It was fifteen minutes or so before they came to a giant rock that thrust its lichened bulk up from the forest mold. At least that was what it seemed at first--a single, flat-topped mass of stone, ten or twelve feet through and about as high. But passing close to one side, Tompkins and Sanson discovered that it was split in two pieces, one of which had fallen away from the other just enough to leave a jagged crack, not more than three feet wide, between them. A spreading mass of laurel screened the opening from any but the closest inspection, and as he pushed this to one side Dale gave a sudden start and stared intently at the ground beneath it. "Look at that!" he exclaimed, turning to Frank, who was close behind. The latter pressed forward and glanced over his shoulder. "What? Oh! You mean-- Gee! Didn't you break it off?" "No!" Dale's heart was beating unevenly as he bent to pick up the tiny broken twig. There were three leaves on it, as fresh and green as those on the parent bush; the broken end showed white and living. He met Sanson's glance and, dropping the twig, stepped into the jagged crevice. A moment later he gave a smothered cry. At his feet lay a scout hat of brown felt. A few inches beyond yawned a black hole, the leaves and mold and rotten branches about its edges scuffed and torn and freshly broken. CHAPTER XXV LOST MINE FOUND For a long moment the two boys stood motionless, staring wide-eyed and dismayed at the gaping hole before them. Then Dale came to himself with a sudden stiffening of the muscles. "Get Ranny!" he snapped over his shoulder. And even as the words passed his lips he was conscious of a thrill of thankfulness that the older fellow was here to depend upon. A second later he was stretched out on the ground, his head thrust over the hole. "Court!" he called loudly. "Court--are you down there?" For an instant there was no sound. Then his words beat back on him in a queer, sardonic kind of echo that sent a shiver flickering down his spine. He called again, but still there was no reply. Staring down, he tried to penetrate the darkness, but his straining sight could make out nothing but black void. A vivid picture of the mine-shaft he had once seen in Pennsylvania flashed into his mind and turned him cold. Then a step sounded behind him, and lifting his head, he looked into Ranny's set face. "Does he answer?" "No." "Let me get there." Scrambling to his feet, Dale flattened out against the rock and Ranny took his place. Two or three times the latter shouted Parker's name, but only the echo answered. Then he stood up, and, squeezing past Tompkins, pressed through the crowd of boys gathered about the entrance to the crevice. His face was a little pale, but his jaw was square and he held a scout whistle in one hand. A moment later three long shrill blasts resounded through the woods.