t they "break
camp." So they spread out in a line and took up the search again,
calling as they went. The light grew quickly and in the east the sky
took on a tinge of rose. Mr. Cobb stopped once and picked something from
the ground.

"Must be slate quarries about here," he said. "There's a lot of broken
pieces here and loose gravel. Yes, here's a hole," he went on, walking
forward, "but they only went down a few feet. I wonder if there are more
of them?"

Suddenly there was a cry from the other end of the line.

"Mr. Cobb, come see what I've found!"

It was Harry's voice and Mr. Cobb made his way to her where she stood at
the edge of a thicket of leafless brambles.

"What is it, Harry?" he asked.

For answer she held up a tiny bit of crimson yarn.

"What do you make of this?" asked the instructor, looking at it in a
puzzled way.

"I think it came from his sweater!" declared Harry triumphantly. "It was
on that branch there."

"Good for you, Harry!" cried Chub, who had joined them ahead of the
others. "Roy had his red sweater on and it's money to muffins that
thread was pulled out as he went by."

"He didn't go by, though," said Harry. "He went through. Don't you see
how the bushes are trampled down? Come on!"

CHAPTER XII

A NIGHT IN THE QUARRY

When Roy regained consciousness and opened his eyes he found himself in
pitch darkness. His head felt strangely dizzy and for a moment he lay
still and strove to recall what had happened to him. Then he remembered
and with a sudden fear at his heart moved cautiously. But although every
bone in his body felt bruised he was able to climb to his feet. The
effort however, left him so weak and dizzy that he reached out for
support, found a branch and clung to it while a minute or two passed.
And in clinging to it he became aware of the fact that his left hand
hurt him a good deal. Presently, when he could stand without holding on,
he felt of the aching member and found it swollen and sore to the touch.
The trouble seemed to be at the wrist and he wondered whether in falling
he had landed on it and broken it. But it didn't feel broken, for he
could bend it and even wriggle his fingers, although it pained horribly
to do it. Probably it was only a sprain or a dislocation; that could
keep. Meanwhile he would like very much to know where he was.

When he had fallen he had caught a glimpse of a dark pit, the sides of
which were hidden here and there by bushes. It