“We’ll go to the door,” Dick suggested.  “Perhaps we can get inside.  At any rate, we can find out whether there is any one inside who wants help.”

Dick put his hand on the doorknob, giving it a turn and a hard push.

“Door’s locked tightly now,” he announced.

“And it takes human hands to lock a door,” Reade observed sagely.

“Is there anyone inside who needs any help?” Prescott called loudly.

All was silent inside.  Then Dick played a tattoo on the locked door with his fists.  Still no sound from inside.

“All together, now,” urged Dick.  “Any—–­one—–­want—–­help?” bawled six lusty young voices in unison.

“There is only one voice that answers,” continued Dick, after a pause, as he turned to the others.  “That’s the silent voice of good sense.”

“What does it say, then,” challenged Dave.

“That we’ve done about all we can do here,” Dick replied.  “All we know is that a man seemed to have been hurt here.  If he was, he was able to take himself away, and to conceal the signs of his hurt before going.  Therefore we’ve no further excuse for meddling around here that I can see.”

“Let’s get along then,” Tom urged.  “And—–­whew!  It’s after half past six!”

“You’d better run, then,” jeered Dave.  “Your stomach won’t allow any more fooling!”

“Now, what ought I to say to a crank like Darry?” demanded Reade, turning to Prescott.

“You’d better overwhelm him, by saying what the man on the clubhouse steps said,” urged Dick.

“And what was that?” asked Tom eagerly.

“We-ell,” hesitated Dick, “I believe that’s still a secret.”

The Grammar School boys were now walking rapidly through the woods, but at mention of the clubhouse topic all had gathered close to their young leader.

“Aren’t you going to tell us now?” demanded Greg.

“I’m afraid not right away,” responded Prescott slowly.

“See here, Dickins,” growled Dave Darrin, “for months you’ve been stringing us about what the man on the clubhouse steps said.  Time and again you’ve sprung that on us, and you’ve never given us the slightest satisfaction.  Now, you’d either better tell us, or shut up about the man on the clubhouse steps.”

“All right,” sighed Dick.  “I’ll-----”

“Well?” insisted five boys in the same breath.

“I reckon I’ll shut up,” Dick rejoined.

“Say, somebody ought to hit Dickins!” grunted Reade.

“That’s right,” grinned Dan.  “Well—–­let Tom do it.”

Dick continued to smile mysteriously.  He enjoyed this good-natured teasing of his chums.

“What are we going to tell folks about what we saw at the cottage?” queried Dan after another five minutes of trudging.

“If we tell anything at all,” suggested Prescott, “I’ll tell you how we can win a prize.”

“How?” demanded Tom innocently.  “By telling the truth,” Dick smiled.  Soon after the Grammar School boys came out on the road.