That grisly thought gave all the boys a shudder as they plodded
up the slope, between the bushes and thence stepped into the clearing.
"Talk about dreaming!" muttered Dick, halting abruptly and staring
hard at the ground around the cottage.
In the first place, the cottage door was closed. There was no
smoke now coming out of the chimney, and all looked peaceful and
deserted, save for the presence of the Grammar School intruders.
There was no injured man lying on the ground.
"Crackey!" gasped Greg. "Yet we didn't all dream together, did
we?"
"Certainly not," muttered Dick, again starting forward. The others
followed him.
"This is where we saw the man fall, isn't it?" asked Dick.
"Yes," nodded Greg.
"But there was blood on the ground then," urged Dave. "I don't
see any now."
"It must have been goblin blood, then," laughed Tom rather unsteadily,
for this mystery began to look unearthly.
"Hold on," hinted Dick. "Doesn't it look as though fresh earth
had been sprinkled here?"
"Of course it does," nodded Harry. "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.
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