“What was the man doing in there, for that matter?” demanded Tom.

“He wasn’t very well dressed,” observed Harry.

“Yet he didn’t look like a tramp,” Dave put in.

“But the man himself, and the fact that he’s hurt or dead, are our two first points to consider,” spoke Dick quickly.  “If he’s hurt we are bound to bring him help.  If he’s dead, we’ll have to notify—–­some one.”

“I’d like to go back there and have a look at him,” quoth Tom, “but the biggest explosion of all may come out of that cottage at any moment now.”

“Yet the facts are that another explosion hasn’t come, and that the man ought to have help, as a matter of common decency,” Dick urged.

“I’ll run to the nearest house where people are living,” suggested Tom, pulling off his jacket and making ready for a run.

“What are you going to tell the folks?” Prescott queried.  “That the poor fellow is living or dead?  I’m going back to find out which.”

“We’ll all go,” offered Dave.

“But what happened to Rip and his mean crew?” asked Hazelton.

“We haven’t seen any signs that they were in the cottage at all,” Dick responded.  “If they were, as none of them came out, they must be badly hurt—–­perhaps worse.”

As a matter of fact, Ripley and his party had not gone into the cottage, but had continued directly towards their homes.

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.  Then we’ll find the red stuff mixed to a sort of mud, and-----”

“Come along out of this, you ghoul!” uttered Tom almost wrathfully, as he seized his friend by the arm.