning shoveled away the dirt, having torn off his coat to work with greater ease. Soon something of a hole had been made in the mound. All at once, with a cry of horror, Bart started back, pointing down into the hole they had made. "Look!" he gasped. "That ring--that hand! It is Frank Merriwell's hand!" And there before them they saw a human hand that seemed to be thrust up through the ground. Hans began to pray. The hand moved--it clawed desperately at the ground! "It is Frank!" Diamond almost screamed. "He is down there! He has been buried alive! Dig, fellows--dig! But be careful not to hurt him!" At that moment the ground caved in at their feet, and up out of it rose the dirt-covered head of Frank Merriwell. He rubbed the dirt out of his eyes, and then he cheerfully observed: "Good-morning, fellows! It seems to be a pleasant morning outside, but it's a trifle close inside. If you will take hold and pull me out, I'll be much obliged." They clutched him--they dragged him to the surface. Behind him lay a deep, dark hole that was not filled by the earth that had caved in. "Well, of all things wonderful!" grunted Browning. "Never knew anything like this before--never heard of anything like this! I believe I am still dreaming!" "Frank, are you hurt?" asked Diamond. "Not much," answered Merry. "They trapped me without much trouble. I didn't have a chance to get hurt." "But to be buried under the ground--to be in a grave!" "Eh? A grave? Why, Great Scott! It is the grave--and the stone with my name on it! This is the spot where I was caught. I was standing right here. A man dropped down out of this tree and struck on my shoulders. He laid me out, and it wasn't hard to tie me up. Then I was towed away under ground, and a guard was placed over me. It's a close little hole down there, but the guard left me after he had watched till he was tired, and then I finally managed to get free, and I tried to dig out where they had closed up what once was the mouth of the cave." "What's that?" asked Hodge. "A cave?" "Exactly; and there was an opening into it here at one time. They closed it up and made this fake grave over the spot. That's just what they did." "But your voice--we could hear it." "Look at this headstone. There is a hole straight down through it. Below there is a tube that runs down into the cave. Anyone at the lower end of the tube can speak so they can be heard here. That is how those mysterious whispers reached our ears. Oh, it is a great scheme! It made the place seem haunted."