gun, an' just as I got holt of it my foot
slipped on a wet board, an' down I come. The weapon went overboard, an'
that was the end of it. It riles me bad, 'cause that gun belonged to my
old daddy."

"When did this happen?" asked Randy.

"'Bout half an hour ago; anyway not much mor'n that."

"But the gun surely isn't lost for good. Why don't you dive after it?"

The man thrust his hands into his pockets and stared blankly at Randy.
The three fishermen smiled and nudged each other.

"Why don't you dive after it?" repeated Randy. "If you can tell me the
exact location I'll get it for you."

"You will, will you?" exclaimed the man impressively. "Waal, I reckon
you'd have a stiff contract. Did you fellows never hear of Rudy's Hole?
Thar it lies right in front of you, and there ain't no bottom to it."

"Hold on, Mose Hocker," exclaimed one of the fishermen. "There must be
bottom somewheres, of course, but it's mighty far down."

The boys looked at one another incredulously and smiled. The idea of a
bottomless hole in the Conodoguinet was ridiculous.

At that moment an old man with bent back and white hair hobbled down
the path from the road above, leaning heavily on his cane, which was his
constant companion.

"Good afternoon, Daddy Perkiss," exclaimed Mose Hocker. "I'm glad you
come along. I lost my gun out in the Hole a while ago, and this chap
here offers to dive arter it. You've lived around these parts nigh onto
eighty years. Tell him how fur down he'll have to go to reach that
weapon."

"Ho! Ho!" cackled Daddy Perkiss, as he tremblingly sat down on a drift
log, "the lad wants to dive in Rudy's Hole, does he? Well, let him try,
let him try."

The old man was silent for a moment, and his bleary eyes had a far away
expression as though they were looking into the dim past.

"It be sixty years since Jonas Rudy were drowned out here," he mumbled
in a shrill voice, "an they ain't found the body to this day. I were
away at the time, drivin' a teamster's wagon to Pittsburg, but I mind
hearin' the story when I come home. Many a time I've heard tell how they
tried to find bottom the next spring after Jonas was drowned.

"Mike Berry, the blacksmith over at Four Corners, brought his anvil, an'
the men made the women folks give up their clotheslines. Then they went
out on the hole in the old ferryboat, and let down the anvil. There was
two hundred feet of line in all, an' when half of it were out the men
lost their