The rival bicyclists

The other boys were relieved to think Gibson had so cleverly outwitted the sexton.

They hung around until Mallory grew angry and drove them all out of the grounds.

The sexton wanted to call on Will’s folks, but he had too much work on hand to take the necessary time that day.

The boys dispersed and went home, thinking Will had already reached his dwelling place.

Joe left also, and after supper he and Billy Smith walked around to Will’s home to learn what Gibson might have to say.

A surprise awaited them. Will had not yet come home, and his folks were much worried about him.

“He is afraid of being locked up,” said Billy.

And he told Mr. Gibson of what had taken place.

“He will not be locked up,” said Will’s father. “I will pay the damages. If you see him, tell him to come home at once, as his mother is worried.”

At nine o’clock Will had not yet turned up.

“See here,” said Joe to Billy. “Maybe something has happened to him.”

“What could happen?”

“Maybe he fell into a hole dug for a grave, or something like that.”

“I didn’t see any new holes,” said Billy.

“It’s queer, but I feel just as if we ought to go to the cemetery, and take a look around. Perhaps he was tackled as I was at the old coal mine.”

Billy shivered. He did not much like the idea, but finally Joe persuaded him to go along.

Although it was summer time, it was dark when the pair reached the cemetery gates. They found the big iron barriers closed.

“We’ll have to climb over,” said our hero. “Here goes!”

And over the iron fence he went, and Billy Smith followed.

Under the evergreens it was still darker, and Billy came to a halt.

“Supposing a ghost—” he began.

“Ghosts! nonsense! Don’t be foolish, Billy. There is no such thing as a ghost.”

Keeping side by side the two boys stole quickly along the path Will had taken while running from Mallory.

Soon the evergreens were passed, and they halted in a sort of hollow. To one side was a great stone vault, partly covered with dirt and sods. The vault had a heavy iron door, which was tightly closed.

“My gracious! what was that!” gasped Billy Smith.

A low, muffled sound had reached his ears.

“I don’t know. Listen!”

Again the sound echoed around them, sending a chill down their backbones.

“Sounds like somebody in a coffin trying to get out!” gasped Billy.

“You couldn’t hear a person in a coffin.”

Again they listened. Then Joe walked over to the door of the vault and knocked upon it. Immediately an answering knock came back.

“I’ll bet Will Gibson is locked in the vault!”

“Oh, Joe!” cried Billy.

He also sprang to the door.

“Is that you, Will?”

“Yes! yes! let me out!”

Poor Will Gibson was a prisoner in the vault. He had run in there to hide, closing the door behind him. The latch above the lock had sprung into place, and after Mallory and the others had gone away he had been unable to release himself.

Joe quickly raised the latch and pulled the door open.

Out of the darkness staggered Will. The air in the vault, which was empty, had nearly suffocated him, and he could scarcely stand.

Joe and Billy led him to a stone step, and there the three boys sat down to rest.

“Oh, how thankful I am that you came for me,” said Will. “I was going crazy in there!”

“It’s a terrible place to be locked in,” remarked Billy.

It was after eleven o’clock when the boys started to go home.

They had just passed the evergreen trees when Joe suddenly clutched both companions by the arm.

“Hist! look there!” he whispered.

And he nodded to their left, where three men were stealing along, one with a half-closed lantern, and the others with picks and shovels.

“What can they be up to?” asked Billy, after a breathless pause.

“They are going to dig up a dead body.”

“Body snatchers?” queried Will.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, what a shame!”

“They ought to be locked up!”

“They shan’t get any body to-night,” said Joe with sudden determination.

For a long while dead bodies had been taken from that cemetery. The authorities had tried in vain to catch the offenders. They were supposed to sell the bodies to some of the local medical colleges, but no clew to work upon could be obtained.

Night after night a watch had been set, but every time the body snatchers were too shrewd for the police.

No body had been taken now for over a month, and the authorities had relaxed their vigilance.

“What will you do?” asked Billy.

“Let one of us go for the police while the others watch these chaps.”

This was agreed on. But who should go?

Will was selected, and he promised to bring help with all possible speed.

As soon as he was gone, our hero and Billy Smith stole after the body snatchers.

They soon tracked them to a new portion of the cemetery.

Here, in a corner, a woman had been buried that very day.

Setting down the lantern behind a bush the three men took their picks and shovels and went to work with a will.

They wanted to get the body out, fill up the grave again, and be off ere midnight.

Three hands at one grave made quick work of the semi-loose dirt, and it was not long ere the box containing the coffin was reached.

“Will ought to be coming back soon,” murmured Billy.

“Go toward the gate and see if you can learn anything about him,” replied Joe. “I’ll stay on guard alone.”

And Billy went off as silently as a shadow.

With several ropes the body snatchers raised the box to the surface. Then with his shovel one of the gang started to pry off the lid of the box.

At that moment Joe heard a soft but well-known whistle coming from Will Gibson.

He replied, and so did Billy.

The grave despoilers started back.

“What’s that, Bill?” asked one.

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“It was a night bird,” said the third man. “Hurry up, Candors. We want to get that coffin to the wagon before twelve o’clock.”

Then Joe felt his arm touched. There was Will accompanied by two of the Lockport constables. Billy came behind the trio.

“Just in time!” whispered Joe.

“Will you boys help us?” asked the leading officer.

“Certainly,” said our hero.

“Of course,” added Billy and Will.

“Then let us surround these chaps. There are some sticks, better arm yourselves.”

A moment later the officers strode forward.

“Surrender! Hands up, all of you!”

The body snatchers were taken completely by surprise.

They started to run, but it was useless.

The leader was shot in the leg by one of the constables, and stumbled headlong.

In five minutes more every one of the body snatchers was handcuffed and on his way to jail.

The cemetery authorities were notified, and they of course at once had the coffin box put back into place.

The boys got warm praise for what they had done, and no more was said about the broken windows in the church steeple.

Later on the body snatchers, who proved to hail from a distant city, were all tried and sentenced to long terms in prison.