For all of a quarter of an hour the three Rover boys and Stanley Browne lay where they had been placed on the moldy straw. They breathed with difficulty, for the strange vapor still exercised its influence on their lungs.
At last Sam stirred and opened his eyes.
"Wha—what's the matter with me?" he murmured, and then sat up.
He could see next to nothing, for the cellar was dark. His head ached keenly, and he could not collect his senses. He also felt somewhat sick at the stomach.
"Dick! Tom!' he called. "Where are you?"
There was no reply, but presently he heard somebody stir.
"Don't—don't kill me!" murmured Stanley. "Take the ghosts away!"
"Stanley!" called Sam. "Whe—where are we?"
"Who—who is tha—that?" stammered Stanley, sitting up.
"It is I—Sam!"
"Whe—where are we, Sam?"
"I—I don't know."
"My head is go—going around like—like a top."
"So is mine. Tom! Dick!"
