Project Gutenberg's The Golden Boys at the Haunted Camp, by L. P. Wyman

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Title: The Golden Boys at the Haunted Camp

Author: L. P. Wyman

Release Date: August 1, 2020 [EBook #62802]

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8

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THE GOLDEN BOYS AT THE HAUNTED CAMP

“Here’s something,” he cried as he stooped over to examine the mark.

Go to sleep. G-o-t-o s-l-e-e-e-e-e-p.

The last note of “taps” rang lingeringly through the corridors of The Fortress and died away just as a knock sounded on the door of the room occupied by Bob and Jack Golden.

“Come in,” Bob shouted.

The door opened and the aid stuck in his head.

“Undressed?” he asked.

“No, we have ten o’clock lights tonight.”

“Well, you’re wanted on the phone down stairs.”

“Thanks.”

A moment later and Bob was standing before the officer-in-charge.

“Pass down to the phone, sir?” he asked.

“You are called?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, then.”

Bob saluted and stepped back into the corridor.

“Pass off the corridor, sir: officer-in-charge’s permission?” he asked saluting the aid.

“Yes, sir.” The aid returned the salute.

“That you, Bob?”

He at once recognized the answer to his “hello.”

“Sure is, Rex. How’s the boy?”

“All to the good. Sorry to pull you out of your downy cot so late.”

“If you’d sleep in it once you’d find that it isn’t so very downy but as it happens, I wasn’t in it,” Bob laughed. “Have ten o’clock lights tonight.”

“What a fearful dissipation. But I called you up to tell you that a friend of mine, a man by the name of Stokes, is coming down to see you and Jack tomorrow. He’s got a proposition he wants to put up to you. No, I’ll let him explain it himself, but I rather think you’ll bite. What time can you see him?”

“Any time between four and six.”

“Good! I’ll tell him to get the three forty-five out of Broad Street. That ought to get him up there about half past four. How’s Jack?”

“Fine and dandy as usual.”

“That’s good. I’ll try and run down in a few days myself. Mighty busy just now. Won’t keep you out of that downy cot any longer. Remember me to Jack. Bye-bye.”

“Who was it?” Jack asked as soon as Bob had reported his return to the corridor and re-entered the room.

“Rex. He says a man named Stokes is coming down tomorrow afternoon to see us.”

“What does he want?”

“Rex wouldn’t say.”

“Then I reckon we’ll have to wait and see.”

“Your reckoner is right on the job this time all right,” Bob laughed as he began to undress. “But you’d better get a hustle on or you’ll have to undress in the dark. It’s five minutes to ten now.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Jack grinned as he pulled off his blouse. But before he had time to get into his pajamas a light tap sounded on the door and the aid called softly:

“Lights.”

“Told you you’d get caught in the dark,” Bob chuckled from between the sheets.

As soon as drill was over the next afternoon the two boys hurried to their room where they changed from service to dress uniform.

“We’ll go down by the gate and wait for him,” Bob suggested.

They did not have long to wait for they had hardly reached the broad gateway to the Castle grounds when a middle aged man with a pleasant face turned in from the sidewalk.

“Pardon me,” he said as he saw them, “but can you tell me where I can find the Golden boys?”

“You won’t have to look very far,” Bob smiled.

“Then you are Bob and Jack?”

“Yes, sir, and you are Mr. Stokes.”

“The same,” the man smiled holding out his hand which they grasped in turn.

“We are very glad to meet a friend of Rex Dale,” Bob assured him.

“That’s as good a recommendation as one could well wish,” Mr. Stokes smiled.

“Indeed it is. Rex is the the best ever,” Jack declared.

“A very fine young man,” Stokes agreed. “But may we go somewhere where we can have a talk? Perhaps Rex informed you of the object of my visit.”

“No, sir, he only said that you had a proposition you wished to put up to us,” Bob replied leading the way toward the building. “We can go into the reception room. There’s not likely to be anyone there at this time of day,” he added.

“Now then,” Mr. Stokes began as soon as they were seated in the cool reception room, “my proposition, as Rex called it, is this. Late last fall I purchased a camp at Chesuncook Lake up in Maine. I suppose you’ve been there?”

“A number of times,” Bob replied.

“This camp is situated on the right side of the lake as you go up and is about ten miles from the Ripogenus Dam. It consists of a large central building containing the office, kitchen and dining-room. Then there are ten log cabins of different sizes each having a sitting room and from two to five bedrooms. There are two log stables or, perhaps, you would call them barns, and a fair sized boat house. I have been going there for a number of years and, having, what I thought, an excellent opportunity to buy the place, I took advantage of it intending to run it as an investment.

“The man of whom I bought did not manage it himself and I thought I was fortunate to secure the services of the same man who had run it for a number of seasons. He is a half-breed but a most capable man and thoroughly knows his business. Jacques opened the place early in May as quite a number of patrons like to come there for the early spring fishing.

“I left everything to him as he knows much more about the place than I do. But three weeks ago I received a letter from him which was so startling in its import that I left at once. I found the place almost deserted although Jacques assured me that he had opened with a much larger number of guests than usual.”

“What was the matter?” Bob asked as Mr. Stokes paused.

“You’ll probably laugh at me when I tell you but the truth of the matter is the guests were scared away by a ghost.”

“A ghost!”

Bob and Jack uttered the exclamation in the same breath.

“Yes, it seems that the camp is haunted.”

“But—” Bob started to ask a question but Mr. Stokes interrupted:

“No, of course, I don’t believe in ghosts, but there’s something mighty strange going on up there.”

“Such as what?” Jack asked.

“Well, this ghost is a most accomplished one it seems: does about all the tricks you ever read of ghosts doing: groaning in a most frightful manner, pulling the bed clothes off one in the middle of the night, banging doors and all the rest of the stunts. I spent nearly two weeks trying to catch it or him and couldn’t learn a single thing. A number of guests came while I was there but the bravest stayed only two nights. Now you can easily see that unless a stop can be put to it my investment is ruined. I can’t keep guests and I doubt if I could give the place away as things are now.”

“It’s too bad, that’s a fact, but I hardly see where we come in,” Bob said as he paused.

“You will in a minute. What I want is for you two boys to go up there and solve the mystery.”

“But if you couldn’t—’ Bob began, but Mr. Stokes interrupted:

“Remember I’ve talked with Rex Dale about you boys and he has told me some of the things you have done, so it seems to me that getting the best of a few ghosts ought to be a simple matter for you.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Bob shook his head. “Rex is very apt to exaggerate about some things but, of course, we’ll be glad to do what we can for you, eh Jack?”

“What you say goes for me,” Jack grinned.

“Then that’s settled,” and Mr. Stokes heaved a huge sigh of relief. “Now I’ll tell you what I think will be best. You can go up there as boarders paying the regular rates which, of course, will be returned to you, and not let anyone know that you are working for me. You’ll find the fishing good, as you probably know, even in the summer, and I don’t think the time will hang heavy on your hands. Now as to terms, how will this suit you? I’ll engage you for one month and will pay you five hundred dollars whether or no and if you succeed I’ll give you a thousand.”

“That’s altogether too much,” Bob declared and Jack nodded his head in agreement.

“Please let me be the judge of that,” Mr. Stokes smiled. “I am ashamed to say that I’m a pretty rich man and the money doesn’t count. Buying the place was just a fad, but I hate to fail at anything I undertake, so we’ll say no more about the money end of it.”

“If that’s the case we’re more than satisfied and we’ll do our best to earn the thousand,” Bob said.

“I’m sure of it and I certainly hope you will succeed.”

“But have you any suspicion as to who’s at the bottom of it?” Bob asked.

“Not a glimmer,” Mr. Stokes declared. “Of course someone is at the bottom of it, as you say, and I think I know why even if I do not know who.

“Why, then?”

“What would you consider the most likely reason? I’d like to see if your idea agrees with mine.”

“Well, I should say that someone wants to get hold of the place cheap and thinks that he’s taking a good way to do it.”

“My idea exactly. I hardly think there can be much doubt about it as I have no enemy in that part of the world who might be trying to injure me.”

“How about the man who’s running it? Jacques, I believe you said his name is,” Jack asked.

“Yes, Jacques Bolduc. Of course, I’ve considered him, but I’m pretty sure he’s not guilty. In the first place he’s run it for several years and has always been perfectly honest so the man who sold it to me assured me. And then, when I bought it, I offered to let him have a half interest in it and pay for it out of the profits.”

“And he turned down an offer like that?” Bob asked.

“Yes. He thanked me very prettily, but said he’d always worked for wages and would rather keep on that way. I thought it rather strange but you know those fellows well enough to understand that there’s no accounting for the way their minds run.”

“That’s true too,” Bob declared, “but it seems strange that he should turn down so good an offer as that.”

“And there’s no one else you suspect?” Jack asked.

“Not a soul, and mind, I didn’t mean that I suspect Jacques. It was only an idea. You see, although I’ve been going up there for some years I really know but a few people, almost no one you might say.”

“That’s not strange seeing it’s a pretty wild and unsettled country,” Bob suggested.

“And how soon can you get up there?”

“Let’s see,” Bob mused. “Commencement is day after tomorrow, which will be Wednesday. We’ll start for home early Thursday morning and we ought to get there Friday night or Saturday at the latest. We’re going to make the trip on our motorcycles which we had shipped to us a few days ago.”

“You run them with an electric cell. I think Rex told me,” Mr. Stokes broke in.

“That’s right. We’ll have to spend a few days with the folks and it’ll probably be about the middle of next week when we get there.”

“That’ll be all right. I don’t want to hurry you although you can, of course, understand that the sooner the matter is cleared up the better it will suit me.”

“Well, as I said before, we’ll do our best but I hope you haven’t got your expectations up too high. We may fall down on the job, you know, and I’d hate to have you disappointed,” Bob smiled.

“If you do I’ll know it’s not your fault,” Mr. Stokes assured them. “But I’m betting you won’t. And now I’ll not keep you any longer, only I want you to know that my mind’s at rest now that you’ve taken the job.”

“What do you think of it?”

They had accompanied Mr. Stokes as far as the gate and were walking slowly back to the building. It was Jack who asked the question.

“That’s a hard question,” Bob replied slowly. “You see we haven’t much of anything to come and go on so far. It may be a simple thing and then again it may not.”

“And I’m rather inclined toward the latter view,” Jack declared decisively.

“Why?”

“How did Mr. Stokes strike you?” Jack asked instead of answering Bob’s question.

“Like a pretty keen business man.”

“Well, that’s the answer. He impressed me about the same way and I figure that if he couldn’t find out who’s cutting up those monkey shines, it’s not going to be a very simple problem.”

“Your reasoning’s good all right: no doubt about that,” Bob assured him. “I reckon we’ll have our work cut for us fast enough. But, tell me, do you think it’s that fellow, Jacques?”

“Hardly. What do you think?”

“Same thing.”

“Well it won’t be the first time we’ve had a run in with ghosts,” Jack laughed.

“But not just this kind,” Bob reminded him.

“I reckon we’ll find that this or these are not so much different from the others,” Jack insisted.

“Maybe not. If we’re successful I believe I would write a book entitled, ‘Ghosts I have met’.” Bob laughed as they mounted the steps at the front entrance.

“What did you think of my friend Stokes?”

The last taps following the sham battle of commencement day had sounded and Bob and Jack had hurried to greet their friend Rex Dale whom they had spied in the stand. They had not seen him for several weeks and had hurried him up to their room and he was sitting on one of the “downy cots” while they were getting into “cits.”

“He impressed me as being a mighty fine man,” Bob replied.

“Same here,” Jack added.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” Rex told him. “He is a fine man, one of the best and, if you’ll turn your heads so as to hide your blushes, I’ll tell you that he was very favorably impressed with you.”

“I wish you were going up with us,” Bob declared a little later, after they had talked over the matter of the “ghost.”

“Don’t I? But it’s impossible just now. You see we’re tremendously busy at the office and father’s not at all well and I’ve simply got to stick for awhile. Maybe in a couple of weeks I can get away for a few days and if I can be assured you’ll see me just as quick as I can get there. I can smell the spruce and the pine right now to say nothing of the fun of hunting down that ghost.”

“Mr. Stokes said he was a rich man, is that right?” Bob asked.

“He’s worth several millions. Why?”

“Well, you see, he offered to pay us a thousand dollars in case we are successful and five hundred if we’re not and it’s a pretty big sum of money to pay a couple of boys and—”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Rex interrupted laughingly. “The money’s nothing to him and you needn’t hesitate to take it. I fancy he’d pay a million right this minute to have the mystery cleared up.”

“That’s all right then. I just wanted to be sure about it.”

“I suppose Sherlock has the matter all figured out,” Rex laughed nodding at Jack. “You notice that he hasn’t said much. Regular ‘still waters run deep’ sort of fellow.”

“But when he does talk it usually makes sense,” Bob declared with a proud look toward his brother.

“I’ll tell the world it does,” Rex said hitting Jack a resounding whack on the back.

“My natural modesty, of course, prevents me from taking part in the conversation at this point,” Jack said soberly.

Rex had insisted on taking the boys up to his Philadelphia home for supper and afterward to the theatre so it was after twelve o’clock when they got back. They were to leave early so they lost no time in getting to bed after setting the alarm clock for four o’clock.

Day was just breaking when the two boys sprang into the saddles of their motorcycles and with a farewell wave of the hand toward “Old Main” headed for Philadelphia. Noiselessly they turned into the pike, for the wheels, equipped with electric motors in place of the usual noisy gas engine, gave forth no sound as they sped through the morning mist.

“There’ll be no traffic for three hours and we ought to make a hundred miles in that time,” Bob had said just before they started.

They did better for it was but a few minutes after six o’clock when they drove on to the ferry boat at Dykeman Street a hundred and fifteen miles from their starting point.

“At this rate we’ll be home easy tomorrow night,” Jack declared as he shut off his motor.

“But we can’t go so fast the rest of the day,” Bob cautioned him. “We don’t want to get pinched and you know the cops are pretty plenty along the Boston Post Road.”

“I know, but we’ve got a dandy start and ought to have no trouble in making Uncle Jim’s by six easy. It’s only about three hundred miles from here.”

“But that’ll be averaging pretty close to thirty miles an hour.”

For another hour they found the traffic light and it still lacked a few minutes to eight o’clock when they reached New Haven.

“Half an hour for breakfast,” Bob announced as he brought his wheel to a stand in front of a restaurant.

“Sounds good,” Jack declared as he joined his brother.

“And here’s hoping it’ll taste better,” Bob laughed as he pushed open the door.

A couple of miles outside of Hartford, Jack had a bad blowout in his front tire and it took the better part of an hour to make the repair.

“I told you you’d better get a new shoe for that wheel before we started,” Bob said as he rode slowly back to where Jack was looking at the hole.

“And you were right as usual,” Jack laughed. “Lucky I’ve got a good strong patch.”

The remainder of the day’s trip was uneventful and it was just beginning to get dark when they rode up to their uncle’s home in Winthrop a few miles outside of Boston.

It was nearly ten o’clock before they could get away the next morning. Jack had been down to the town before going to bed and purchased a new shoe for his front wheel and it took some time to put it on and a much longer time to convince their Uncle and Aunt that it was impossible for them to stay over a few days.

“But we’ll make you a good long visit the first of September, before we go back to college,” Bob promised as they mounted the wheels.

“Two hundred miles to go,” Jack cried as they got under way. “We ought to make it by supper time.”

“Either that or jail,” Bob laughed back.

The traffic through Boston was very heavy and, do their best, it was over an hour before they were outside the city limits.

“I’d like to see the cow that laid out the streets of Boston,” Jack declared as he pulled up alongside his brother as the traffic began to thin out. “I’ll bet it was a blind cow or at least one with the blind staggers.”

“The streets aren’t exactly what you’d call straight.”

“Straight! I know my way about fairly well, but honestly all the way through I was expecting to meet myself coming back.”

“Twenty-five miles an hour along here,” Bob shouted about three hours later.

Jack, who was a few yards ahead, slowed down and allowed Bob to pull up beside him.

“What’s the idea?” he asked. “This is a good straight road.”

“That’s just the idea, it’s too good and the cops are right on the job along here. You see it’s only about five miles into Portland and it’s a favorite ‘pick ’em up’ stretch. Don’t you remember Slim Jones telling how he got pinched last year for doing thirty-eight and it costing him thirty-seven dollars and ninety-two cents? Well it was right along here that it happened. Safety first, you know.”

Put-put-put-put-put-a-put put.

“There’s one of ’em now,” Jack said as he turned his head. “Hope to goodness he isn’t after us.”

A few minutes later the approaching motorcycle drew up alongside and the driver, a young fellow about the age of Bob, dressed in the uniform of the cycle corps of Maine, waved his hand for them to stop.

“Say, for the love of Mike, what kind of machines have you got there?” he asked as they dismounted. “At first I thought you were coasting but when you went up that hill a piece back I knew you couldn’t be, but you didn’t make a bit of noise. What kind of a muffler you got?”

“None at all.” Bob smiled. “You see these wheels are run by an electric motor.”

“But how about the battery? I don’t see any place for one.”

Bob opened a small case strapped behind his saddle and took out a brass cylinder about eight inches long and an inch thick.

“This is the kind of cell we use.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“We made it.”

“Then you must be the Golden boys.”

Bob smilingly acknowledged the accusation.

“I’ve heard of you and I’m mighty glad to meet you,” and the officer held out his hand.

“And we thought we were pinched,” Jack grinned as he grasped his hand.

“Not this time,” the officer smiled, “and you can go the limit for all of me but you’d best not go over thirty-five as I’m not the only cop along here.”

Bob took several minutes explaining the working of the motor to the officer and then he accompanied them into Portland.

“If you ever get held up along here send for Jim Pratt,” he told them as he bade them good bye in front of the Congress Square hotel.

Bob invited him in to the hotel to take dinner with them, but he refused on the ground that he was on duty and might get into trouble.

“Pretty nice chap, that,” Jack said as they entered the hotel.

“Yes, he seemed to be, but you might not have thought so if he’d happened along a little sooner when we were doing forty-five,” Bob declared.

A few minutes later Bob gave his brother a kick beneath the table just as the latter was conveying a juicy bit of steak to his mouth.

“What’s the—” Jack began and then stopped warned by the look on Bob’s face.

“Don’t turn around now, but in a minute look back of you at the man sitting close to the door,” Bob whispered.

A moment later Jack dropped his napkin and, in picking it up, cast a hasty glance toward the door.

“Ever see him before?” Bob whispered as he straightened up in his chair.

“It’s King.”

“You sure?”

“I’d know that mug if I saw it in Egypt.”

“He’s been watching us for some minutes.”

“Did you lock your wheel?” Jack asked referring to a switch, cunningly hidden beneath the saddle, which made it practically impossible for anyone to start the motor.

“Sure.”

“Then I guess they’re safe. But what do you suppose he’s doing here?”

“Don’t know, but he’s going now.”

“Well, I hope we don’t see him again.”

They continued with their dinner for a few minutes then suddenly Bob jumped up from his chair and, without a word, rushed from the room. Too surprised to follow at once Jack reached the steps of the hotel just as Bob was hurrying back.

“He’s got it,” he gasped.

“You mean the bikes?”

“No, I mean that cell I was fool enough to leave in my saddle bag.”

“Great guns in the morning!” Jack’s face was the picture of despair.

“Oh, what a fool I was,” Bob groaned. “After all we’ve been through to keep those cells out of his hands to go and leave it there for him to take.”

“What’ll we do?”

“What can we do? He’s got it and goodness knows where he is now. Of course we’ll report it at the police station, but I doubt if it’ll do much good. He’s tried too hard to get hold of one of those cells to make any false moves now that he’s got it.”

Too downhearted to finish their dinner they paid their bill and a few minutes later were giving a description of the man who, they believed, had taken the cell, to the chief of police.

“I know the man,” the chief assured them. “He escaped from prison about a year ago and not a trace of him was found. Are you sure it was he?”

“Absolutely,” Bob replied. “Of course he’s changed a lot and I doubt if many would recognize him, but you see I got to know him pretty well and I’m sure I couldn’t have been mistaken.” And he told the officer about the time when King had kidnapped him and had tried to force him to disclose the secret of the cell.

“We’ll do our best to catch him of course,” the chief promised. “Leave your address and if we get him I’ll let you know.”

“It’s a pretty slim chance that they’ll catch him,” Bob said gloomingly as they left the station house.

“But I’m banking on that chance so cheer up, old man. It’s never so bad, but that it might be worse, you know,” Jack grinned as he hopped to his saddle.

They had nearly reached Brunswick, a small town some twenty miles from Portland and were riding side by side when Bob spied an automobile in the middle of the road some distance ahead.

“Someone having engine trouble I guess,” he said as he noticed a man leaning over the raised hood.

Evidently the man did not hear them as they rode up behind him and stopped for he did not look up or turn his head.

“Anything we can do to help?” Bob asked.

The man gave a sudden start and turned around and the boys found themselves looking into the eyes of the man King.

“You?” the man growled, and then by an effort tried to efface the look of surprise from his face. “Pardon me,” he said. “At first I thought you were someone I knew.”

“I guess you made no mistake about that,” Jack told him.

“Anyhow we know you all right,” Bob added.

“You are mistaken, I tell you. But who do you think I am?”

“Your name was King the last time we saw you,” Jack replied.

“I told you, you were mistaken. My name is Long and always has been Long,” the man snapped.

“Well, no need to get mad about it,” Bob said easily as he moved around toward the rear of the car. “We all make mistakes, you know. And I suppose this man’s name never was Nip,” he cried as he leaned over the side of the car and saw a man with a hunched back crouching on the floor.

“Suppose it is or suppose it isn’t, what are you going to do about it?” the man demanded as he came close to Bob’s side.

“Then you acknowledge that his name is Nip?”

“I acknowledge nothing.”

“All right, suit yourself about it,” Bob smiled. “I know who you are and you know that I know it, but if it suits you to deny it I’m sure I’ve no objection.”

“Well, what do you want?” King snapped.

“We want the cell you stole from my saddle bag.”

“And I suppose you think you’ll get it,” King sneered.

“I’m not quite sure about that,” Bob said slowly, “but one thing I am sure and that is that the police will get you in a very short time if we don’t.”

King started violently.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You heard me the first time,” Bob’s voice was stern.

For a moment the man hesitated as though undecided what to do then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he said as he turned again to his engine:

“You’d better run along now. You can’t bluff me and I’ve wasted all the time on you that I intend to.”

“As you please,” Bob said as he took hold of the handle bars of his wheel. Then, turning to Jack, he added: “Come on, Jack, we’re late now.”

But as he spoke he gave his brother a wink which the latter was quick to understand. King was leaning over the engine of his car as Bob pushed his wheel past and, before he knew what happened, the boy had caught him by the shoulder with his left hand and pulled his head around and, before he had time to defend himself, a well directed blow, delivered to the point of his chin, stretched him on the ground.

“I hated like the dickins to sneak up behind him and hit him like that,” Bob afterward confided to Jack, “but I figured it would be wrong to let him get away, let alone the fact that he had the cell.”

For the moment Bob had forgotten the hunchback in the back of the car, but he was reminded of his existence by a loud shout from Jack just as King fell.

“Look out, he’s got a gun!”

As Jack uttered the cry he sprang for the running board of the car letting his wheel drop in the road.

Bang!

The revolver spoke but Jack had struck the hunchback’s wrist just as his finger pressed the trigger and the bullet flew harmlessly into the air. Before he could aim again Jack was over the side of the car and had snatched the gun from his hand. With a snarl of rage the hunchback threw his arms about Jack’s neck and dragged him to the floor of the car. As he went down the boy threw the revolver over the side of the car and as he went down he was doing his best to keep the man’s hands away from his throat but, in spite of his efforts, the hunchback’s big right hand closed over his windpipe and, as he felt his grip tighten, he realized that, so far as he was concerned, the fight would be short unless he was able to break the hold. He was gasping for breath when, after what seemed a long time, he got both hands around the man’s wrist. Exerting all his strength he pushed against the arm and was relieved to note that his grip was loosening. Then with a sudden jerk he dragged the hand away and at the same time drew into his lungs a great gulp of air. It gave him new strength and in another second he was on top and his hands were clasped over the throat of the hunchback.

Meanwhile, Bob, having confidence in Jack’s ability to take care of himself, had been busy tying King’s hands behind his back with a piece of stout cord which he had taken from his saddle bag. King had not yet opened his eyes when, judging from the sounds proceeding from the car, that Jack might need his help, he sprang to the running board. But he found the battle over so far as Jack was concerned. The hunchback was gasping for breath and had ceased to struggle.

“Let him up now, Jack.”

“Righto,” and Jack got to his feet leaving the hunchback gasping on the floor.

“Get up, Nip. You’re not dead yet,” Bob ordered.

The man slowly sat up.

“Where’s King?” demanded in a week voice.

“He’s taking a nap just now,” Bob laughed grimly.

The entire affair had not occupied more than three minutes and not a car had passed then although they were on a main road. But just then the chug of motorcycle came to their ears and a moment later a cycle officer drew up beside them.

“What’s going on here?” the officer demanded looking suspiciously at the two boys.

Before they could answer King weakly cried out:

“These robbers did their best to—” he began when Bob interrupted him.

“Let me tell—”

But the officer in turn interrupted him.

“One at a time here. You have the floor,” he said, nodding to King, who was now sitting up and leaning against the front wheel of the car. Making his voice sound as weak as possible King told how his car had broken down and the two boys had happened along and, at the point of a gun, had demanded his money. It was a plausible story as he told it and more than once the boys saw the officer look askance at them. When he had finished he turned to Bob.

“Now I’ll hear your side.”

Bob told him the truth in a few words and as he finished the officer said:

“You say those wheels run by an electric motor?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s see one of the cells and if he’s got one like it it’ll go a good ways toward corroborating your story.”

“That’s all we ask,” Bob declared as he pulled the cell out beneath his saddle. “Here’s the one I’m using and the one he stole is exactly like it.”

A brief search disclosed the missing cell in one of the rear pockets of the car and Bob pulled it out with an exclamation of satisfaction.

“What have you to say now?” the officer asked King.

“Nothing except that it’s a plant. I never saw the thing before.”

“I’m afraid it won’t wash,” the officer shook his head. “I’m satisfied that you’re all right and have told the truth,” he added turning to Bob. “But I’ll have to ask you to go into town with me.”

“That’s all right,” Bob assured him. “We’re going that way anyhow.”

“Wonder what’s the matter with his car?” the officer said as he bent over the hood.

While they had been talking several cars had passed and one or two had half stopped, but the officer had waved them ahead.

“Maybe we can locate the trouble,” Bob said as he got into the car and pressed the starter.

“No spark,” he declared as he leaped out and went around to the other side. “Put down that hood a minute, Jack, till I get at the magneto. Nothing but a broken wire,” he said a moment later as he again got into the seat.

And this time the engine started at once as he pressed the starter.

“Can you run it in if I lead your wheel?” the officer asked.

“Sure.”

“All right, then. Now you get in back there and mind, no funny business, because I’ll be right alongside,” he added turning to King.

King obeyed the order sullenly all the bravado gone from his face.

It was only a few miles to the town and in a few minutes they drew up in front of the police station. Neither King or the hunchback had spoken a word during the trip, but the former gave Bob a look as he was ordered out of the car which made the boy shudder.

“Please come in a minute,” the officer asked the boys and they accompanied him into the office of the chief of police.

As soon as the latter had heard the story he called the police station at Portland and, after a brief conversation, told them that an officer from that city, who knew King by sight, was on his way to identify him. He arrived in a little over a half hour and, as soon as he was shown the prisoners, declared that he recognized them.

“If I’m not mistaken there’s a reward for that fellow King,” the chief told them as they returned to his office.

“They deserve it,” the policeman declared but both boys insisted that any reward should be divided into three parts and that the officer should have one part.

It was after five o’clock before they were again on their way but with less than a hundred miles to go they felt sure they could make it before dark.

“That is, unless we run up against another adventure,” Jack laughed as he leaped into his saddle.

“And here’s hoping we don’t,” Bob added following suit.

His hope was realized and shortly after eight o’clock they turned into the driveway at home and in another minute were greeting their parents and sister.

“It’s a good thing your mother and I are worry proof.”

Mr. Richard Golden laughed as he pushed his chair back from the table and looked across at his two sons. During the meal they had acquainted the family with the story of their adventure on the way home, and the remark had followed its conclusion.

“Which same takes a big load off my mind,” Bob declared with a sly wink at his mother.

“I think I shall put you both in a glass case this summer and never let you out of my sight,” Mrs. Golden smiled.

“Then someone would be sure to throw a rock and break the glass and we’d be certain to get all cut up,” Jack laughed.

“By the way, what’s on the program for the summer?” Mr. Golden asked. “Are you going to capture bootleggers, or hunt for buried treasure or some other simple little thing of the sort?”

“We’re going to hunt ghosts,” Jack replied pulling a long face.

“Hunt what?” Mrs. Golden cried.

“Ghosts.”

“Where did you lose them?” their sister, Edna, asked.

“Trying to be funny, ah,” Jack said with mock severity.

“Not at all,” Edna assured him. “You don’t hunt for a thing unless it’s lost, do you?”

“Fooling aside,” Mr. Golden asked. “Just what do you mean, Jack?”

“Just what I said. Your elder son and I have taken a contract to free the big Maine woods of ghosts.”

“Big or little ones?” Edna gibed.

“We do not go after small things,” Jack replied sternly.

“Promise to bring me home the first one you catch. I’ve always wanted a nice little ghost to play with,” Edna laughed.

“But I told you that we are after only big ones.”

“Bob, will you kindly tell us what he is raving about?” Mr. Golden asked, making a great effort to keep his face straight.

So Bob explained about the offer Mr. Stokes had made them.

“Well, I don’t suppose you’ll be in any more danger than usual,” his father sighed when he had finished. “When do you start?”

“Tuesday morning, if you are willing.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Then we don’t start at all, sir.”

“Thanks, son, but it seems like a worthy object, only I want you to promise that you’ll both be careful and not take unnecessary chances.”

“We’ll do that,” both boys replied together.

Tuesday morning came in due time and, after an early breakfast, they were ready to start, having packed what things they would be apt to need the night before.

“Don’t forget your promise,” Mr. Golden cautioned as they jumped into the saddles of their motorcycles.

“We won’t,” both shouted back, waving their hands.

“And don’t forget my little ghost,” Edna called after them.

But they were too far away for her to catch their answer.

Moosehead Lake, the largest body of water in Maine, lies about sixty miles to the north of Skowhegan. Their way was by a dirt road but as it was in fairly good shape and there was but little traffic they made excellent time and it was but a few minutes after nine o’clock when they rode into Greenville, a small town at the foot of the lake.

“Two hours flat,” Bob glanced at his watch as they stopped in front of the general store where, he had often declared you could buy anything from a toothpick to a second hand pulpit.

Entering the store they made a few purchases and in a few minutes were again on their way. After making a sharp turn to the left on the outskirts of the town they climbed a long hill and at its top Bob, who was slightly ahead, held up his hand as a signal that he was about to stop.

“That’s what I call a view,” he declared pointing toward the north.

“I’ll say it is,” Jack agreed enthusiastically.

Before them stretched the broad expanse of Moosehead Lake, its surface dotted with many small islands and bordered with rugged mountains whose tops lost themselves in the blue haze thirty miles away. Half way up the lake Mount Kineo reared its rocky head while the Kineo House, one of the finest summer hotels in the country, nestled at its foot.

“I’ll bet Europe has got nothing on this,” Jack declared.

“If it has I’d sure like to see it. But that reminds me of a story.”

“Go ahead if it isn’t too long,” Jack told him. “But make it snappy.”

“Once upon a time,” Bob began, “an American was travelling in Europe and turning up his nose at everything his companion, an Englishman, showed him. ‘We’ve got a bigger one than that in America,’ he would say. Finally they came to Mount Vesuvius, which, at the time was belching out volumes of smoke. ‘There,’ asked the Englishman, ‘have you got a bigger volcano than that in America?’ The American hesitated a moment then said, ‘Mebby not but we’ve got a waterfall that would put the blamed thing out in two minutes.’”

“Three cheers for that guy,” Jack laughed. “He had the right spirit.”

Leaving the town behind they struck into the forest.

“Say good bye to civilization,” Bob cried. “We won’t pass another house except three summer camps and a log cabin for forty miles.”

The road was an excellent one having been constructed by the Great Northern Paper Company and opened to the public only a short time before.

“Any speed limit up here?” Jack asked as he increased his pace.

“Not unless you see a cop,” Bob laughed.

Faster and faster the wheels sped until Bob’s speedometer registered fifty miles an hour.

“This is fast enough,” he shouted.

“Righto,” Jack shouted back. “Keep her steady.”

A few minutes later they flew past the Lilley Bay House and then for miles only the unbroken forest lined the road, until about twelve miles further on they came to a small log cabin, the headquarters of the Maine forester. On the left side of the road was a small spring house and they stopped for a drink of water.

“Seems as though there must be ice in that water,” Jack declared after he had taken a good drink.

“It’s not much above freezing for a fact,” Bob agreed.

“Thirty-six degrees all der time.”

The boys jumped at the sound of the voice and saw a man evidently about thirty years old, standing by the edge of the road. His face, though dark as an Indian’s was pleasant of mien and, although he was evidently a half-breed, the feeling was instinctive that here was a man one could trust.

“And it’s as good as it is cold,” Bob smiled.

“Oui, eet ver’ bon. But what dem bike you ride? Me no hear sound.”

Bob explained the construction of the wheels and the man showed great interest.

“Dem ver’ fine bikes,” he declared as he finished.

“Are you the forester?” Jack asked.

“Oui, dat me, Pierre Beaumont.”

“But I thought the state always appointed an American.”

“Me American. Geet papers, oui,” the man drew himself up proudly. “Me een big war.”

“Shake,” and Jack held out his hand and Bob quickly did the same.

“Don’t you get lonesome here all by yourself?” Jack asked after they had talked of the war for several minutes.

“Non, no geet lonesome. Plenty work most all time. But whar you two go?”

“We’re going up to Chesuncook to Jacques Bolduc’s camp to catch trout,” Bob explained.

Instantly a strange look came to the man’s eyes and he quickly shook his head.

“You no go to dat camp.”

“Why not?” Jack asked.

“She one ver’ bad camp,” he answered still shaking his head.

“But what’s bad about it?” Bob asked. “I thought he kept a good camp.”

“Oui, Jacques, heem keep bon camp. Heem frien’ to me. Heem fine feller, but you no go to heem camp. Heem got ghost dar.”

The man spoke rapidly and the boys could see that he was very much excited.

“Maybe we’ll catch the ghost,” Bob laughed.

“No catch heem ghost. No can shoot heem.”

“What do you know about it?” Bob asked. “We’ve heard there was a ghost up there.”

“My brudder, Baptist, heem work up dar for Jacques two-tree year, but heem no work dar no more. Heem come here two-tree week ago an’ heem tell me ’bout dat ghost. Heem see heem one dark night. Heem big, ten feet mebby twelve, all white an’ fire. Heem say heem ver’ bad ghost, oui. You no go that camp.”

“But did you ever hear of a ghost hurting anyone?” Bob asked.

The man scratched his head slowly as if thinking deeply.

“My fader, heem see ghost an’ heem die one week after.”

“What did he die of?” Jack asked.

“Heem geet ver’ bad fever, heem die. You no go, eh?”

Neither of the boys laughed. They had too much respect for the man to let him see that they thought him foolish in his fear of ghosts. It is a common belief among the half-breeds and cannucks of northern Maine and very few of them are free of it. So Bob was perfectly sober as he told him that they were not afraid of the ghost and would go. The forester showed deep concern and again shook his head as he said:

“You ver’ brave boys, but you no stay dar long. You see heem ghost you come away ver’ queek, oui.”

After another hour’s ride through the deep forest broken only by two summer camps they reached the huge Ripogenus Dam, a mighty structure of cement, the third largest in the United States, also built by The Great Northern Paper Company. The dam, at the foot of Chesuncook Lake, 308 feet long and 78 feet high, is so wide that three automobiles can be driven abreast across it. At one end is a chute down which the logs are sluiced in the spring following the winter’s cut.

It was not their first visit to the dam, but they never tired of gazing down into the deep gorge where now only a small stream of water leaped from rock to rock.

In the distance, but seemingly so near that it appeared to be guarding the entrance to the gorge, rose Mount Katahdin, the highest mountain in the state, its sides heavily wooded almost to the top.

“This is almost as grand a view as that other one,” Bob declared as he leaned his wheel against the wall of the dam.

“In a way it’s greater,” Jack insisted and Bob did not dispute him.

“Do you know how far it is to Katahdin?” Jack asked.

“A little over seven miles, I believe.”

“It doesn’t look more than a mile at the most.”

“Distances are very deceptive in this clear air,” Bob told him.

“Guess I know that. But this isn’t getting up to camp. I wonder where the dam keeper is.”

“What kind of a keeper did you say?” Bob almost shouted.

“I said the dam keeper, why?”

“Nothing only it sounded kind of funny coming from you.”

“Oh, I see,” Jack laughed. “But I didn’t put an N on the word.”

While talking they were walking slowly toward the end of the dam where there was a small house. Bob knocked on the door and it was opened almost immediately by an old Irishman.

“Good morning, sir,” Bob began.

“The top uv the mornin’ ter yess,” the old man grinned holding out his hand which Bob was quick to grasp. “An’ whot kin I be after doin’ fer yess?”

“We want to get up to Jacques Bolduc’s camp.”

“Ye don’t say. Don’t believe thar’s bin a blessed soul up thar fer over a week. Whot wid all the talk aboot ghosts it’s scared ’em all away, an’ it’s a shame so it is.”

“I was wondering if there was a canoe we could hire around here.”

“Thar is not, but it’s meself as has one thot ye’re welcome to.”

“That’s very kind—” Bob began but the old man interrupted.

“Tut, tut me bye, it’s welcome I said ye was.”

After a few minutes during which the old man told much the same story concerning the camp as the forester had related, with the exception that he made it plain that he did not believe in ghosts, he led the way down around the end of the dam to a small boat house.

“Thar ye be,” he said as he threw open the door. “An’ it’s a good one.”

“We’ll be very careful of it and bring it back this afternoon,” Bob assured him.

“Not a bit uv it. Iny time widin a week’ll do. I don’t use it once in a dog’s age.”

“Would you mind if we leave our wheels here in the boat house?” Bob asked.

“Niver a bit.”

“There’s a genuine gentleman for you,” Bob declared a little later as they were paddling up the lake.

“You said it,” Jack agreed.

There was only a light wind blowing and the canoe moved rapidly through the water as they dug deep with the paddles, anxious to reach the camp where they hoped excitement awaited them.

“If we get time while we’re up here we must climb Katahdin,” Bob said after they had gone a couple of miles.

“We’ll do that thing,” Jack agreed.

Chesuncook Lake is about twenty miles long and for the most part narrow, the distance across being not more than two miles in the widest place, so they were never very far from land. The shore is heavily wooded, the giant spruces growing almost to the water’s edge except where huge rocks gave their roots no chance. It is a wild country, the camp to which they were going, being the only one within many miles.

“I’ll say this looks like a good haunting ground for ghosts,” Jack laughed as he rested for the moment.

“And a place where they’re apt to be pretty hard to find,” Bob added.

“I reckon that must be the camp,” Bob cried a little later, pointing with his paddle.

“Must be since it’s the only one on the lake,” Jack agreed as he swung the canoe toward the shore.

It was a place of surpassing beauty. The large central building, built of unpeeled logs, occupied the highest point of a large knoll which was surrounded by trees so large that their branches almost met over the roof. Nestled among the pines and spruces but a short distance away were the small log cabins containing the sleeping quarters and sitting-rooms.

“The place seems deserted,” Bob declared as the canoe slowly approached the shore where a small wharf reached out a few feet into the lake.

“Well, you didn’t expect a crowd to meet us after what we’ve been told, did you?”

“No, but somehow it doesn’t seem natural not to see a soul about.”

The canoe touched the wharf and the boys sprang out, and dragged the craft from the water.

The light breeze had failed entirely and not a sound broke the vast silence as they stood looking up at the large cabin.

“Well, let’s not stand here and moon,” Jack said after several minutes had passed.

They walked slowly up the narrow path which led from the wharf to the central house about a hundred yards distant.

“Be careful that you don’t let slip something that might give us away,” Bob cautioned as they approached the house.

“Mum’s the word. But do you suppose there’s anybody here?”

“That man Jacques must be somewhere about, I should suppose.”

They were about to step onto the porch when the door suddenly opened and a man came out. He was a large man, one of the largest the boys had ever seen standing all of six feet four and built in proportion. That he was powerful was plainly to be seen. His face was dark and a scowl which seemed permanent gave to it a most unpleasant cast. He was dressed in corduroy trousers and a dark blue shirt open at the neck revealing a hairy chest. On his feet were a pair of Indian moccasins.

“We are looking for Jacques Bolduc,” Bob announced.

A deep rumble, which seemed to start away down in the man’s throat, ended with the words:

“Me heem.”

“Then—then you have charge of the camp?” Bob asked almost too surprised to speak.

“Oui. Me boss here.”

The two boys looked at each other before Bob spoke again. Each was wondering why Mr. Stokes had not told them more about the sort of man they would find in Jacques Bolduc.

“Can we get board here for awhile?” Bob asked.

“Oui. Dis camp she open for business.”

“You don’t seem to have many guests,” Jack declared before Bob could nudge him.

“Non. No guests now.”

The man’s face was a study as he spoke the words. Whether anger or sorrow caused the expression Bob was unable to determine.

“How long you stay?”

“Why, er I hardly know. Maybe a few days, maybe a few weeks. Is the fishing good?”

Instantly the man’s face lighted up although the scowl did not entirely disappear.

“Oui, she be bon. Come back an’ me show you.”

They followed him around to the back of the house and into a small shed like structure which evidently served as the kitchen. He pointed to a table in the middle of the room and they saw three of the largest trout they had ever seen.

“They’re sure beauties,” Jack declared, lifting the largest up by the gills. “This fellow must weigh all of twelve pounds.”

“Heem fourteen pounds.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Me catch um dees morning.”

“Can we have some for dinner?” Bob asked.

“Oui. Me cook um. No geet cook now. Heem geet scared, run off. Me have do all work.”

“That’s too bad,” Bob assured him. “But you won’t find us hard to suit so long as the fishing is good.”

“Me bon cook.” There was no hint of braggadocia in the man’s voice. He was simply stating what, the boys were soon to learn, was a fact.

“Come an’ me show you whar you sleep.”

He led the way down a path to the right of the house and threw open the door of a small cabin built under the spreading branches of a giant spruce.

“Dees suit, oui?”

“Fine.” Both boys spoke the word at the same time.

“Bon. Me go geet dinner. Blow horn when she ready.”

He left them and they looked about the rooms, two in number.

“They’re good and clean,” Jack declared passing into the tiny bedroom which held two single beds and nothing else.

However, the living-room was very comfortably furnished with three large easy chairs, a table and a sofa in one corner. A fire place of rough stones occupied nearly the whole of one end of the room while the other was taken up by a broad seat on which were lying a couple of bear skins.

“What do you think of our host?” Bob asked in a low voice as he sat down in one of the chairs.

“He’s not much for looks except for his size. Goodness knows he’s big enough.”

“He’s no dwarf for a fact. But his face?”

“Not exactly pleasantly featured. Still he must be all right or Mr. Stokes wouldn’t have praised him up so.”

“And we have that forester’s testimony to boot. Still it’s funny that neither of them said anything about his looks.”

They had brought their bags with them and for a time were busy getting settled although, as Jack laughingly declared, it wasn’t a very long job as they were travelling light.

It was just an hour later that they heard the welcome sound of the dinner horn.

“Be careful what you say,” Bob cautioned, as they started for the big cabin. “We want to find out what he knows about the business without having him suspect that we know anything about it. I’m not at all sure that he’s so innocent in spite of Mr. Stokes’ belief in him.”

“I wouldn’t trust him with a plugged nickle so far as his looks go,” Jack agreed.

“One thing’s sure,” Bob declared a little later as he reached for another helping of trout, “he told the truth when he said he could cook.”

Jacques, who at their invitation, had been eating with them, had gone to the kitchen for something and it was while he was absent that the boys found opportunity to exchange a few words.

“You’re right about that,” Jack agreed. “But you haven’t got very far in finding out what he knows about the funny business.”

“Well, I didn’t want to be in too much of a hurry. It might arouse his suspicion but I’ll say something pretty soon.”

Jacques returned just then bearing an immense apple pie.

“My, but that looks good enough to eat,” Bob laughed.

“If he can cook as good pie as he can fish we’ve got a treat ahead of us,” Jack declared as he passed his plate for a helping.

The breed seemed pleased at the words of praise and the scowl lightened, but did not entirely vanish.

“Business seems kind of quiet, doesn’t it?” Bob ventured as he passed his plate for a second piece of pie.

“Beesiness heem rotten,” Jacques scowled.

“Is it because your place is so far north?”

“Non. She no too far away.”

Bob was feeling his way carefully to avoid arousing the breed’s suspicion.

“Fishing been good all the time?”

“Oui.”

“You’ve got a fine place here.”

“Oui.”

By this time Bob was sure that the man was undecided whether or not to tell them of his trouble.

“I’m sure no one could find any fault with the board,” he encouraged him.

“No kick ’bout grub.”

“Then I don’t see—”

“It’s dat ghost,” Jacques interrupted suddenly. “Heem scare all people away.”

“What do you mean, ghost?” Jack asked.

“Dees camp, heem haunted.”

Both boys laughed and Bob said:

“But you don’t believe in ghosts?”

For a moment the man made no reply, but looked steadily at his plate.

“Me no used to,” he declared finally. “Now me no know. You no believe um, eh?”

“Not on your life,” Bob laughed.

“There ain’t no such animal,” Jack added.

Jacques shook his head sadly it seemed to the boys.

“Mebby you stay here some time you change mind, oui.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it,” Bob declared as the man got up and began to clear away the dishes.

It was evident that enough had been said on the subject for the present and they returned to their cabin after telling their host that they would try fishing later in the day.

“Well?”

“Well?”

“I spoke first,” Jack laughed.

“All right. I suppose you want to know what I think of him now.”

“You guessed it.”

“Well, I think he’s all right.”

“You mean you don’t think he’s in it?”

“Exactly.”

“But why? What did he say to change your opinion?”

“Nothing. But I never said I thought he was guilty.”

“But you did all the same. I mean you thought so.”

“I won’t deny that I did have a sneaking impression that way, but something in the way he spoke made me change my mind. Oh, I know he’s not very prepossessing so far as looks go but, son, there’s something in his face when he talks that tells me he’s honest. Of course, I may be wrong, but that’s the way things stand in my mind just now.”

“Well, I’m neutral,” Jack said after a moment’s thought. “But what shall we do now, take a walk or a nap? I’m not sleepy.”

“Nor I, so I vote for the walk.”

They were gone a little over two hours during which time they made a pretty thorough canvass of the immediate neighborhood.

“I’ve got one.”

Bob was rowing the flat bottomed boat and, as Jack spoke, he dropped the oars and picked up the landing net.

“Is it a big one?” he asked.

“He’s pulling pretty hard,” Jack replied, rapidly reeling in his line.

“It’s a salmon,” Bob shouted a moment later as the fish broke water a hundred feet away. “And it’s a big one too; you’ll have to play him.”

For three quarters of an hour the battle raged, the big fish being at times almost within reach of the landing net only to make a fresh dash for freedom which more than once ran out nearly all the line, despite the generous use of the drag, before Jack was able to check it. But at last the boy’s skill won and the big fish lay gasping on the bottom of the boat.

“Some fish.”

“And some fighter,” Jack added. “What’ll he weigh?”

“Fifteen pounds if an ounce.”

At the supper table that night Bob tried adroitly to draw the big half-breed out regarding the ghost but, for some reason best known to himself, he was loath to talk about it and the boy did not dare to press the matter too far. So they learned nothing more that was of any use to them.

“If he’s innocent why doesn’t he want to talk about it?” Jack demanded as they were getting ready for bed a couple of hours later.

“Ask me something easy,” Bob smiled. “I tell you he’s a deep one, if I’m any judge but, just the same, I don’t believe he’s guilty.”

“Maybe not, but it’s my bet that he’ll bear watching.”

Each boy had a flashlight and an automatic beneath his pillow that night when he crawled into bed.

“Now let ’em come,” Bob whispered in a sepulchral tone as he blew out the light.

But nothing happened and they were somewhat chagrined when, after a dreamless sleep, they awoke to find the sun two hours high.

“Guess the ghost must be taking a vacation,” Jack laughed as he threw a pillow at his brother.

“And you’ll be taking one in a hospital if you don’t behave yourself,” Bob growled hurling the pillow back.

As soon as breakfast was over they started down the lake, in one of the canoes belonging to the camp, towing the borrowed one after him. It was a beautiful morning with the slightest hint of coolness in the clear spruce laden air and they had not gone a mile before Jack proposed that he get into the other canoe and that they have a race for the dam.

“How much handicap do you want?” Bob asked.

“Not a foot.”

“But—”

“No buts about it. I’ll beat you even.”

But Jack knew that he was talking, as Bob would say, “through his hat,” but he would accept no favors.

“Dig in and do your best,” he shouted a while later after they had covered about half the distance. “There’s no friendship in this race.”

“All right, if you feel that way about it,” Bob laughed and almost immediately he began to forge ahead.

Jack exerted himself to the utmost but, although he was fully as skillful as his brother in the use of the paddle he lacked considerable when it came to a matter of strength. So he was not disappointed when Bob reached the dam nearly a quarter of a mile ahead. As he came out on the dam he found Bob talking with a man about forty years old.

“Mr. Sleeper this is my brother, Jack,” Bob introduced him as he came up.

“Mr. Sleeper was just telling me that he wants to go up to the camp,” he explained.

“Yes,” the man added. “You see I engaged board during the winter and I do not understand why there is no boat to meet us. The letter stated that a motor boat made regular trips to the dam.”

The two boys looked at each other uncertain what to say for fully a minute then Bob, realizing that the situation was becoming awkward, said:

“Well, you see, there are no boarders there now except us and I guess they have not been running the boat lately.”

“But I understood from the letter that the camp was filled all the time.”

“It isn’t now: in fact there’s no one at all there except my brother and I.”

“But why? I don’t understand it,” he insisted.

“Ghosts,” Bob said with a smile.

“Ghosts!”

“Yes, sir, ghosts. At least that’s the report, but we haven’t seen any.”

“And how long have you been there?”

“We only came yesterday.”

“How about the help?”

“They’ve all gone. In fact there’s no one there except the manager, a half-breed named Jacques Bolduc.”

“Can he cook?” There was much eagerness in the man’s voice as he asked the question.

“I’ll say he can,” Jack broke in.

“Then that’s fine. He’ll take us won’t he?”

“Why, I suppose so,” Bob replied.

“Then I’ll tell my wife. She and Helen went down to look at the gorge just below. She’ll be tickled to death.”

“Because Jacques can cook?” Bob asked somewhat puzzled.

“No, although that will help, of course, but it’s the ghost I had reference to. You see,” he explained as he noted the puzzled expression on the boy’s face, “my wife is er—well, I guess I might as well call it a spiritualist. Believes in ghosts and all that sort of thing, you know. Of course, it’s all bunk, but she’s got the bug all right.”

Just then a woman, accompanied by a girl about fifteen years old, appeared in the path just below the dam.

“There they are now,” the man cried. “Hurry up, Mary,” he called waving his hand. “I’ve got some wonderful news for you.”

Mr. Sleeper introduced the boys as soon as his wife and daughter joined them and then proceeded to tell them about the haunted camp.

Mrs. Sleeper, a charming woman some years younger than her husband, clapped her hands with delight.

“Isn’t that lovely?” she said turning to Bob. “Have you seen them?”

“No, mam, not yet,” he replied. “But we only came yesterday.”

“Maybe you’re not sympathetic,” she ventured.

“I don’t know about that, I’m sure,” Bob smiled.

“But how are we to get up there? How far is it?” Mr. Sleeper asked.

“It’s about five miles up the lake,” Bob told him. “We’ve got a good canoe that will easily carry us all and we’ll be glad to take you up if you’re not afraid to trust yourselves to us.”

“Not a bit of it, we can all swim,” Mrs. Sleeper assured him.

“Then if you’ll excuse us while we put a canoe we borrowed yesterday in the boat-house we’ll be all ready.”

They did not see the keeper of the dam until they had the canoe stowed away in its place. Then he joined them entering the house at a back door.

“Well, well, an’ the ghosts ain’t got ye yit?”

“Not yet,” Bob laughed.

“Did ye seen ’em?”

“Narry a ghost so far.”

After a few minutes’ talk with the old man they thanked him for the loan of the canoe and hastened back to their new friends.

“We’ll have to come back later for your baggage,” Bob told them as he glanced at the trunk and bags which were piled at one end of the dam.

“But—”

“Oh, it won’t be a bit of trouble. There’s a good motor boat at the camp and we’ll come down in that. Perhaps you’d rather wait here while we go back and get it.”

“No, no,” Mrs. Sleeper declared. “I just love a canoe and I’m not a bit afraid.”

The five made a good load for the canoe and the boys kept as close to the shore as possible fearing their passengers might become frightened as a fairly stiff breeze was blowing. But they showed no signs of fear and appeared to be enjoying the trip. Mrs. Sleeper talked almost continually about the ghost and Bob told her all he knew omitting only the object of their mission.

Jacques was on the wharf as they rounded the point of land just below, and the boys could see from the expression on his face that he was not at all pleased as he caught sight of their passengers.

“My, what a cross looking man,” Helen whispered to her mother, but loudly enough for Bob to hear.

“He’s no beauty, that’s a fact, but he’s all right,” he assured her.

The breed received them kindly, but shook his head when Bob told him that they wished to stay at the camp.

“Me sorry but—”

“Oh, we’re not a bit afraid of ghosts,” Mrs. Sleeper assured him. “And we’ll try not to be too much trouble. Please let us stay.”

Her kindly smile won the man completely and after explaining that he had no help and that they would have to put up with what he could do himself, he made no further objection and the Sleepers were soon domiciled in the cabin next to the one the boys occupied.

“We’ll run down and get your luggage right away,” Bob said.

“Can I go?” Helen asked.

“Sure, if your mother is willing,” Bob told her.

“You’re sure she won’t be in the way?” Mrs. Sleeper asked.

“Not a bit. We can all go if you like.”

But Mr. and Mrs. Sleeper decided they would stay at the camp and rest.

“You want to look out that you don’t fall in love,” Jack grinned as they were pushing the motor boat out from the boat-house.

“No danger,” Bob smiled. “But she is a beauty, isn’t she?”

“You said something, but what do you think of her folks?”

“They seem all right. Her mother is one fine lady if I’m any judge and her father is all to the mutton.”

“But I’ll bet she’ll yell if the ghost shows up.”

“Maybe.”

Helen was waiting on the wharf as they pushed the boat up and sprang in before they had time to help her.

“Isn’t this a dandy boat?” she cried.

The Loon was a twenty-foot boat equipped with a two cylinder Buffalo engine and Jacques had assured them that she would make fifteen miles an hour.

“All right. Turn her over,” Jack shouted as he pushed off from the wharf.

The engine caught at the first turn and in another moment they were speeding down the lake.

“This beats paddling,” Jack declared as he leaned back against the leather cushion.

“But I love to paddle,” Helen told him with a bright smile.

“Do you love ghosts too?” Jack asked.

“I—I don’t know. You see I never saw one, did you?”

“No, I never did.”

“But don’t you believe there are ghosts?”

“No, do you?”

“Well, I don’t know for sure. You see mamma says there are and daddy is just as certain that there aren’t, so I’m kind-of on the fence.”

“Ready to jump either way,” Bob laughed.

“I guess so,” she smiled.

“Hope I’ll be there to catch you when you do,” Jack said and they all laughed.

“Does that man at the camp, Jacques, I think you called him, believe in them?”

“I’m not quite sure about that,” Bob told her. “He says that he does not, but most all of the French and half-breeds around here do. Of course he may be an exception. You see he’s really quite an intelligent fellow even if he is a breed.”

They found the luggage where it had been left and, quickly getting it aboard, they made a speedy run up the lake getting back to the camp just as Jacques was blowing the dinner horn.

“That’s some engine,” Jack declared as he passed the trunk up to Bob. “Didn’t miss a stroke all the way.”

Three days passed and, much to the disgust of the boys, nothing happened that even remotely suggested ghosts. Mrs. Sleeper was plainly disappointed, but her husband took it as a matter of course, giving it as his opinion that the whole thing had probably been nothing more than a boyish prank. But the time had by no means hung heavily on their hands. Despite her years they found the girl, Helen, as Jack declared, a regular sport. She fished with them and they were amazed at her skill with the fly rod. She swam with them and Jack, who was rightly proud of his attainments in the water, had to exert himself to the utmost to keep ahead of her in the many races which they had.

“She ought to have been a boy,” he confided to Bob one day as he watched her slender form enter the water, making hardly a ripple, as she dove from the top of a precipitous rock nearly twelve feet above the lake.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Bob replied. “She’s pretty nice just as she is.”

“Ahem.”

“Nothing like that,” Bob laughed. “But you’ll agree that she is all to the good.”

“And then some,” Jack nodded his head.

It was the fourth night of their stay at the camp when Bob awoke suddenly. It was an unusual thing for him to wake up in the night unless disturbed so the first thought to enter his mind was that something had happened. He lay perfectly still and listened, but no sound save Jack’s deep breathing came to his ears. He raised his head slightly and looked about the room, but the darkness was so intense that he could see nothing. He was about to turn over and go to sleep again concluding that everything was all right, when his eye caught a bright spot on the wall of the room opposite his bed and just above that of his brother. It was a very bright spot not more than an inch in diameter. For some minutes he watched it half fascinated. Then it began slowly to move upward. Up, up it went so slowly that at first he was uncertain as to whether it was really moving at all. It ascended until it had reached a point not more than a foot or two from the ceiling and there it paused for several minutes. Then as slowly it began to move to the right but only for a short distance before it began to descend. Down it came until it was at the level from which it started, and then, after a short pause, it moved to the left until it came to rest in the same place where it had first appeared.

Bob was not frightened, but a peculiar sensation, which he was unable to analyze, took possession of him as he watched the spot. It did not move again but continued to glow for some minutes and then began, imperceptibly at first and then more rapidly to fade. Just as it disappeared entirely he thought he heard what sounded like a mocking laugh away off in the deep woods. But it was so faint that he was not sure that he had really heard it at all.

For a long time he watched the wall but the spot did not return and finally he fell off to sleep. The sun was up some distance when he awoke again and Jack was nearly dressed. At first he thought he would not tell anyone of his experience, but on second thought he concluded that it would be hardly fair to Jack, so he decided to tell him.

“Jack,” he said as he pulled on his clothes, “I’m not sure but I rather think I saw that ghost last night.”

“What!”

“Don’t get excited. I merely said that I think I saw the ghost.”

“Where was it?”

“Why, in the room here of course.”

“And you let it get away?”

“Well, it didn’t hardly seem a thing you could catch, you know.”

“How do I know? What did it look like?”

“It was just a spot of light on the wall.”

“Huh.” It was evident that Jack was disappointed not to say disgusted. “What kind of a ghost do you call that?”

“I don’t know I’m sure,” Bob smiled.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“To tell the truth I never thought of it.”

“Well, what did it do?”

Bob explained its movements.

“Sure you didn’t dream it?” Jack demanded.

“To be perfectly honest, no, but I thought I was awake.”

“Pinch yourself?”

“No. You see it was so strange that I didn’t seem to think of anything.” Then, as Jack said nothing, he told him about the laugh he thought he had heard.

“Seems kind of fishy to me,” Jack declared after a moment’s thought.

“Same here,” Bob agreed. “Perhaps I dreamed the whole thing. It wouldn’t be at all strange if I did.” But deep down in his heart he was quite certain that it had not been a dream.

“Will you tell the Sleepers about it?” Jack asked.

“What do you think?”

“Well, seeing that you’re not sure about it I’d let it go and say nothing. If it wasn’t a dream it’ll come again and then will be time enough.”

“I reckon that will be best.”

Despite his lack of help, Jacques was making them all very comfortable.

The camp was well stocked with provisions and the meals were excellent. Mr. Sleeper spent a good part of his time writing on a book which, he told the boys, was to be a text book on Chemistry, while his wife, when she was not reading, was roaming about in the woods although she never went far from the camp. Almost every evening after supper they all went for a sail about the lake in the Loon. It would usually be dark before they returned to the camp, but, as the boat was equipped with a good headlight, they did not mind it.

“It seems like a good night for ghosts,” Mr. Sleeper said as they were returning from their sail the night after Bob’s experience.

“Why do you say that, George?” Mrs. Sleeper asked quickly. She was never quite sure as to whether or not her husband was serious.

“Oh, it seems so still like,” he laughed.

That night Bob again awoke. Wide awake in an instant he glanced toward the wall opposite, but there was no spot of light there. Remembering that the spot had not appeared the night before until he had been awake for some time he waited. Slowly the minutes passed until he judged that he had been awake fully a quarter of an hour before it appeared. Remembering that he had promised to call Jack in case the spot came, he whispered loudly.

“Jack.”

Jack was a heavy sleeper and he had to call several times before he succeeded in arousing him.

“What’s the matter?”

“You wanted to see the ghost. Look on the wall over your bed,” Bob whispered.

He could hear the bed creak as Jack raised himself.

“Well, what do you know about that?”

“Sure you aren’t dreaming?” Bob asked.

“Just a minute till I pinch myself. No, I felt it all right,” Jack declared.

“Now watch it.”

The spot had begun to move as on the previous night and took the same path. Neither spoke or moved until it had made the journey and returned to its first position. Then Bob heard Jack getting out of bed.

“What you going to do?” he asked.

Jack made no reply but a second later he had pulled down the shade on the window on the side of the room at the foot of Bob’s bed. Instantly the spot disappeared.

“Guess that proves that it comes from outside,” Jack chuckled as he sat down on the foot of Bob’s bed.

“Good boy. I never thought of that,” Bob declared.

“Well, haven’t I always told you that I used my head for something else than a hat rack?” Jack asked.

“I never disputed it. But suppose you raise the shade again and see if it’s still there.”

Jack quickly did as his brother suggested but the spot did not reappear.

“Now listen,” Bob ordered.

Two or three minutes passed then, seemingly from a great distance, came that same weird laugh.

“Did you hear it?” Bob asked.

“Sure did.”

“Then I didn’t dream it.”

“Not this time anyhow,” Jack assured him.

“Well, I never heard of a ghost that could be stopped by anything so thin as a window curtain so that makes it certain that it’s due to some human agency. Not that I ever thought otherwise,” he hastened to add, “but it’s kind of comforting to have positive evidence.”

“You bet,” Jack agreed.

They talked for some time longer, but as the spot did not again appear, Bob finally said:

“Well I reckon the show’s over for tonight so we might as well go to sleep again.”

“Guess that curtain kind of fazed his ghostship,” Jack chuckled as he groped his way back to his bed.

But he came back before reaching it to say:

“How about getting up early and reconnoitering a bit?”

“Good idea. What time is it?”

“Half past one,” Jack replied glancing at the luminous face of his wrist watch.

“All right, I’ll call you about four and we’ll scout around.”

Bob possessed the faculty of being able to awake at any time fixed in his mind on going to sleep so he had no fear of oversleeping and in a few minutes they were both once more in the land of nod.

The eastern sky was just beginning to redden when he shook his brother.

“Come on if you’re going ghost hunting with me,” he said.

“Be with you in the shake of a dog’s tail,” Jack replied as he sprang from his bed.

“Which way’ll we go?” Jack asked as soon as they were out of doors.

“Which way did you think that laugh came from?”

“It seemed to be from up the lake.”

“Same here. Suppose we go that way.”

“Suits me.”

“And we want to be careful not to overlook anything,” Bob cautioned.

“You bet. Say, Bob, we ought to have Kernertok and his dog, Sicum, here. I’ll bet he’d track ’em or it down.”

It was still dark in the thick woods, but the light was increasing every minute and, as soon as they were well away from the camp, Bob proposed that they sit down and wait a little until it got lighter.

“We might miss something in the dark,” he said.

“Probably you mean, that is, if there’s anything to miss,” Jack agreed.

In half an hour Bob declared that it was light enough and they started off through the thick forest paralleling the shore of the lake. They went very slowly searching every foot of the way for some sign that would serve as a clue: a fresh foot print, a newly broken twig or some other indication of the recent passing of human beings.

“It’s been so dry lately that I’m afraid foot prints wouldn’t show anyway,” Bob declared after they had gone about a hundred rods and had found nothing.

“If we only had a nose like a dog’s now we might be able to do something,” Jack added.

A few minutes later Bob stooped and picked something from the ground with an exclamation of satisfaction.

“What is it?” Jack, who at the moment was a few feet behind him, asked.

Bob held out his hand and in it was the stump of a cigarette about an inch long.

“Huh, is that all?”

“But it means that someone has been here.”

“Sure, but how long ago?”

“Since the last rain. You can see that it has never been wet because the paper would have turned brown if it had and there’s not the least trace of it except at the end where it was in someone’s mouth.”

“I reckon you’re right there, Sherlock,” Jack admitted.

“And Mr. Sleeper doesn’t smoke and Jacques always smokes a pipe. At least I never saw him smoke a cigarette.”

For the better part of an hour they searched the ground all around the place but in vain. No other trace could they find.

“It beats me,” Jack declared finally. “I thought we knew something about woodcraft and all that sort of thing, but the fellow who dropped that stub has us skinned a mile.”

“Unless he dropped it from an air ship,” Bob suggested.

“Are you serious?”

“Hardly. Still I suppose it might have happened that way.”

“Well, let’s go on. We don’t need to be back for a couple of hours.”

After they had covered perhaps a mile more with no results, Bob suggested that they cut over to the lake and follow the shore back.

“We might find where a boat was pulled up,” he said.

For the greater part of the way the trees grew close to the water’s edge and they found it very hard going, but they were used to pushing their way through places where it seemed almost impossible to pass.

“One thing’s sure,” Jack panted as he climbed over a fallen tree, “No one could have landed along here and got through this stuff without leaving some marks.”

They were about half way back when they came to a place where there was a bit of beach. It was rocky but between the rocks were patches of sand and Bob’s quick eye caught sight of a foot print imbedded deeply in the soft sand.

“Here’s something,” he cried as he stooped over to examine the mark.

For some minutes he gazed at the print while Jack was eagerly hunting for others. But in this he was unsuccessful. That one was the only foot print on that part of the shore.

“Looks as though he had tried to step only on the stones and had made a single misstep,” he said as he came back to where Bob was still kneeling.

“That would be easy,” Bob agreed as he straightened up.

“Well, what do you make of it, Sherlock? How tall was he and what was the color of his hair?” Jack grinned.

“You ought to know that it takes at least two foot prints to judge a man’s height by and we’ve only one, but look at it yourself and see if it tells you anything.”

“Hum, ’bout a number eight and it wasn’t a moccasin. That’s about the limit of my deductions,” Jack declared a moment later.

“You hit all except the important points,” Bob smiled.

“Such as what?”

“Well, in the first place, that print was made by a heavy man and—”

“I might have mentioned that except that I thought it was too obvious,” Jack interrupted.

“And again it was made by a man from the city.”

“Not necessarily. He might have found those pointed toed shoes or they might have been given to him or—”

“Deductions are seldom absolute,” Bob broke in. “I’m only stating what is probable and you never saw a native with a pair of shoes, that would make that mark, on his feet.”

“My error. Pray proceed.” Jack humbly apologized.

“And most significant of all that print was made within the last twelve hours.”

“How do you know that?”

“It’s easy. As you see it is not more than a foot from the water and if you’ll remember there was a strong wind blowing this way just before sundown yesterday.”

“And there must have been surf enough to have washed the print out if it had been there then,” Jack finished.

“Exactly.”

“But I don’t see how he got away from here without leaving a trail.”

“Neither do I and that fact rather downs my theory that he was a city man,” Bob acknowledged.

For another half hour they searched the surrounding neighborhood but without any result and finally started back arriving at the camp just as Jacques blew the rising horn.

“What’s next?” Jack asked when they were back in their cabin.

“Seems to me our best bet is to be outside tonight.”

“My idea exactly.”

For the first time since they had been there the day passed slowly to the boys anxious as they were for the night to come. They had decided not to tell the Sleepers what they had seen deeming it best to keep it to themselves for the present at least.

That night was very dark as there was no moon and the stars were obscured by thick clouds so they were unable to see more than three or four feet ahead of themselves as they stole softly out of the cabin shortly after eleven o’clock. The window at the foot of Bob’s bed faced the north and it was in that direction they turned their steps. The forest began not more than forty feet from the cabin so they had but a short distance to go.

“He or they must have been about here,” Bob whispered as they paused beneath a large spruce.

“Couldn’t have been much further back,” Jack agreed.

“Then suppose you take this tree and I’ll get one a bit over this way.”

“Righto.”

Jack quickly swung himself into the lower branches of the tree while Bob moved off to the right. About ten feet above the ground he found a convenient crotch and proceeded to make himself as comfortable as circumstances would permit. How still it was. No breeze stirred the branches and save for an occasional croak of a frog no sound broke the silence. An hour passed and Jack was finding it difficult to keep awake. He wondered how Bob was making out in his perch a few yards away, and if he was as sleepy as he was.

He had just glanced at his watch and noted that it was a quarter past twelve when a shrill cry rang through the forest. It was a cry of fear or pain, he was not sure which and, for a moment he waited uncertain what to do. Then he heard Bob’s voice from beneath the branch.

“What was that cry?”

“Just what I was going to ask you.”

“Did you think it came from the Sleepers’ cabin?”

“Shouldn’t say so. It sounded farther off than that.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Then I reckon we’d better go see,” Jack said as he dropped lightly to the ground.

They made their way as rapidly as possible toward the cabin, not daring to make use of their flash lights, and had nearly reached it when a voice ordered:

“That’s near enough.”

At the same instant a beam of light sprang from the porch.

“That you Mr. Sleeper?” Bob asked in a low tone.

“Is that you, Bob?” The man asked instead of replying to his question.

“It’s me all right,” Bob said as he stepped forward.

Mr. Sleeper had a rain coat over his pajamas and in his hand was a revolver which he slipped into the pocket of the coat as the boys came up on the porch.

“Did you hear that yell a few minutes ago?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, we heard it and wasn’t sure but what it came from your cabin. That’s why we came to see,” Bob told him.

“You got dressed mighty quick.”

“Because we were not undressed,” Bob explained.

“Been roosting out in the trees,” Jack added.

“Roosting in trees! I don’t quite understand.”

“I’ll tell you all about it,” Bob said and explained what had happened.

“This bids fair to be quite an interesting problem,” Mr. Sleeper declared as soon as he had finished. “That yell didn’t come from this cabin, but it wasn’t a great way off. Haven’t I read that a wild cat makes a cry like that?”

“That was no cat,” Jack assured him. “It’s a fact that they do sound something like it, but there’s a difference.”

“You have heard them?”

“Lots of times. If you’d ever heard one you could tell the difference.”

“Then you think it was a man?”

“Either a man or a woman. No four-legged animal around here makes a noise like that.”

Just then the door of the cabin opened and a voice asked:

“Did you catch it, daddy?”

“Not yet, kitten.”

“Well, please take this.”

In the dim light the boys saw her hand her father a small object and the next moment he burst into laughter.

“That kid’ll never learn to be serious I’m afraid,” he said as he held the thing out for the boys to see.

It was a small salt shaker.

“Thought you’d better put some on its tail,” Jack laughed.

“It’s the only way he’d ever catch anything except a cold,” the girl chuckled loudly enough for them all to hear.

“I’ll catch you if you don’t get back to bed,” Mr. Sleeper tried to make his voice stern as he started toward the door but it slammed almost in his face and he laughingly turned back.

“She carries too many guns for me,” he sighed.

Suddenly Jack grasped Bob by the arm. “Look over there toward Katahdin,” he ordered.

As Bob turned his eye quickly caught what had caused Jack’s exclamation. Far away, seemingly nearly a mile high in the heavens, a light was flashing. It would appear and disappear a few times in rapid succession and then would go out for a time only to begin again a moment later.

“It’s a signal of some sort,” Bob declared, “and unless I’m mistaken its Morse. Hold your flash here quick.”

Searching his pockets he quickly found a pencil and a scrap of paper and began writing down the letters as the strange light spelled them out.

L-F-P-A-S-T-E-L-E-V-E-N-T-O-M-O-R-R-O-W

Then the light stopped and although they waited for some time it did not reappear.

“You got ’em just in the nick of time,” Jack declared as Bob passed the paper to him. “That first word’s half, of course.”

“And the fellow who was signaling must have been on the very top of Katahdin,” Bob asserted.

“Have you any idea what it means?” Mr. Sleeper asked.

“Only that something’s due to happen at eleven thirty tomorrow night.”

“Why not at eleven thirty in the forenoon?” Jack asked.

“It’s possible, of course, but it’s more likely to be at night,” Bob insisted.

They talked a while longer and then, as nothing more happened, the boys returned to their own cabin.

“Suppose we go up in the morning,” Bob said as they were undressing.

“Up where?”

“Up Katahdin, of course.”

“Just the ticket. We may find out something and we’ll have the trip anyway.”

As soon as breakfast was over they asked Jacques to put them up a lunch telling him that they were going to climb Katahdin. Was it fancy or did Bob detect a strange hint of fear in the half-breed’s eyes as he told him their destination? He was not sure for his expression changed almost instantly and a smile of assent took its place.

“She ver’ hard climb,” he warned them.

“I reckon,” Bob agreed.

“Mebby you wait go some other day. Look lak rain today.”

Bob was not sure but fancied there was a note of eagerness in the man’s voice.

“Oh, well, we can’t any more than get wet,” he declared and the man offered no more objection.

“It’s a good thing we brought those pocket radios with us,” Bob said when they were back in the cabin.

“Why, what you going to do with them?”

“We’ll leave one with Mr. Sleeper and take the other with us.”

“Good idea.”

The radios mentioned were a recent invention which they had worked and were very compact, a small selenium plate taking the place of the ordinary aerial.

Mr. Sleeper displayed great interest when they showed him the outfit and explained how it worked.

“Sure I’ll keep one and if you get into any trouble just let me know,” he said as soon as they had told him their plans. “I’d like to go with you but I’m afraid I couldn’t stand it. I’m not much of a walker. Broke my leg a few years ago and it never was set right. Gives out if I attempt to walk very far.”

“But my legs are all right and I want to go.”

“I was afraid you were listening behind that door.”

“But I can go?” Helen asked eagerly.

“Not this time, kitten. This is no trip for a girl.”

“We’ll take you up there before the summer’s over,” Bob promised.

“Did you notice anything peculiar about Jacques when I told him where we’re going?” Bob asked as he pushed the canoe off and dug his paddle deep in the water.

“No, why?”

“I just wondered.”

“But did you?”

“Well, I hardly know. Perhaps I just imagined it but it seemed to me that he wasn’t very anxious for us to go.”

“But what earthly reason could he have?”

“Haven’t an idea unless he’s mixed up in this mess in some way.”

“But you don’t think—”

“No I don’t think he is but you never can tell, you know,” Bob interrupted.

It was shortly after eight o’clock when they reached the dam.

“Have ye seed thot ghost yit?” the keeper asked them as they drew the canoe from the water.

“Not yet,” Bob smiled.

“Where you goin’?”

“Going to climb Katahdin,” Jack told him.

“Thot’s a pretty stiff climb so it is but it’s meself as guesses ye’re good fer it. But by the way, ye’d better kape yer eyes open ’cause that’s someone up thar.”

“What do you mean?” Bob asked.

“Faith an’ I mane whot I say. I seen a light up thar most ivery night fer a wake or more.”

“What kind of a light?”

“I dunno, but it was a flashing light, like as if somebody was makin’ a signal.”

“Well, we’ll be on the look-out,” Bob promised as they started down the gorge.

The foot of the mountain was seven miles from the dam and the going very rough especially through the gorge where they were obliged to leap from one big rock to another as they followed the bed of the stream.

“Good thing Mr. Sleeper didn’t come if he’s got a game leg,” Jack panted as they stopped to rest a moment.

“Reckon he’d have found it pretty rough sledding.”

They soon started on again and about eleven o’clock reached the foot of Katahdin where they again stopped to rest.

“It’s going to be some climb on a hot day,” Jack declared wiping his forehead.

“We’ll take it easy, there’s lots of time.”

“What are you doing here?”

Both boys started violently at the sound of a strange voice. A few feet away, leaning against a big pine, stood a man only a few years older than Bob. He was dressed in a rough tweed knicker suit with a cap to match. His face, although pleasant enough, bore plainly the signs of dissipation; the eyes slightly bloodshot and puffed lids as well as the red nose evidenced the life he had led.

“I beg your pardon,” Bob said politely, “but were you speaking to us?”

“Who did you suppose I was speaking to?” the man demanded angrily.

“Well really, I supposed you were talking to us only I wanted to make sure, you know,” drawled Bob.

The man’s arrogant tone had maddened him and he put into his voice all the contempt possible.

“Don’t you get fresh.” The man took a step forward and Bob got up from the log on which he had been sitting. “I want to know what you are doing here.”

“What we are doing here,” Bob repeated slowly. “Well now that’s funny.”

“What’s funny about it?”

“Oh, just a thought I had. It really doesn’t matter, you know.”

Jack was having all he could do to keep from laughing as he heard his brother fencing with the stranger. He could see that the latter was rapidly losing control of his temper and knew that that was just what Bob was after.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“Why sure, we’re just sitting here, that’s all. What are you doing?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“No?”

“Certainly not.”

“And might I ask you why it’s any more your business what we’re doing?”

“Because I choose to make it.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll ‘Oh’ you,” the man snapped taking a step forward with clinched fists.

But he evidently thought better of his intention when he saw that Bob also took a step to meet him and that his fists were also clinched.

“Are you going up the mountain?” he demanded, falling back to his former position.

“Maybe.”

“Well, you’d better not.”

“If not why not?” Bob tantalized.

“Because I say so.”

“And you think that’s a good reason?”

“You’ll find out if you try it.”

“Thanks, I only was asking for information. Come on Jack, we might as well be on our way.”

As they turned to go Bob glanced back in time to see the man reach his hand back to his hip pocket but he evidently thought better of it for he drew the hand away empty.

“Nice pleasant fellow,” Jack said as soon as they were out of hearing.

“Very. Did you see his shoes?”

“Can’t say I noticed them, why?”

“Nothing only they looked as though they might have made that track in the sand we found yesterday.”

“But what do you suppose he’s doing away off here?”

“Ask me something easy. But unless he was bluffing we’re likely to find out unless we keep our eyes open.”

If the going had been bad so far it was worse now. The mountain was heavily wooded nearly to the top and there was a good deal of underbrush through which at times they had to literally push their way. Then, in places, it was very steep and they were obliged to pull themselves up by grabbing hold of branches. They had pushed on in this way for a half hour when Bob, who was slightly in the lead, stopped and held up his hand.

“Listen,” he whispered.

“I don’t hear anything,” Jack said after a moment’s pause.

“Perhaps I was mistaken but I was sure I heard a bush crack off there to the right.”

“A deer maybe,” Jack ventured.

“No, a deer wouldn’t have made just one crack like that. I’ve had the feeling ever since we left that fellow that we were being followed.”

“Think it’s he?”

“Maybe. You stay here a minute. I’ll be right back.”

Bob got onto his hands and knees and noiselessly disappeared in the thick brush. It was perhaps fifteen minutes before he returned as silent as he had gone.

“Guess I was mistaken,” he said. “I couldn’t find a trace of anyone.”

“Then I guess there was no one there.”

“Maybe not, but keep your eyes peeled. I have a hunch that there’s someone on our trail.”

“Mighty funny there’s no path up this mountain,” Jack puffed a few minutes later, as he paused to wipe the sweat from his face.

“There probably is only we haven’t struck it,” Bob smiled.

For another half hour they pushed on, now climbing over rocks and the next moment forcing their way through heavy underbrush. Suddenly Bob, who at the time was a few feet ahead, stopped and held up his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Jack whispered as he crept up to him.

“Peep out there,” Bob told him holding the low branch of a tree aside.

Through the opening Jack could see the front of a rough shanty only a few feet away.

“Did you see anyone?” he asked drawing back.

“No.”

“Then why all the caution?”

“Better to be careful than sorry,” Bob whispered.

“Well, shall we investigate or go around?”

“What do you think?”

“I say investigate.”

“Come on, then, but keep your eyes open.”

As they crept forward they saw that the building, evidently many years old and constructed of rough boards, was built so that its back was close against a cliff the top of which reached thirty or more feet above the roof. There was no sign of life about the place and, as they drew nearer, they saw that the door was open a few inches.

“Looks kind of spooky,” Jack whispered.

They were close to the door and Bob, after listening a moment, pushed it open and entered, closely followed by Jack. A hasty glance about told them that the place was empty so far as living beings were concerned. And the same statement was nearly true as regards other things. An old table so rickety that it seemed about ready to fall to the ground, and the remains of two or three chairs completed the inventory.

“Not much here,” Jack declared.

“Does look rather forlorn,” Bob agreed.

As he spoke his eye caught sight of a door at the back of the room.

“Wonder where this door goes to,” he said as he started across the room.

Unlike the rest of the building the door appeared to be of recent construction. The boards were thick and much newer than those of the shack proper and it was closed by a heavy bar across the middle.

“Take a look outside while I see if I can open it,” Bob said, as he placed his hand on the bar.

The bar fitted so snugly that it required some effort to remove it and Jack was back just as he succeeded in pulling it out.

“All quiet along the Potomac,” he announced.

The door dragged a bit on the bottom but they soon had it open. Stygian darkness greeted them as they looked in, but both had flash lights with them and in a moment were throwing the rays about. They were in what appeared to be a natural cave some thirty feet wide and twice as long as the roof being very irregular but averaging about ten feet from the ground. The place was entirely empty, so far as they could see.

“What do you know about it?” Jack asked.

“It would make a good prison,” Bob replied.

“I’ll say it would.”

“Looks as though there might be a passage in the back part there,” Bob said as he started for the back of the cave.

He had taken but a single step, however, when a startled exclamation from Jack caused him to wheel about. By the light of his torch he saw that his brother was struggling in the grasp of a man and as he sprang to his assistance he received a heavy blow on the side of his head which stretched him senseless on the floor.

When consciousness began slowly to drift back he was at first aware only of a severe headache. Slowly he opened his eyes but he might as well have kept them closed. It was so dark that he could see absolutely nothing. For a moment he wondered what it was all about, then memory came back with a rush and he whispered:

“Jack.”

There was no answer and he tried it again a little louder. This time he was relieved when his brother answered.

“Thank God, you’re alive, Bob. I was afraid they had killed you.”

“Where are you, Jack?”

“Over here, tied up.”

Then Bob realized that he too was tied. His hands were bound behind his back and his feet securely fastened together. A bit of straining at the bonds soon convinced him that whoever had done it had made a good job.

“Are you all right?” Jack asked anxiously.

“I guess so. Head’s a bit sore and it aches like fury, but I don’t think it’s broke. Can you roll over this way?”

“Guess so,” and a moment later Jack’s body bumped into him.

“What happened?” Bob asked.

“Can’t tell you much it was so sudden. I didn’t hear a thing, but a man grabbed me from behind and I tried to shout. Then I saw you go down and although I made things lively for a minute or two I was no match for the two of them and they soon had me trussed up.”

“Did you get a look at them?”

“Not enough to amount to anything. I wouldn’t know them from Adam but I don’t think I ever saw them before but I’m not sure. How’s your head?”

“Sore, but it feels a bit better.”

“Are you tied tight?”

“Sure am. How about you?”

“Got a little slack. I remembered your method and did the best I could.”

Bob was an expert in getting free from bonds. His hands were smaller than most boys when compared with the size of his wrists and long practice had enabled him to set his muscles in such a way that no matter how tightly they were bound together he could, on relaxing, get enough slack to free himself. But now, having been tied while he was unconscious, he was unable to obtain the least bit of slack.

“If only my hands weren’t so large,” Jack groaned as he strained at the rope. “I don’t suppose you can get a mite of slack.”

“Not a bit.”

“Then I reckon it’s up to me.”

Bob could hear him as he pulled and strained.

“Take it easy,” he cautioned. “It’s mighty easy to rub the skin off and that makes it harder.”

“I can almost do it but not quite,” Jack announced a few minutes later.

“Roll over here and let’s see if I can help any with my teeth.”

He found that Jack’s hands were tied with a piece of half-inch rope which seemed to be nearly new. At any rate it was so stiff that, although he worked until he could taste the blood from his gums, he could not make the slightest impression on it.

“I’m afraid it’s no use,” he said sadly.

“How about trying with your hands?”

“We’ll try it,” Bob agreed as he rolled over and hitched forward until he could touch the rope with his fingers.

“My hands are tied so tight that they’re numb,” he said after a few minutes of vain effort.

“Well, let me work at it again. I may do it in time.”

For a time the only sound to be heard was Jack’s grunting as he tugged at the rope. Bob hoped almost against hope that he might succeed and more than once he breathed a silent prayer.

“There, at last,” Jack grunted. “And I don’t believe I peeled off more than about a yard of skin.”

“You got it?”

“Sure have. Just a minute and I’ll tend to you.”

“But suppose they come back?”

“Gracious, I never thought of that. I suppose we’d better play it safe and wait a bit.”

“I think so, but I do wish you’d see if you can loosen up this rope a trifle. It hurts like the dickins.”

After he had worked at the rope on Bob’s wrists for a few minutes he managed to loosen it enough to give him considerable relief. “It’s no wonder you couldn’t get free,” he declared as he slipped his hand back into the loop and stretched out on the floor.

All the time Bob had been listening for a sound on the other side of the door but had heard nothing.

“Did they search us?” he asked a moment later.

“I’ll say they did. Took everything we had I guess.”

“Then they got the radio?”

“Yep.”

“That’s too bad. If they’d missed it we could have called Mr. Sleeper.”

“And if wishes were horses beggers could ride,” Jack quoted.

For some time they were silent then Bob said:

“Do you know, Jack, there’s something funny about this business.”

“That just occurred to you?” Jack asked.

“No, but I’m serious.”

“Serious? I hope to goodness you don’t think I’m fooling.”

“Well, what do you make of it?”

“Just what do you mean?”

“I mean is there any connection between the fellows who’ve got us tied up here and whoever is cutting up monkeydidoes at the camp?”

“My, but you do have a wonderful faculty for asking easy questions,” Jack declared after a moment’s pause.

“Well, of course—”

Bob started to speak but just then his ear caught a sound and he stopped.

“Someone’s at the door,” he whispered.

A moment later the door was swung open and someone stepped inside closing it behind him. For an instant a beam of light played about the cave until it rested on them, then the man came slowly toward them. When he was close to them he spoke and both recognized the voice as belonging to the young man they had met earlier in the day.

“Well, I warned you that you’d get into trouble if you kept on, and you see I was right.”

“That’s so,” Bob agreed.

“Your name’s Golden, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s your brother?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve heard of you.”

“Such is fame.”

“I suppose you’ve been wondering why we tied you up.”

“Naturally.”

“And you can’t guess?”

“Haven’t yet.”

“Well I’d save my breath if I were you.”

“Thanks, but it doesn’t take much breath to think,” Jack broke in.

“May I ask what you are going to do with us?” Bob inquired.

“Nothing, if you are reasonable.”

“And what do you call reasonable?”

“I mean if you’ll do as I say.”

“And what’s that?”

“Go straight home and stay away from this part of the woods and keep your mouths shut.”

“That’s some sweeping order,” Jack broke in.

“And suppose we don’t promise?” Bob asked.

“Then you stay right here, that’s all.”

“How long can we have to make up our minds?”

“Well, I’ve got to go up the mountain a piece and you may have till I get back, which will probably be in a half hour or so.”

“Thanks. We’ll have our answer ready by that time,” Bob assured him.

Before leaving the room the man examined their bonds and was apparently satisfied with their condition.

“I’ve heard that you couldn’t be tied so that you couldn’t get away,” he told Bob as he bent over him. “But I guess Skeets did the trick this time or else you haven’t tried.”

“Oh, I tried all right but he tied me while I was unconscious and that makes a lot of difference.”

“I reckon so. Well, talk it over and let me know what you decide when I get back. I really have nothing against you boys and have no desire to injure you, but I’ve got to look out for number one, you know, and just now it doesn’t suit me to have you around here.”

He went out and they could hear him as he slipped the bar in place.

“Wait five minutes and then free yourself,” Bob whispered.

At the end of the time they had heard no sound and Jack set to work and soon they were both free.

“How about those other two fellows?” Jack asked as he loosened the last knot about Bob’s ankles.

“That’s a chance we’ll have to take,” Bob replied. “I’m going on the assumption that they’ve gone off somewhere, but I may be wrong and if I am—well we’ve taken chances before.”

“Sure we have,” Jack agreed.

“It’s darker than the ace of spades,” Bob declared as they groped their way across the cave till they reached the side where the door was placed.

“We must jump him the instant he opens the door,” Bob explained. “He had a business like looking automatic in his hand when he came in and he’ll probably have it all ready this time.”

“Well, here’s hoping he won’t have a chance to use it.”

Slowly the time passed until they judged that he had been gone nearly an hour although they could only guess at the time as their watches had been taken away from them together with all their other possessions. But finally they heard someone enter the outer room and a moment later the bar was removed and the door pushed cautiously open. The man did not enter at once but threw the light from his flash into the cave. Knowing that he would at once discover their absence from the spot where he had left them, Bob did not wait but at once sprang for the opening. With a smothered cry the man tried to draw back but Bob was too quick for him and almost before he could make a move he had him around the neck and was bearing him down to the ground.

Bang!

The gun went off with a sound which nearly deafened them but the bullet fortunately did no damage and before he could again press the trigger Jack, had seized his wrist and with a violent twist sent the gun spinning several feet away. Feeling sure that Bob would be able to handle him now that he was disarmed, he quickly retrieved the gun and then turned to watch the combat ready to help if his brother was in need of it. But, as he had thought, Bob was having no trouble in handling the situation. He had the man flat on his back and one hand was on his throat. In fact the stranger had ceased to struggle.

“Might as well let him up now, Bob,” Jack told him. “I’ve got his gun.”

“Better see if he’s got another one first,” Bob suggested.

The man said nothing nor did he make any resistance as Jack searched him.

“All right, you can let him up now. He has no other weapon.”

They were just outside the door of the cave and it was fairly light in the room although there was but a single small window. As the man got to his feet he seemed perfectly composed, a fact which gave Bob a feeling of insecurity.

“We have decided not to give that promise,” he told him.

“So I judged,” the man smiled. “It would seem that, for the moment, the tables are turned, as they say, and I guess it’s my turn to ask what you are going to do with me.”

“I’m afraid we’ve hardly got that far in our plans. First would you mind telling us where you have put the things you took from us?”

“You’ll find them over in that corner,” nodding his head toward one of the corners farthest away from the cave.

“See if they’re all there, Jack.”

“All here including the lunch,” Jack announced a minute later.

“Good.” Then turning to the man he said: “I don’t suppose it will be any good asking you what you’re doing up here and why you tied us up.”

“I’m afraid not,” the man smiled.

“I thought not. Well ‘what’s sass for the goose’s sass for the gander.’ If you’ll get that rope we’ll give him a taste of his own medicine,” he said turning to Jack.

The man made not the slightest objection while they bound him securely. Rather he seemed inexpressibly bored with the proceeding.

“I don’t know how expert you are at getting a rope off,” Bob said as soon as they had finished, “But I rather think that will hold you for awhile.”

“If you are satisfied I guess I’ll have to be,” he smiled.

Grabbing him by the shoulders Bob dragged the man into the cave and then returned to the outer room closing the door behind him. After he had slipped the bar in place he turned to Jack.

“Well, what’s next?”

“Lunch,” Jack declared without hesitation.

“All right, but let’s make it snappy.”

“Is there any rush?”

“I think so. Didn’t you notice anything queer about that fellow?”

“Only that he didn’t seem much worried.”

“That’s it exactly. Why didn’t he?”

“You mean he expects those other fellows to show up soon?”

“Exactly.”

“I reckon you’re right.”

While they were talking they had been eating and they made a hasty meal of it.

“Now let’s beat it,” Jack proposed washing down the last mouthful with a drink of water from a small thermos bottle.

“I don’t quite like the idea of leaving him here,” Bob said slowly. “Suppose he was only bluffing and they don’t come. He might starve to death.”

“Well, how about taking him with us?”

“I hardly like to do that. Wouldn’t it be better to take the bar away and fix those ropes so that he can work them off after a bit?”

“All right.”

Bob removed the bar and threw open the door at the same time flashing the light onto the floor of the cave where he had left the man.

“Guess he’s been doing some rolling,” he said to Jack, who was just behind him, as he failed to see him.

“Well, he can’t be far,” Jack declared as he stepped into the cave ahead of Bob. “Well, what do you know about that?” he asked a moment later after the beam of light had searched the entire cave and had failed to disclose the man.

“He’s gone!” Bob gasped as he realized the fact.

“But it’s impossible.”

“I know, but it seems to be a fact nevertheless.”

A hurried search of the cave gave them not the slightest hint as to the manner in which the man had made his escape. The place, at the back of the cave, which had appeared to be a possible means of egress proved only a short cul-de-sac and so far as they could see there was no other opening save the front door.

“If you want my advice we’d better beat it right now while the beating’s good,” Bob declared after they had made a complete circuit of the cave and were once more in the outer room.

“You said it. Come on.”

Quickly they gathered up their belongings and, a moment later, started off down the mountain as fast as they could go.

The two boys arrived back at the camp shortly before five o’clock. During the return trip they had not seen a single person, even the keeper of the dam being away when they got there.

“I don’t know about you, Bob, but believe me, I’m tired,” Jack declared as he threw himself on his bed almost as soon as they had entered their cabin.

“I don’t feel exactly rested myself,” Bob smiled as he followed suit.

For half an hour neither spoke again then a knock sounded on the door and Mr. Sleeper came in.

“Well did you find the top of the mountain still there?” he asked.

“We didn’t get to the top,” Jack grinned.

“You didn’t?”

“No. You see we ran across what you might call unsurmountable obstacles, so to speak.”

“But what—”

“I’ll tell you all about it,” Bob interrupted, and proceeded to give him a full account of their adventures.

“Well, of all things,” Mr. Sleeper declared as he finished. “Why didn’t you call me on that radio set?”

“Well, you see, while we were tied up we couldn’t and after we got free and got our things back we figured that we’d better get away without any unnecessary delay,” Bob told him.

“But you say there was no way to get out of that cave except through the door?”

“I said we couldn’t find any. Of course there must be a way. A man can’t just naturally evaporate, you know.”

“No, but isn’t it possible that there was some place in the cave where he could hide?”

“It’s possible, of course, but we didn’t find any,” Bob assured him.

Just then the supper horn sounded and the boys hurried to wash up for the meal.

“Did you ever know a fellow called Skeets?”

Supper was over and Bob and Jack had followed Jacques out into the kitchen and it was Bob who asked the question.

“Skeets?” the breed repeated. “Heem big fellow wid long black hair and whiskers and nose bent, eh?”

“I don’t know what he looks like.” Bob replied. “But I heard him mentioned and just wondered if you know him.”

“Oui, me know heem. Heem one ter’ bad mans. Heem keel man two tree year ago, but no could prove, but me know.”

“Have you seen him lately?”

“Non, no seen heem most two year. Heem ver’ bad mans. Me no want see heem.”

“I would have liked to ask him if he knew about that cave but I didn’t dare to.”

It was shortly after nine o’clock and the two boys were alone in their cabin after a short sail on the lake with the Sleepers.

“You were wise not to,” Jack agreed.

“I’m glad you think so,” Bob assured him. “You see we don’t know for sure just how he stands and until we do we’ve got to be mighty careful. Not that I think he’s mixed up in it but, of course, there’s a chance.”

“You going to sit up tonight?”

“Not for all the ghosts this side of—of—”

“Of where?”

“Well, I guess I don’t know,” Bob laughed. “But it’s me for the hay.”

“Say, Bob,” Jack began a few minutes later after they had undressed, “If I ask you a question, promise me that you won’t jump down my throat.”

“I promise. What is it?”

“Has it ever occurred to you to wonder if the Sleepers are mixed up in this ghost business? Careful now. You know you promised.”

Bob had started up as though greatly surprised at the question, but he lay back again on the bed and for a moment did not answer.

“Well?”

“Just what made you ask that?”

“You answer my question first?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“It has occurred to me. Now what made you ask the question?”

“Because it occurred to me, I suppose. But you don’t think so, do you?”

“No. Do you?”

“N-o-o-.”

“You say that rather doubtfully.”

“Well, there’s one thing about it that I can’t quite make out.”

“And that’s?”

“It’s Mrs. Sleeper not being afraid of ghosts. Why yesterday she nearly fainted at the sight of an angle worm and she says she loves ghosts. It doesn’t fit in somehow.”

Bob made no comment for a few minutes then he said:

“Well, it’s no use saying that the same thing hasn’t been in my mind, for it has, but we must be very careful. The suspicion is far from being proof or even evidence, you know. By the way I intended to ask Jacques if any of the folks who had been seeing ghosts had mentioned about that spot of light. You don’t think that would do any harm, do you?”

“Don’t see why it should.”

“Well, we can ask him in the morning. Good night, sleep tight.”

“And don’t let the bugs bite,” Jack finished as he blew out the light. Then he added: “If you see anything of that spot or any other ghostly manifestation, let me know, will you?”

In less than five minutes both boys were fast asleep. Whether or not the mysterious spot appeared that night they never knew for neither awoke until the breakfast horn rang out at half past six the next morning.

“See any ghosts?” Jack asked rubbing his eyes.

“Nary a ghost,” Bob replied as he jumped out of bed. “Come on, lazy, make it snappy or you’ll be late to breakfast.”

“Be dressed as—I say, Bob, what’s that paper on your bed?”

Bob looked quickly around and saw, on the foot of his bed, a sheet of paper folded once in the middle.

“Well, I’ll be jiggered,” he said a moment later, as he passed the paper to Jack. “What do you know about that?”

Jack took it and read:

There was no signature to the message which was printed in crude letters.

“How’d it get there?” Jack asked as he stepped to the door and tried the lock. “This door is locked.”

“Are you sure?”

“Try it yourself.”

“But you know—”

“You’re wrong. I don’t know, any more than I know how that fellow got out of the cave,” Jack interrupted.

While he was talking Bob had been examining the window opposite the door.

“No marks of anything here,” he announced. “This screen doesn’t seem to have been moved.”

“Of course it hasn’t. You don’t think that ghost would be as clumsy as all that, do you?”

“But how—”

“Tell me how he got out of the cave and I’ll tell you how that letter got here—maybe.”

“But, Jack, this is serious.”

“You bet your life it is.”

“And I’m going to show it to Jacques and to the Sleepers and I want you to watch them closely when I spring it on them. We may get a clue.”

The other guests had not come in to the dining-room when they got there and Jacques was busy at the table. Bob handed him the paper without any word of explanation. The man looked at it, read it several times, turned it over to look on the back and finally turned to Bob.

“Whar you geet heem, eh?”

“It was on my bed this morning.”

“Huh! You keep heem door lock?”

“Yes the door was locked.”

Jacques scratched his head in evident perplexity.

“I dunno what tink,” he finally said. “What you do, eh? You go?”

“Not so you’d notice it,” Jack replied and as he spoke Bob fancied that a look of relief came to the breed’s face.

“Maybe you geet hurt you stay here,” he said, but in a tone in which Bob was sure there was only worriment.

“We’ll take a chance on that,” he said. “The fishing’s too good here to let a thing like that scare us away.”

“And it’s probably only a joke anyway,” Jack added.

Just then the Sleepers, including Helen, entered the room and after greeting them Bob showed them the note.

“You say you found this on your bed?” Mr. Sleeper asked after he had examined it closely.

“Yes,” Bob replied.

“And do you lock your door at night?”

“We have been doing it since we’ve been up here and it was locked this morning.”

“How about the windows?”

“There was no sign to indicate that anyone had crawled in,” Bob assured him.

“But do you think it would have been possible?”

“If you’d asked me that last night I’d have said no right off, that is without us knowing it, but that note didn’t get there without hands.”

“That’s true, of course. But what are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing, I reckon, except to keep our eyes open. You see we’ve been threatened before.”

“But aren’t you scared?” Helen asked anxiously.

“I never heard of a ghost hurting anyone, did you?” Jack laughed.

“But it wasn’t a ghost put that paper there,” she insisted.

“It’s rather strange that it should have been printed, don’t you think?” Mrs. Sleeper asked.

“You mean it looks as though whoever did it was afraid they would recognize the handwriting if it had been written?” her husband asked.

“Well it suggests that. Printing is a common way of avoiding recognition, you know.”

“True, but that suggests that it was done by someone whom they know,” Mr. Sleeper declared with a questioning glance at Bob.

“I see what you mean,” he answered, “but it hardly seems possible.”

“Well, how about it, Sherlock?”

Jack asked the question as soon as they were once more alone in their cabin.

“I don’t think Jacques knew anything about it,” Bob replied. “Do you?”

“If he did he’s a peach of an actor. No, I think he’s innocent. But how about the others?”

“Same verdict in my opinion.”

“Mine too. It would take a lot to make me believe that they are in it.”

“But I thought you said you—”

“I only said it seemed funny that she isn’t afraid of ghosts. I didn’t mean that I really suspected them,” Jack interrupted.

“Well, hurry up, there’s Helen all ready now.”

Helen and the two boys had, the night before, arranged a fishing trip up to a cove some six miles up the lake where Jacques had told them he had caught the largest trout he had ever taken from the lake, and soon they were speeding through the water, Bob at the stern of the canoe and Jack in the bow, with the girl between them. It was a beautiful morning clear and cool and, despite the threatening letter, they were all in high spirits.

“What kind of fly had I better use?” Helen asked when they had reached their destination.

“I’m afraid flies wouldn’t be much good here, not at this time of year,” Bob explained. “You see the water’s very deep here and the fish feed near the bottom, so we brought along some shinners.”

“Then we’re going to troll?”

“Yes, it’s the only way to get the big fellows this late in the season. In May and early June they’ll take a fly all right.”

“Mercy, are you going to hitch on all that lead?” she asked a moment later as Bob took some heavy sinkers from his pocket.

“Have to keep your hook down near the bottom, in fifty feet of water,” he explained.

Quickly the lines were made ready and soon Bob was using his paddle just enough to keep the canoe barely moving, while he held his rod between his legs.

“Let out about a hundred feet of line,” he told her.

“Do they bite very hard?” she asked.

“Not very. You see a laker is not much of a fighter. A three or four-pound square tail will put up more of a fight than a twelve-pound laker. You can usually pull the latter in without playing him at all. But you’re apt to get hold of a salmon and then look out. They’re gamey enough.”

He had just finished speaking when the girl’s rod bent sharply. “I’ve got one,” she cried.

Bob stopped paddling. “Reel him in if he doesn’t pull too hard,” he ordered.

“I guess he’s only a little one,” she declared a moment later after she had recovered about half of her line.

“You never can tell,” Bob cautioned as he picked up the landing net. “Be on your guard for a rush though I hardly think he’ll make one.”

“He’s pulling harder now,” she said and he could see that she was having about all she could do to turn the handle of the reel.

Foot by foot the line came in and finally Bob declared that he could see the fish.

“Steady now,” he cautioned. “Just a little more and I’ll have him.”

Followed a swift thrust of the net and the fish was flopping in the canoe.

“Gracious, he isn’t so small after all,” Helen cried.

“About eight pounds and two and a half feet long,” Bob said as he hit the fish on the head with a small stick putting an end to its struggles.

“You were right when you said they weren’t fighters. Why I’ve had more trouble landing trout not a third as large.”

“But he’ll make up for it when you eat him,” Jack laughed.

Bob started the canoe forward again as soon as he had put a fresh shinner on Helen’s hook. They had gone only a few yards when Jack announced that he had a strike and as Bob glanced back he saw a streak of silver break through the surface of the lake, rise fully a foot above the water and fall back with a loud splash which could be plainly heard.

“You’ve got a salmon and a big one, boy,” he shouted. “Play him easy or you’ll lose him.”

Jack was reeling in as fast as his multiplying reel would permit but before he had the fish half way to the canoe a sudden rush jerked the handle of the reel out of his fingers and before he could apply the drag nearly all his line had disappeared.

“Back her up,” he shouted to Bob, pressing the drag as hard as he dared. “This line’ll never hold that whale.”

Bob was quick to grasp the situation and just as the last few layers of line were leaving the reel, the canoe began to move in the direction the fish had taken. This relieved the strain so that Jack was able to recover a few precious yards before a new rush in the opposite direction nearly jerked the rod from his hands.

“T’other way quick,” he cried.

Again Bob was able to get the canoe in motion in time to save the last few feet of line, but the manoeuver had to be repeated, with many variations, several times before the big fish was finally conquered. But after nearly an hour of battle he succeeded in bringing the exhausted fish within reach of the landing net and in another moment it was safe in the canoe.

“My, what a fish!” Helen gasped. “How much will it weigh? About a hundred pounds?”

“Not quite, I’m afraid,” Bob laughed. “Knock off about eight-five and you’ll be pretty near it.”

“It’s your turn now,” Jack declared as the canoe began to move again. “Better let me play engine for a while so you can—what was that?”

“What was what?”

“Didn’t you hear that twang?”

“No, I didn’t hear anything. You—”

But at that moment a slight splash a few feet to the right of the canoe caused him to turn his head. There, floating lightly on the water, was an arrow. For an instant the two boys looked at each other.

“What do you know about that,” Bob gasped.

“I told you I heard a bow string twang.”

“But this is Maine and in the twentieth century.”

“Look,” Helen suddenly cried, “There’s a piece of birch bark fastened to it.”

Another moment and Jack was removing the bark which had been tightly bound to the shaft just above the feathered end. Carefully he smoothed it out and bent his head to examine it. Scratched on its surface, evidently with some sharp instrument, were two words: “second warning.”

He handed the piece of bark to Bob without a word.

“May I see it?” Helen asked after Bob read it.

He handed her the bark saying: “Looks as though someone was trying to scare us.”

“Of course the one who put that note on your bed is responsible for this as well,” she declared after a moment’s thought.

“I guess there’s not much doubt about that,” Bob agreed and Jack nodded his head.

“What are you going to do about it?” she asked.

“Nothing, except that I think we’d better get back to camp as soon as we can,” Bob replied with a wink at Jack which he evidently understood for he seconded the motion at once.

“But what’s the hurry?” Helen asked.

“Well, you see,” Bob explained, “whoever shot that arrow might take it into his head to shoot at us and he evidently’s a pretty good shot even with a bow and arrow.” He was aware that the explanation was pretty weak but it was the best he could think of on the spur of the moment. Helen looked rather puzzled but offered no objection as they began to reel in their lines.

If she was surprised at the speed with which they sent the light canoe through the water on the way back she said nothing about it, except to caution them a couple of times to be careful or the friction of the water might set the craft on fire. As they rounded a point of land which stretched far out into the lake, and came in sight of the little wharf in front of the camp both boys breathed a silent sigh of relief as they saw the two Sleepers together with Jacques just putting out in the motor boat.

Helen shouted and waved her hand at them and Jacques shut off the engine which he had just started.

“You’re back earlier than we expected,” Mrs. Sleeper said as the canoe drew up alongside. “We were just going up to see how you were making out.”

“Oh, we made out all right,” Helen told her, holding up the salmon by its gills. “How do you like this fellow?”

“Mercy, is it a whale?” her mother asked.

“Not quite,” Helen laughed.

“Did you catch it?”

“No, but I caught this baby,” and she held up the trout for their inspection. “Jack got the big fellow.”

“I didn’t know they grew that large in the lakes of Maine,” Mr. Sleeper said as he reached over and picked up the salmon. “This fellow must weigh all of twenty pounds.”

“Heem weigh fourteen, mebby fifteen pound. Bon feesh but some bigger in here,” Jacques told him.

“Well, I’m not going to be cheated out of my sail,” Mrs. Sleeper declared. “It’s not quite eleven yet and we’ll have time for a short one before Jacques has to start dinner. Anyhow, if it’s late it’ll be all right as we’re the only ones to please. Come on Helen and you too, boys.”

The boys were anxious to be alone in order to compare notes, but they could not well refuse the invitation so they accepted with no show of hesitation. They were gone for an hour and it was but a little past noon when they were back in their own cabin.

“Well, I reckon that lets ’em all out, eh?” Jack asked as soon as he had closed the door.

“So far as that arrow is concerned, yes,” Bob agreed. “Whoever shot it couldn’t have got back here in the time we made, unless he had an airship or something of the sort. No, there’s somebody else, but whether or not any of them are mixed up in it is another question.”

“And one which we ought to be answering before long. We know just about as much about the matter as we did before we came up here.”

“And not much more. That’s a fact, but I hardly see how we could have done any more than we have. I tell you, son, whoever’s at the bottom of this game is deep, mighty deep.”

They talked until the dinner horn rang through the forest and decided on a course of action which they hoped would be productive of results.

“Did you save that piece of bark?”

They had joined the Sleepers in the big diningroom and it was Mr. Sleeper who asked the question. “Helen has told us about it,” he added as Bob reached in his pocket and drew it out.

He examined it carefully and then passed it to his wife.

“Do you think it is from the same party?” she asked, then, turning to the boys, she added: “Mr. Sleeper is quite an expert on hand-writing.”

“I don’t think there’s any doubt about it,” he said at once adding: “Of course, it would be impossible to say that both were printed by the same person so far as the printing itself is concerned since one is on paper and the other on birch bark, but it’s hardly likely that there are two parties up here in the woods trying to scare the boys.”

“I think you’re right, sir,” Bob agreed.

“Isn’t it about time for the show to start?”

The boys had taken a long nap after dinner as they had determined to stay awake all night in an effort to accomplish something toward clearing up the mystery. Since dark they had been sitting in the little cabin not speaking above a whisper and it was Jack who asked the question.

“Five minutes to twelve,” Bob replied.

He had hardly whispered the words when a soft but distinct rap, repeated four times, was heard.

“S-s—h,” Bob cautioned.

For a moment they waited and then the raps were repeated.

“Where is it?” Jack whispered.

“Sounds like it was on the head of my bed.”

“On the wall you mean.”

“Maybe, it’s hard to tell.”

Three more times the raps came and then a weird hollow groan followed seemingly in the room. At the same time the mysterious spot of light sprang into view directly over Jack’s bed.

“They’re giving us a little variation this time anyway,” Jack whispered.

After remaining stationary for two or three minutes during which time it seemed to increase in brightness, the spot began to slowly move toward the ceiling. When near the top of the wall it moved to the right about two feet and then began to descend and finally came to rest in the place where it first appeared.

“Of all the fool—” Jack began but stopped as the raps started again.

“Come on,” Bob whispered. “It’s time we were off.”

They had been sitting side by side in the center of the room so that there was a clear space between the window at the foot of Bob’s bed and the wall opposite. Now they quickly got down on their hands and knees and crept across the floor until they reached the end of the room close by the head of the bed. They had removed the netting from the window in that end of the cabin and in another moment they were both crouching close to the ground outside. The night was intensely dark as the moon had set early in the evening and a south wind had covered the sky with thick clouds so that not a star was visible. For a long moment they listened. The heavy boughs over head sighed and moaned as they swayed in the breeze but no other sound reached them.

“Keep close behind me and don’t make a sound,” Bob cautioned as he got to his feet and started.

“It’s dark enough to cut,” Jack replied. “But you can’t lose me.”

Noiselessly they stole through the thick forest, their feet making not the slightest sound on the ground, thickly carpeted with pine needles. Every few steps they stopped to listen. Once a sharp crack brought them to a sudden halt and they heard a large animal as it bounded off between the trees.

“Only a deer,” Bob whispered.

“Sure, a ghost doesn’t make that kind of a noise,” Jack chuckled. “But aren’t we round pretty near far enough?”

“We must be nearly in line with that window, I should say, but it’s pretty hard to be sure in this pitch blackness.”

He turned slightly to the right and went ahead for about thirty feet when he again stopped.

“Jack,” he whispered as the sound of his brother’s breathing did not reach him.

There was no answer.

“Jack.”

This time he whispered as loudly as he dared, but again there was no answer.

“That’s mighty strange,” he thought. “He was right behind me only a moment ago.”

Carefully he retraced his steps whispering his brother’s name almost continually. But Jack had disappeared as completely as if the ground had opened and swallowed him. For fully fifteen minutes Bob searched using his flash light regardless of consequences and calling his name aloud. But no slightest trace of the missing boy could be discovered. It was baffling and a hot wave of anger surged up within him as he paused and mopped his forehead. What was he to do? That, in some way, his brother had fallen into the hands of their enemies, he felt sure, but how he could have been spirited away without a sound when he was so near was a question he could not answer. It was one of the few times in his life when he felt absolutely helpless. It added to his sense of helplessness when he realized that he had lost all idea of direction. Which way was the cabin? Versed as he was in woodcraft and accustomed to finding his way through the trackless forest with little save his sense of direction, now, in the intense blackness which surrounded him, he realized that he was, for the time being, as completely lost as could have been the merest child. He had turned so many times in his search that he was entirely ignorant as to the points of the compass.

Not that he had any fear regarding his own safety. He knew that he had only to remain where he was until the first streak of dawn showed in the east to be able to find his way back with ease. But, meantime, what of Jack?

“Guess I might as well be hunting around as standing still,” he thought as he threw the light from his flash about him.

And then he stopped and strained his ears as, from what seemed a great distance, through the vast forest, came the sound of weird mocking laughter.

For a long time he stood leaning against a spruce tree and trying to figure out what it meant. How could it have been possible for anyone to have captured Jack when he was so near without the slightest indication of a struggle? He well knew that he was not one to submit tamely to an attack made upon him, but the thought brought him no relief, rather it added to his fear. To search further in the darkness he felt would be useless and he sank down at the foot of the tree to wait for morning. On his knees he fell and the prayer which he offered, that God would keep his brother from harm, was fervent indeed.

Somehow he felt better after the prayer and the thought that He who notes the sparrow’s fall was watching over them comforted him. He was not sleepy at first, but gradually the sound of the branches, swaying softly overhead seemed to be singing a lull-a-bye to him and, before he was aware of it he was asleep.

Suddenly he started up wide awake in an instant. Had he heard his name called? He was not sure but he thought he had heard Jack’s voice.

“Jack.”

There was no answer and, after he had repeated the call several times, he decided that it had been a dream. He saw that the darkness was less intense and knew that daybreak was close at hand. Slowly the light grew as he leaned back against the tree, impatient for the time to come when he could see clearly enough to pick up the trail of whoever had been responsible for Jack’s disappearance.

As soon as he felt that there was light enough he set to work. He knew that he had gone but a short distance from the place where he had missed his brother, although he was not sure in what direction the spot was. For an hour he searched, going around in ever widening circles examining every foot of the ground. He knew that he had to deal with a man or men who were versed in forest lore for none other would have been able to sneak up on them in the darkness unheard and he knew that such a one would leave but a slight trail at the best. Another half hour passed before he found it. There was no sign of a struggle but several foot prints, barely discernible in the soft leafy mold, told the story to his trained eye. There had been two of them he read, but how they had succeeded in preventing him from even crying out was as big a mystery as ever. The trail led down the lake in the direction of the dam. Now that the sun was creeping up he was sure of the direction. The thought of first going back to the camp for help never occurred to him. Jack was in danger and he must get to him with the least possible delay.

The trail, once found, was not so difficult to follow as he had feared. To be sure there were many stretches where the foot prints failed to show in the pine needles, but the growth was thick and a broken twig here and a slight abrasion on the trunk of a tree there, led him rapidly on. Once he feared he had lost it but kept on in the same general direction, and after nearly a mile had been left behind, he picked it up again where the damp mold had preserved the foot prints.

The trail sheered off to the left as he neared the dam and presently he struck a fairly well defined path.

“I’ll bet they’ve taken him up to that cave on Katahdin,” he thought as he hurried along no longer looking for signs.

It was a little past eight o’clock when he reached the foot of the mountain and sat down for a short rest on a log. He had hurried so since he struck the path that he was about winded and knew that he would save time in the end by taking a rest before beginning the climb. In a few minutes he was ready to go on and, to his joy, found that the path continued up the mountain making it much less difficult than they had found it on their previous trip. Still it was rough and in places very steep and before he had gone far he was puffing and nearly out of breath.

“Guess I’d better take it a bit more easy,” he thought as he stopped again for a much needed rest. An hour later he figured that he must be nearly there and stopped every few minutes to listen. It wouldn’t do to be caught unawares, he told himself. Suddenly he heard the sound of voices and, as they seemed to be coming nearer, he quickly stepped out of the path and crouched in a thick clump of bushes.

Soon he saw two men, both well above the average in size, pass only a few feet from where he was hiding. They were talking Canuck but, although he was familiar enough with the language to follow an ordinary conversation, they were talking so rapidly that he was only able to catch a word or two, not enough to afford him a clue as to the subject they were discussing.

“Reckon those are the fellows who nabbed us in the cave,” he thought as they passed out of sight down the mountain. “And that probably leaves only that slim guy,” he added grimly.

Waiting a few minutes longer to make sure that the two half-breeds had really gone, he started off again feeling much rested and greatly encouraged. Still he in no way relaxed his vigilance, feeling certain that the man, who was doubtless the boss of the party, was too sharp to be caught napping if he could help it.

“I don’t know whether or not he has any idea that I’m on his trail, but it’s always best not to take unnecessary chances,” he soliloquized as he crept slowly upward.

In about ten minutes after he had made his fresh start the shack came into sight only a few yards ahead. The path, after turning around a huge rock ran, not into the small clearing in front of the building, but a little to the right. He might easily have missed it altogether and gone on past had he been less careful to miss nothing. In another minute he was lying at full length on the ground behind a thick bush just on the edge of the clearing. From his position he had a good view of the shack and was certain that there was little danger of being seen by the man who he supposed was on guard inside.

As he lay there, watching the door which was open about a foot, his mind was busy with the problem of how he should go about the task which he felt must not be long delayed. The two half-breeds might return at any time and with the three of them there the releasing of his brother would be well nigh impossible. On the other hand the man on guard was doubtless armed with a revolver and probably would not hesitate to use it and a false move on his part would prove disastrous. It was a hard nut to crack and he was still turning the matter over in his mind when the door was suddenly pushed farther open and the slim man stepped outside.

He paused just outside the door and glanced about him. Once his eyes stopped seemingly focused directly on the boy and his heart skipped a beat as he thought he had spied him. But his glance soon turned away and, after seeming to listen for a moment, the man turned and re-entered the shack, closing the door behind him.

“I’d give a good bit to know whether or not he saw me,” Bob thought. After watching a few minutes longer he decided to act. There was a single small window in the front of the shack about three feet to the right of the door and he crept around until he was facing the corner away from it. About twenty feet separated him from the shack and, darting across the intervening space, he crouched close to the building. Had he been seen? If he had the odds, he well knew, would be all with the other man. But, as the minutes passed and nothing developed, he began to breath more freely. He noiselessly edged over until he stood only a couple of feet from the door.

From time to time he could hear the man moving about inside and once he heard him approach the door and even lay his hand on the latch but he evidently changed his mind for some unknown reason and did not open it. It seemed to Bob that never had time passed so slowly. He was in a fever of fear lest the two men should return and find him there. Then the fat would be in the fire for sure, he thought.

He had been standing there close to the door for nearly twenty minutes when he again heard steps approaching the door and in another minute it opened and the man stepped out. Bob was facing the opening and did not hesitate an instant. With a lunge, which he had learned through long practice on the foot-ball field, he threw himself forward and tackled him just below the knees. The surprise was complete and, with a startled cry, the man bowled over with Bob on top of him. But, if he was taken by surprise, he was far from being helpless. Squirming from beneath with the agility of the trained wrestler he almost instantly had their positions reversed and was striving for a strangle hold on Bob’s throat. But Bob foiled the attempt and for a time they rolled over and over now one on top and then the other.

Bob had been well trained in the science of wrestling but he quickly realized that, although his antagonist was slight of build, he had muscles of steel and furthermore was acquainted with the various holds. One after another he tried them only to find himself baffled. However one thing gave him hope. The man was breathing more and more heavily and he knew that he could not be in first-class physical condition. Feeling certain of this he began to conserve his strength exerting himself only enough to prevent his antagonist from obtaining a decisive hold.

Soon he could hear the man’s breath coming in gasps and he judged it was time to again take the offensive. As if realizing the change in the boy’s attitude and knowing that he was nearly winded, the man managed to break a half-Nelson which Bob had secured and sprang to his feet. Bob did the same and for an instant they stood facing each other.

“I’ll teach you,” the man hissed as he sprang forward and aimed a blow at Bob’s head.

But the boy ducked and the blow was wasted on the air. As if maddened to the point of frenzy he rained a shower of blows on him several of which took effect but, although they hurt, they lacked force enough to do any real damage. Bob was watching for an opening the while he was doing his best to protect himself. Suddenly, as if realizing that he was accomplishing nothing, he stepped back and Bob saw his hand reach for his hip pocket. He knew what that meant and, like a flash of lightning, sprang forward. The man’s guard was down and before he could pull his gun from his pocket, Bob had struck with all the force of his one hundred and seventy pounds behind the blow. Fairly on the point of the chin the blow landed and the man toppled over without a sound and lay still. It was a complete knockout.

“Hope I haven’t killed him,” Bob muttered as he felt in his pocket and found a stout piece of cord. “But he’d have had me in another second.”

A small maple tree was close by and pulling the man up against it he soon had his wrists firmly bound together with the tree between them and his back.

“Reckon that’ll hold him,” he muttered as he stepped around in front of him.

Somewhat to his surprise he found that the man’s eyes were open.

“What’s the idea?” he asked in a feeble voice.

“Where’s my brother?” Bob demanded ignoring the question.

“Didn’t know you had one.”

“Well, where’s the boy you brought here last night or rather this morning?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I didn’t expect you’d tell me, but I reckon I can find him.”

“Help yourself.”

Bob started to enter the shack then turned back.

“Guess I’d better take your gun,” he said as he leaned over and pulled the revolver from his pocket. “You got away once and you might this time.”

The man said nothing but smiled in a way that made Bob shiver.

“He’s got something up his sleeve,” he thought as he again turned toward the shack.

Inside the place looked much the same as it had before except that three folding cots had been added and were arranged along one side of the room. The door, leading into the cave, was closed and fastened with the heavy bar. It was a moment’s work to remove the bar and throw open the door.

“Jack,” he cried.

There was no answer and, throwing the light of his flash ahead of him, he entered. It took but a short time to convince himself that Jack was not there and an unaccustomed feeling of fear seized hold of him. Several times he called his name but save for the echo the stillness of the tomb pervaded the place. He had been so certain that he would find his brother in the cave that the disappointment almost overcame him and for a moment he leaned weakly against the wall not knowing what step to take. Finally he shook himself together and went outside.

The man was in the same position in which he had left him and apparently had not moved.

“Well, did you find him?” he asked pleasantly.

“I guess you know well enough,” Bob snapped.

“Well, to tell the truth, of course I didn’t expect you would. I told you he wasn’t there, you know.”

“I’m not so sure of it.”

“No?”

“No. There must be some way out of that cave or some other room to it.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because I’m not a fool.”

“No?”

The man’s grin was exasperating, but Bob steeled himself to keep his temper.

“You got out of there the other day some other way and not through the door and I reckon you couldn’t very well go through solid rock,” he said.

“I congratulate you on your reasoning.”

“Never mind about the congratulations. I want you to tell me where my brother is and I want you to do it quick.”

“But suppose you’re asking the impossible?”

“You mean you don’t know where he is?”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“And I didn’t expect you would, but you can’t very well blame me for that. I mean that you don’t believe me.”

“Will you tell me how you got out of the cave the other day?”

“Hardly.”

“Maybe I can find a way to make you.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. I’m pretty stubborn at times, you know.”

Bob was bluffing for he had not the slightest notion how he could compel the man to disclose the secret of the cave. It may be that stories he had read telling how torture had been applied to force secrets flashed through his mind but, in his heart he knew that he could never do a thing like that unless he was sure that it was the only way of saving a life.

“Suppose I take you down to Greenville and have you arrested?” he suggested.

“On what grounds?” the man smiled.

“Kidnapping.”

“Go ahead. But remember my word will be as good as yours. What proof have you?”

Bob well knew that the man was right. He had no proof beyond his own word and that would not be enough. If he only knew how long it would be before those other men would return he would soon decide what to do. The fact that his captive did not show the least sign of anxiety disquieted him not a little. It indicated that he knew he would be set free before long. Still he was almost certain that his brother was not far off and in the power of the rascals and he was determined to find him if it was in any way possible.

“I’m going to make another search of that cave,” he finally said. “And if those others come back while I’m gone, remember I’ve got a gun and know how to use it.”

“I won’t forget it,” the man grinned. “Good luck to you.”

Before turning back to the shack he first examined his captive’s hands and made sure that he had not loosened the cord.

“You’ve got them tied pretty tight,” the man remarked.

“I intended to,” Bob returned grimly. “But you won’t suffer any if you don’t try to get away.”

“I tried that while you were gone before.”

Back again inside the dark cave he began a systematic examination of its walls. That there was a secret passage way he felt sure. As he had said a man doesn’t pass through solid rock and the man he had tied outside had, in some way, made his escape, therefore there must be a way.

Foot by foot he made the circuit of the room, throwing the rays of his flash light on every inch of the wall. He had covered three sides when a faint sound caught his ear. At first he feared that he had been mistaken, but a moment later it was repeated a trifle louder. It sounded as though some one was striking one rock against another, but it seemed a great way off and he was unable to determine the direction from which it came.

“Jack.” He shouted the name as loudly as he could.

Now the taps came at closer intervals and in a moment he realized that there was a meaning to them.

“B-O-B.”

Slowly he spelled out the name in Morse and knew that it was Jack who was signaling.

“Where are you, Jack?” he shouted.

“U-N-D-E-R Y-O-U-R R-I-G-H-T C-O-R-N-E-R T-R-A-P.”

“All right, I’m coming,” he cried as he hastened to the place indicated.

The corner was littered with dead leaves, but as soon as he had brushed some of them aside with his foot he saw that there was a small trap door fitted with an iron ring. Eagerly he seized hold of the ring and a black hole yawned at his feet. The light from his flash showed that an old ladder led to the depths below, and in another moment he was standing in a circular well about ten feet in diameter. But, as he flashed his light about there was no sign of Jack.

“Where are you, Jack?” he called.

There was no reply in words, but a loud tap sounded over to his right and, flashing his light in that direction, he saw what his eyes had missed at first. Close to the floor was a hole about two feet high and the same distance across. It was but the work of a minute to crawl through, a distance of only three or four feet, and he found himself in another room about half the size of the upper cave and, stretched on the floor, at the further side, was Jack.

“Jack,” he cried as he sprang forward.

A low gurgle greeted him and he saw that there was a gag in the boy’s mouth and that he was tied hand and foot, with his hands behind his back.

“I knew you’d come,” he said as soon as the gag was removed.

“Of course,” Bob replied as he cut the rope which bound his hands and feet. “Are you all right?”

“Sure only a bit stiff.”

“Then let’s get out quick.”

“Why the rush?”

Quickly Bob explained the situation. “Those fellows may be back at any minute,” he finished.

Bob crawled through the hole closely followed by Jack and had just gotten to his feet when a shaft of light was shot through the opening above.

“Get back, quick,” he ordered.

“Of all the luck,” Jack groaned as soon as they were back in the larger chamber again.

“Either they’ve come back or that fellow’s got loose,” Bob said, “and I don’t believe he got that cord off by himself.”

“And we’re caught like rats in a trap.”

“Unless there’s another way out. But we’re safe for the present. They won’t dare come down that ladder. I’ve got that fellow’s gun and he knows it.”

“But why, in the name of common sense, did they let us know that they had come back? If they had waited till we got out they could have caught us without much trouble, that is if the others are really back.”

“I was thinking of that very thing myself.”

“Well, what about it?” Jack asked as Bob paused.

“I don’t know the answer, if that’s what you mean.”

“Well, I don’t know as the answer’s the important thing just now after all. How are we going to get out, is the big question.”

“I’m afraid it’s too big,” Bob sighed as he threw the rays of his light about the room. “Do you suppose there’s any back door to this place?”

“It seems to me that there must be because when you lifted up that trap, I thought I could feel a draft, but of course I might have imagined it.”

“Well, here goes for a search. You stay here and if you hear anything suspicious let me know.”

While he was speaking Bob was moving about the chamber examining the walls but, after he had made a complete circuit, he had to confess that he had found nothing which promised the faintest hope.

“I’m afraid that draft was an imaginary one,” he said as he came back to Jack’s side. “I can find nothing which looks like an opening of any sort.”

“Then I guess it’s up to us to wait till they make their next move,” Jack sighed.

“But the air seems perfectly fresh in here,” Bob said as he sat down on the ground.

“I hadn’t thought of it before but that’s right. There must be some way for air to get in or it would begin to be stuffy.”

“Suppose you take a look. I may have missed something,” Bob proposed handing the flash light to Jack.

For some time they did not speak while Jack moved about throwing the light over every part of the walls and roof. He had already examined the floor in hopes that there might be another trap door.

“Come over here a minute, Bob,” he finally called.

Then, as his brother joined him in the right corner farthest from the hole through which they had crawled, he pointed upward with the flash.

“What do you think of it?” he asked after a moment had passed.

“I think I see what you mean,” Bob replied. “That rocky ledge like stone which juts out there doesn’t seem to meet the roof, is that it?”

“That’s it all right and I believe there’s an opening up there, but how are we going to get up to it? It’s all of twelve feet from the floor.”

“And there isn’t a thing here to help so far as I can see.”

“Well, let’s sit down and think it over. Maybe something will bob up. I didn’t see how I was going to signal to you when I first heard you up there, and I guess I rolled over every square foot of the floor before I got my hands on that piece of rock.”

“The ladder, Jack, the ladder!”

After another thorough search of the chamber which had disclosed nothing to aid them, the boys had sat for some moments side by side on the hard floor each busy with his own thoughts. It was Bob who had broken the silence.

“Well, what do you know about that? Please kick me where it will do the most good. Talk about being dumb. Here we’ve got a perfectly good ladder right close by and we never thought of it.”

In another moment they had crawled back into the other room and were examining the old ladder which led up to the trap door.

“It’s nailed fast to that piece of wood,” Bob said.

“No it isn’t,” Jack insisted and to prove that he was right he grabbed hold of it and proved that while it was nailed fast to the piece of wood as Bob had said, the latter was in no way fastened to the wall.

“Go easy now,” Bob whispered. “We don’t want them to hear us or they will be watching the other opening, that is if there is one.”

“Let me go first, I found it,” Jack insisted a few minutes later after they had dragged the ladder through the hole and had raised it in the corner.

“All right, but I’ll be right at your heels.”

“Must be a hole through here,” Jack announced as soon as his head was up above the ledge. “There’s a pretty strong draft here.”

“How big is it?”

“It’s none too large, but I reckon we can squeeze through.”

“Look out you don’t get stuck in it.”

By this time Jack’s feet had disappeared from sight or rather from touch for, since he had the torch Bob was unable to see a thing. He followed as rapidly as he could raise himself over the edge of the rock. As Jack had said the passage was a pretty tight fit, in fact there was barely room enough for him to hitch his body forward inch by inch. A few feet ahead he could hear Jack grunting and puffing as he crawled along. He had gone but a few feet when a sudden thought struck him. Suppose the men above had heard them and, suspecting what they had done, should drop through the trap and—

“But it’s too late to worry about that now,” he thought. “Probably they’d think that one of us was on guard and be afraid to risk it anyhow.”

It seemed to him that they had been in the passage for a long time although it really was only a few minutes, when Jack called back:

“Light ahead.”

“Wait a minute,” Bob ordered, and Jack stopped until he caught up with him.

“Look,” he said, pressing his body close against the side so that Bob could look past him.

In the distance, although it was hard to judge how far away, appeared a spot of light.

“It’s a way out all right,” he whispered. “But, Jack, we’ve got to be mighty careful, because more than likely one of them at least is watching there.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it.”

“Why?”

“Well, I don’t believe they could hear us when we moved the ladder. We didn’t make hardly a bit of noise and then again they wouldn’t think we would find that hole.”

“But that’s all guess work. I tell you we must go on the assumption that they’re on the watch.”

“Sure, but just the same I bet they aren’t.”

The passage was a little larger now and they were able to make better headway so that it was only a few minutes before they had reached the end of the burrow. Jack had been filled with misgivings for the last thirty feet or so of the passageway. That hole looked mighty small to him and although it seemed to get larger as they got nearer it continued to look far too small for their purpose.

“I was afraid of it,” he called back a minute later as he reached the end.

“Afraid of what?”

“Look at the hole and you’ll see,” he replied squeezing close to the wall.

“Goodness, only a rabbit could get through there,” Bob declared.

“And we’re no rabbits.”

“But there’s one good thing about it. Probably they don’t know of it.”

“But what good’s that going to do us if we can’t get out?”

“Maybe we can. The ground there looks pretty soft and perhaps we can dig out.”

“We might if we had a shovel.”

“You wait a minute,” Bob said as he began to hitch backward. He remembered feeling a flat stone a few feet back and the thought struck him that it might serve as a shovel.

“Here, try this and see how it works,” he said a moment later passing the rock, which was about a foot long and half as wide, to Jack.

“It’ll be a long hard job but I believe it can be done,” Jack announced after he had worked for about five minutes.

“See if you can get back of me and let me try it.”

“Wait till I get tired. We’ll work in short shifts. It isn’t very hard digging even with this stone but the main trouble is going to be to dispose of the dirt.”

“You work it back of you and then I can push it back of me with my hands,” Bob assured him.

But it was slow hard work. They were so cramped for room that they tired quickly, although they changed places every little while.

“Take it easy, Jack boy,” Bob cautioned. “She’s coming along in good shape and we’re in no hurry.”

“And it’s a lucky thing we aren’t,” Jack chuckled, “or I reckon we’d have to wait till our hurry was over.”

It took exactly three hours by Bob’s watch before Jack declared that he believed he could squeeze through.

“You can pull me back by the heels if I get stuck,” he told Bob.

“Wait a minute before you try. How far from the shack do you suppose we are?” Bob asked.

“I should say about three hundred feet.”

“Which is about a hundred too much. I don’t think it’s more than two hundred if it is that.”

“Maybe you’re right. I didn’t pay much attention to the distance while we were crawling through. But what difference does it make?”

“It might make a lot and then it might not make any. It all depends on whether or not you’ll be in sight of the shack when you get out. I don’t think that anyone has been watching this place because I don’t believe they know anything about it, but that doesn’t mean that it’s so, you know. They may be ready to grab us the instant we show our heads, but we’ve got to risk that. I only want to caution you to keep low down and not make any noise.

“All right, then, here goes.” And Jack started to force his body through the hole.

It was a tight fit and required a lot of twisting and squirming, but he finally managed it. As he drew his feet out he lay still stretched at full length on the ground only raising his head slightly to glance about him. There was no sound to indicate the presence of anyone and after a moment he got to his hands and knees. To his great satisfaction he saw that the opening was surrounded by thick growth and that the shack was not visible. He placed his head back into the hole and whispered:

“It’s all right, old man, there’s nobody here and the shack is out of sight.”

“Can you hear them talking?”

“Not a thing.”

“Then they’re probably in the cave. Think I can get through?”

“Not yet. It was all I could do and you’re too fat, but hand me that stone and I’ll soon fix it so you can.”

Working from the outside was much easier and in about fifteen minutes he had enlarged the opening sufficiently to permit him to pull Bob through.

“Now let’s beat it,” Bob said as soon as he was on his feet.

“Just a minute,” Jack proposed. “If they’re in the cave what’s the matter with locking them in? I believe we could do it.”

“But what good would it do?” Bob objected. “No, it’s too much of a risk for the amount of gain. We couldn’t leave them there to starve, you know. I say let’s beat it while the beating’s good.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Jack agreed somewhat reluctantly. “But I sure hate not to try it.”

“He who fights and runs away may live to fight another day,” Bob quoted.

He turned and was about to lead the way down the mountain when the unexpected happened. A large clump of bushes, a few feet behind them, suddenly parted and a burly black whiskered giant stepped out. The man was evidently as much surprised at the meeting as were they and for an instant no one spoke.

“How you geet out?” the man finally demanded.

He did not wait for an answer but turned and shouted:

“Here dey am.”

“Follow me,” Bob said quickly at the same time bounding away into the thick woods closely followed by Jack.

He knew that the path was only a short distance away but, for a moment was undecided as to whether it would be best to strike it or to keep to the thick woods. But before he had taken many steps he decided to pursue the latter course judging that they would be better able to elude them in case they took up the chase.

“Keep close behind me, Jack,” he cried turning his head.

“You can’t lose me,” Jack shouted back. “But hit it up lively. That fellow’s coming like a bull moose.”

So thick was the undergrowth that, although their way led down hill, they were unable to make anything like fast time. Once a loud report sounded not far behind and he heard the thud of the bullet as it struck a tree a little to his right.

“Make it snappy,” Jack cried and he redoubled his efforts to make time.

They could hear the sound of pursuit only a short distance behind and it seemed as though the man was gaining on them. But a moment later the sound of a crash followed by a volley of French oaths reached their ears.

“Guess he came a cropper,” Jack cried. “But don’t let up.”

“Bet your life we won’t,” Bob called back.

For another ten minutes they made the best speed possible down the mountain. Then Bob stopped and for a moment they listened.

“Guess he gave it up after that tumble,” Jack declared.

“Looks that way,” Bob agreed, “but we better make ourselves as scarce as possible. They may know of a short cut down the mountain and try to cut us off.”

After a short rest they started off again in the general direction of the dam, making as fast time as they could through the thick underbrush which covered the ground. Although they felt fairly confident that their pursuers had given up the chase they took no unnecessary chances of a surprise, but were on their guard every minute. That the men were thoroughly familiar with the lay of the land they had little doubt, but as they approached the entrance of the gorge leading up to the dam, and had neither seen or heard anything suspicious, they began to breath more easily.

Finally they reached the dam itself and to their great joy, saw the motor boat from the camp, tied up to the little wharf.

“Hurrah!” Jack shouted. “We don’t have to hike it home.”

“And there’s Jacques,” Bob added as he spied the man coming from the house of the keeper of the dam.

“Whar you tink you was, eh?” the breed asked as soon as he was within speaking distance.

“We’re here, what there is left of us,” Bob laughed as he glanced down at his torn clothes which were literally covered with dirt.

“You look lak’ you been deegin’ wid your hands, oui,” the breed suggested looking at them both with a curious glance.

“I’ll say we’ve been digging,” Jack broke in. “But what are you down here for?”

“Me blow breakfas’ horn two tree time; you no come; we wait long time, still no come; we geet scared, oui, so me tak’ boat, come down here, see if find you.”

“Well you’ve found us all right,” Bob said as he led the way toward the boat. “Let’s get back to camp and we’ll tell you all about it on the way.”

The boat was soon chugging merrily up the lake and Bob suggested that Jack begin the story.

“You haven’t told me how they got hold of you, you know,” he added.

Jack began his story by telling Jacques how they had started out the night before determined to catch whoever it was that, as he put it, was responsible for the monkey shines at the camp.

“I was following along after you, Bob,” he continued, “when, all of a sudden, somebody grabbed me from behind and, before I could cry out, had clapped a big hand over my mouth and pulled me over backwards onto my back. Oh, it was a slick job all right and they didn’t make the least bit of noise about it. I know it sounds fishy and all that, but it’s a fact nevertheless. There were three of ’em and I didn’t have a chance. They slipped a gag in my mouth and tied it so tight that I couldn’t yip a sound. Then they tied my hands behind my back and told me to stand up.

“All this didn’t take half so long as I’ve taken in telling it, but you must have gotten quite aways ahead. Well those two big huskies took hold of me, one on each side, and we started off. I wouldn’t believe it could have been done if I didn’t know that it had been. Gee, but that was the hardest trip I ever took, but at last we got back and they put me where you found me.”

Bob finished the story and then, after giving as good a description of the men as he was able, asked Jacques if he knew them.

The breed had said nothing while the boys had been talking and when Bob asked the question, he slowly shook his head.

“Me no know um,” he declared. “Them no belong round here or me know um.”

All three of the Sleepers were waiting on the wharf as they pulled in and the story had to be told again.

“This is getting serious and something ought to be done about it,” Mr. Sleeper declared as soon as they had finished.

“They won’t catch me napping again,” Jack assured him. “But just now I’m more concerned about some eats than anything else.”

“You poor boys,” Mrs. Sleeper broke in, “dinner will be ready in less than ten minutes. We told Jacques that we would have it ready by the time he got back, but you came a bit sooner than we expected. Go get washed up and I’ll help him get it on the table.”

“It strikes me that we’re making a grand foozle of this job,” Jack declared about an hour later as he threw himself on his bed.

Dinner was over and they had gone to their cabin for a much needed rest.

“I’ll make it unanimous,” Bob smiled as he too stretched out on his bed. “But what could we have done that we haven’t done?”

“Ask me something easy,” Jack yawned.

“I know but we’ve got to do something,” Bob insisted. “We’ve never fallen down on a task yet and I for one don’t propose to begin now.”

“Bravely and nobly spoken, son. And now if you’ll only elucidate the modus operandi everything will be lovely.”

“And the goose’ll hang high,” Bob laughed. “But seriously, Jack, what do you suppose those fellows are up to there in that shack?”

“I’ll never tell you.”

“Meaning you haven’t an idea?”

“Meaning exactly that. Have you?”

“Not one.”

“Then it’s unanimous again. We do have a wonderful faculty of agreeing.”

For a few moments neither spoke, then Bob began:

“You see, it’s like this. If we only—” then he stopped as a light snore from the other bed told him that Jack had started on a trip to the land of Nod.

“Poor fellow, I guess he’s about all in,” he thought as he turned over and closed his eyes and in another minute he too was bound for the same place.

A loud knock on the door awakened him some three hours later. Rubbing his eyes he sat up and glanced over toward Jack’s bed. He saw that his brother was awake and swinging his feet to the floor as he called “come in.”

The door slowly opened and, to their great amazement, the young man of the shack on the mountain, entered.

“Sorry if I’ve disturbed you,” he apologized.

For a moment both boys were too astonished to speak but finally Bob found his voice.

“That’s all right. It’s time we were getting up.”

“I suppose you are somewhat surprised to see me here,” the stranger said, glancing toward a chair as though awaiting an invitation to sit down.

“Well, we weren’t exactly expecting you, if that’s what you mean,” Jack assured him.

“I suppose not. Do you mind if I sit down? The long walk has rather puffed me.” And without waiting for permission he took a seat in a rocking chair.

“You see, it’s this way,” he began after a moment’s pause. “I believe we’ve been working at cross purposes and it occurred to me that a good talk might clear the atmosphere a bit. So I decided to make a call on you.”

“Kind of you,” Jack assured him.

If the stranger sensed the note of sarcasm in Jack’s voice he took no notice of it but continued:

“My name is Kane, George Kane, and I’m a mining engineer, graduated from Boston Tech three years ago. Most of the time since then I’ve been out West and in Alaska hunting gold. It’s a pretty long story and I hope it won’t bore you,” he hesitated.

“Go on,” Bob told him. “We like good stories.”

“Well, they say truth is stranger than fiction so I hope you’ll believe it. Last October I was on the Klondike about forty miles from Dawson. I had been there about three weeks and had staked out a claim which promised to be rich but, I may as well say right off, the promise was not fulfilled. The vein petered out after a few days’ work on it and I was unable to relocate it. You can imagine that I was pretty well discouraged, especially as I was all alone and had no one to cheer me up when the blue devils got hold of me.

“The weather had turned cold and there had been a couple of light snows and I knew that in a week or two winter would set in in earnest. So I decided to return to Dawson for I didn’t want to spend the long winter away up there in the mountains alone. It was to be my last night there and I was busy in my shack getting together what few things I wanted to take out with me. The mercury was well down below zero and it looked as though it might snow before morning. I had nearly finished and was about to turn in when I heard a cry from out of the night. I rushed out of doors and listened, but the cry was not repeated, so I called but there was no reply. I was sure that someone was not far away and in trouble so I got a lantern and started to hunt. It was all of an hour before I stumbled over a form lying huddled close to the foot of a large tree.

“At first I thought the man was dead, but finally I discovered that his heart was still beating, though feebly. He was unconscious and it was sometime before I got him to the shack. I saw at once that he was done for, but I’m not going to tire you with details. He lived a week and I did what I could for him and finally buried him. But, before he died, he told me a lot about himself. It seems he was from Maine and had got into some trouble which had caused him to leave. And now comes the strange part. He told me that just before he had had to skip out, he had found a rich vein of gold up on Mount Katahdin. I had never heard of gold being found in Maine, but I couldn’t see why he should want to lie to me about it, especially as he seemed very grateful for what I had done for him. He told me all about the place here and just how to find it. But either he wasn’t telling the truth or else I didn’t get it straight for I’ve been hunting nearly two weeks and haven’t found a thing.”

As the man finished his story he glanced first at Bob and then at Jack as though anxious to discover whether or not they believed him. For a moment neither spoke, then Bob asked:

“Who are those two fellows with you?”

“Just a couple of breeds I picked up.”

“But I should think you’d be afraid to trust them if you just picked them up.”

“Oh, they don’t know what I’m after,” he replied a trifle uneasily.

“I see. But, may I ask, why did you attack us?”

“That’s what I want to explain. You see, I got the idea that you too were after that gold and it belongs to me, if I can find it.”

“I see,” Bob said dryly.

“How about last night?” Jack asked.

“You mean—”

“I mean why were you prowling around here last night?” Jack interrupted with the suspicion of a threat in his voice.

The man squirmed a bit in his chair as he answered.

“That was a mistake. We were just going through here on our way to a camp up at the head of the lake to get something I had left there one day when I was up there and Jim, that’s one of the breeds, jumped you before I had time to interfere and, to tell the truth, I was afraid to let you go after that so I decided to postpone the trip and take you back to the shack.”

“I see.”

“As I said, I realize that it was wrong and I hope you will overlook it and be friends.”

“Have you heard anything about this camp being haunted?” Bob asked suddenly.

“Yes, I’ve heard it was.”

“But, of course you know nothing about it. I mean you don’t know who it is that’s responsible for it.”

“Certainly not. Why should I?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

“But you seem to suspect—”

“What?”

“I was merely going to say that you implied that you thought I had something to do with it.”

“Not necessarily,” Bob said with a smile.

“Well, you’re mistaken if you think so,” he insisted.

“It really doesn’t matter one way or the other,” Bob said.

“It does to me,” he said as he got up from his chair and picked up his cap. “I hope you believe what I have told you but, of course, I can’t help it if you don’t.”

They waited a moment or two after he had closed the door behind him, when Jack asked:

“Well?”

“Not so you’d notice it.”

“Notice what?”

“Why, that’s it.”

“Say, just what are you trying to get through you?”

“You said it was well and I don’t agree with you, that’s all.”

Jack laughed.

“You know I was asking a question, not making a statement,” he declared.

“Oh, I see,” Bob drawled in an exasperating tone he sometimes assumed.

“Well?”

“What do you think?”

“I asked you first.”

“All right. I think his story’s a lot of bunk.”

“Of course. Anyone could see that, but what did he come here for?”

“I don’t think that’s very hard. He was afraid we’d report the case to someone and spoil his game whatever it is.”

Jack remained silent for a moment in deep thought. Finally he said:

“It must be great to have brains. It’s as clear as crystal to me now but I’d never have thought of that.”

“Well, of course, it’s only a guess, but it’s the only explanation which seems to fit at all.”

“And I bet it’s the answer. But it doesn’t tell us what they’re doing up there.”

“No, I’m as much in the dark about that as ever,” Bob agreed.

“And it doesn’t help any on the question of the ghost.”

“Not a bit. We’re as far away as ever on that point so far as I can see,” Bob agreed.

“Do you think he has anything to do with it?” Jack asked a few minutes later.

“Frankly I haven’t an idea. There was nothing in his manner, when I mentioned the subject to him, that would indicate it, but it’s evident that he’s up to something and it seems to me that if it isn’t that it’s a mighty peculiar coincidence.”

An hour later they were on the wharf ready to start out after trout when a motor boat rounded the point a short distance below.

“Wonder who that is,” Jack said.

“That man in the bow’s Mr. Kane,” Bob declared.

Mr. John Kane, the sheriff of Somerset County, lived in Skowhegan and was well known to the boys. With him, in the boat, were four men, but the boys failed to recognize any of them as the boat drew up at the wharf.

“Hello Bob. Hello Jack,” the sheriff cried as he made the painter fast to a post at the end of the wharf. “How’s things?”

“Fine,” both boys spoke together as they shook hands.

The sheriff then introduced them to the men with him, informing them that they were deputies, with the exception of one who, he explained, was a detective from New York.

After they had acknowledged the introduction all around, the sheriff asked:

“Have you seen a man up here who looks anything like this?”

He took a photograph from his pocket and handed it to Bob. Jack looked over his brother’s shoulder and for a moment they stared hard at the picture.

“Put a mustache on him and it could pass for him. Don’t you think so, Jack?” Bob asked.

“I believe it’s he,” Jack answered.

“Then you think you’ve seen him?” the sheriff asked eagerly.

“I’m almost sure of it,” Bob replied. “He was here a little over an hour ago, that is, if he’s the man you mean.”

“Suppose you describe him,” the detective suggested, adding: “That picture was taken several years ago.”

Bob proceeded to describe the man as well as he was able and when he finished the detective declared that he was sure he was the man.

“What was he doing here?” he asked.

“It’s a pretty long story,” Bob replied, “but if you’ve got the time I’ll tell you all we know about it.”

“Go ahead.”

So Bob told them all about their adventures with the man and his companions.

“Congratulations,” the detective smiled when the story was ended. “You were mighty lucky to get the better of Jim the Penman.”

“Who did you say?” Bob gasped.

“Jim the Penman. I guess you’ve heard of him, eh?”

“Who hasn’t?” Bob returned.

“Who indeed?” the detective repeated. “He’s the most dangerous man as well as the most expert counterfeiter in New York City or in the country for that matter.”

“But what’s he doing up here?” Jack asked.

“That’s hard to say,” the detective replied. “But I can guess. He has recently been putting out a lot of bogus ten-dollar bills in the city, and I’ve been after him for a long time. About two weeks ago I almost had him when he suddenly disappeared. I hunted for him night and day and then, when I was about ready to give up, I got word that he had been seen in Bangor. So I went there and soon got on his trail which led up here. By the way did he tell you his name?”

“He said it was George Kane and that he was a mining engineer,” Bob replied.

“Might be a relative of yours,” the detective glanced at the sheriff with a grin.

“I’m not proud of it anyway,” the latter returned,

“You needn’t worry,” the detective assured him. “He has names almost without number, but I think his real name is Patrick Ewing.”

“But how about the two men with him? Do you have an idea who they are?” the sheriff asked.

“No. I believe you said they were half-breeds,” turning to Bob.

“That’s right.”

“Probably he picked them up around here to help him.”

“Then you think he’s making counterfeit money up here?” Bob asked.

“Probably. Did you see anything in the shack or cave that looked suspicious?”

“Not a thing.”

“Could there have been another chamber in that cave?”

“I don’t think so, that is except the one underneath. We made a pretty careful search, but I suppose it’s possible that we missed it,” Bob said.

“Do you know where this shack or cave is, Mr. Kane?” the detective asked.

“Sure I do. I’ve been there a half dozen times more or less.”

“Then I reckon we might as well be on our way.”

“How about letting us go along?” Jack asked.

“Nothin’ doing,” the detective shook his head decidedly. “It’s too risky. You see, son, that fellow’s a bad one and if he sees you he’ll think you put us on to him and he’ll get you if he can. No, I’ve got plenty of help and it wouldn’t be right to let you take the risk.”

“He’s right, Bob,” the sheriff added. “We don’t need you and there’s no sense in running into danger just for the fun of the thing. If you should go and anything should happen to either of you I’d never be able to face your father or mother again.”

Seeing that the men were determined the boys said no more on the subject but wished them good luck as they pushed off.

“Just the same I’d liked to have gone along,” Jack complained as they stood on the end of the wharf and watched the boat disappear around the point.

“Same here, but I guess they were right about it,” Bob said more cheerfully. “At any rate those fellows aren’t the ghost we’re after and it’s up to us to stay on the job here.”

“How come?”

“Didn’t you hear him say that he lost him in New York only two weeks ago?”

“I remember it now that you mention it.”

“Well then, just put two and two together and see if you don’t get four. Our ghost has been on the job six weeks or more.”

“I get you. As I’ve said before, it’s a great thing to have brains.”

“Well, let’s make it snappy now or it’ll be time for supper before we get to fishing.”

But before they had time to get into the canoe Helen came running on to the wharf.

“Who were those men?” she demanded.

“One was Mr. Kane, the sheriff, and another was a real live detective and the others were deputies,” Jack told her.

“Mercy, how exciting. What did they want?”

“They were after that fellow who kidnapped Jack,” Bob said.

“You see,” Jack broke in, “he’s a noted counterfeiter, known by the name of Jim the Penman.”

“If it isn’t just like a detective story. Do you suppose they’ll get him?”

“Don’t see why they shouldn’t,” Bob said as he picked up the paddle.

“You going fishing? And you wasn’t going to take me? Now you just wait one second till I get my rod,” and she was off up the path before either could offer to go for her.

They did not go far as it was nearly time for supper and they had each caught one trout, Helen’s being by far the largest, when the sound of the horn told them that they must hurry back as Jacques did not like it if anyone was late for a meal.

During the meal Helen’s tongue ran, as Jack afterward told Bob, like a bell clapper, telling her parents how she had just missed seeing and talking to a real live detective.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for worlds,” she pouted.

“I hope they get him,” Mr. Sleeper declared. “I have heard a good deal about him and he is a very dangerous man. I shall not feel easy in my mind until I know that he has been captured. To think that he should be away up here in the woods of Maine. That detective must have made it pretty hot for him in the city to have driven him out.”

They sat on the little porch of the Sleeper’s cabin later than usual that night discussing the events of the day and it was after eleven o’clock before the boys said good night and went to their cabin.

“Guess Mr. Stokes is thinking that we’re a bunch of failures,” Jack declared as he struck a match to light the big lamp on the table. “When did you write to him last?”

“Day before yesterday.”

“He’ll be sending someone else up here or come up himself if we don’t have something definite to report pretty soon, I reckon.”

“Shouldn’t wonder.”

“Well, what—hark, what was that?”

“Sounded like someone groaning.”

“Listen.”

In a moment the sound was heard again more distinctly.

“It’s his nibs, all right,” Jack whispered. “He sure does believe in giving a varied performance.”

The sound continued at intervals for perhaps ten minutes and the last groan, louder than the others, died away so slowly that they were not quite certain when it ceased.

“How far away was it?” Jack whispered.

“Hard to say but it wasn’t far.”

They listened and in a few minutes raps were heard similar to those of the night before.

“Old stuff,” Jack chuckled.

“And there’s the spot of light,” Bob whispered a moment later pointing to the wall. “Turn down that light so that we can see it.”

Jack obeyed and the spot sprang out seemingly brighter than it had been on any previous occasion. For a moment they watched it and then it began to move going over the same route as before.

“More old stuff,” Jack again declared. “Wonder why—”

But before he could say more, Bob caught him by the arm and whispered:

“Look at the window and you’ll see something new.”

Jack looked and gave a violent start for there seemingly framed by the window was a white object. But he did not have time for more than a single glance for Bob was already on a dash for the door and he lost no time in rushing after him. Out of the door they burst and darted around the corner. But the ghost had vanished.

“I don’t suppose it’s any use to hunt after him,” Bob said disgustedly as he leaned against the corner of the cabin.

“No, it’s too dark,” Jack agreed.

Back in the cabin they sat for some time in silence waiting to see if there were to be any further manifestations. But nothing happened and finally Jack said:

“Well I reckon the show’s over for tonight. Me for the hay.”

“Just a minute,” Bob said as he turned up the light. “I’ve got an idea and I want to know how it strikes you.”

“All right, shoot.”

For several moments Bob talked in low tones and as he finished Jack hit him a resounding slap on the back saying:

“Great idea, old man. And I don’t see why it won’t work, but how about the Sleepers?”

“Well, I had thought of them. You remember they arranged with Jacques to take them down to the dam in the morning. He didn’t say what for but I reckon he’s anxious to find out if they got those fellows up in the shack.”

“I guess that’s it.”

“Well, we’ll get up early and see Jacques before they’re around and if he has them we’ll have a good long time to plant them while they’re gone.”

“But won’t we have to tell them about where they are?”

“I guess you’re right,” Bob agreed after a moment’s thought. “It wouldn’t be nice to have one of them stumble on one by accident. No, I wish we could keep mum about it but I guess it would be too risky.”

They were up shortly after five o’clock the next morning and soon after were interviewing the Frenchman in the kitchen.

“Got any traps up here, Jacques?” Bob asked.

“Oui, plenty out in shed but eet close time for trapping now.”

“I know but there’s no close time on ghosts is there?”

“What you mean, eh?”

“Well, you see it’s like this,” and Bob told him what had happened the night before. “Now it occurred to us that if we set some traps we might catch something,” he added.

“Dat one bon idea,” Jacques declared after a moment’s thought. “You find um out in shed up in loft. You tak’ what you lik’ and I hope you catch um ghost. Heem spoil camp long time ’nough.”

“Guess we might as well get them now as later,” Bob said. “As long as we’ve got to tell them about it it won’t do any harm if they do see us.”

As Jacques had said, in the loft of the shed just behind the kitchen they found a large number of traps of all sorts and sizes, from the small ones used to catch musk rats to those large enough to hold a full grown bear.

“Going to use these big ones?” Jack asked.

“Not the largest. These number threes are about right, I reckon. They’ll hold a man without breaking his leg.”

“How many do we want?”

“Let’s see. We want to plant one under that window and about three out near the edge of the woods. Whoever handles the light that makes that spot must stand somewhere near there. Then, if we can find anything that looks like a path near there we’ll put a couple in it. That makes six altogether. You take three and I’ll take three.”

The traps together with the chains were heavy and three made a full sized load. They found a spade in the shed and were soon out back of their cabin by the window where they had seen the ‘ghost’ the night before.

“Now, we’ve got to do a mighty good job at this,” Bob declared as he started to dig in the hard ground. “Whoever is at the bottom of this is nobody’s fool and, even if he does come around only when it’s dark, he’ll smell a mouse if he’s given half a chance.”

“Well, I don’t like to throw bouquets at myself,” Jack grinned, “but we ought to know how to set a trap. We’ve done it times enough.”

Fortunately there was a large pine tree only a few feet from the cabin on that side and the ground was thickly coated with the long pine needles, making it easy to cover the trap so that not the slightest indication of its presence was to be seen.

“There, I hardly think Mr. Ghost will stand in front of that window very long without something happening,” Jack declared as he finished the task.

Just where to locate the others was not so easy to decide. The edge of the woods, on the side of the window through which the spot of light came, was nearly fifty feet from the cabin and they had no way of telling just where a man would be apt to stand. But they picked out the places which seemed to them to promise the most and were busily engaged in planting the fourth trap when Mr. Sleeper and Helen came toward them.

“Hello, what’s the idea?” Mr. Sleeper asked.

“Well, we’ve trapped about everything that is to be trapped in Maine except ghosts and so we thought we’d try our hand at that,” Jack laughed.

“That’s certainly a unique sport,” he smiled. “But it might work at that.”

“If a ghost is heavy enough to spring a trap,” Bob grinned.

“Have you set any anywhere else than here?”

“One just outside our back window. Someone or something was prowling around there last night,” Bob replied. “And we’re going to set the other two somewhere in the woods if we can find any trace of foot steps. We were going to tell you about it at breakfast so that you’d know where they are and not get caught in one of them.”

“That wouldn’t be very pleasant, getting caught I mean.”

Just then the breakfast horn rang out and they hastened to obey its summons. During the meal Mr. Sleeper invited the boys to go down to the dam with them but they declined on the ground that they wanted to get the rest of the traps set. Somewhat to their surprise he did not urge them and soon after the meal was ended they were alone.

“Now for those last two traps,” Bob said as they waved their friends good-bye from the end of the wharf.

“Guess we might as well put them one place as another seeing we haven’t been able to locate the least sign of anything that would indicate from what direction he, it or they come.”

“Well, now that we’re alone we’ll make a more thorough search.”

And for nearly three hours they hunted through the woods going as much as a half mile from the cabin, but at the end of the time they had to acknowledge that they were no wiser than at the start.

“It beats me,” Bob said mopping his forehead.

“Sure does,” Jack agreed as he sat down on a log.

“Well, what’ll we do with them?”

“Might’s well take ’em back, I guess.”

“No, we won’t do that. Let’s plant them near the others. The more we have there the more apt we are to catch something.”

“You’re the boss. Come on and let’s get at it.”

They had just finished setting the last trap when the chug of a motor told them that the motor boat was returning and they hurried down to the wharf arriving there just as it touched.

“Did they get them?” Bob asked.

Mr. Sleeper shook his head and the boy was quick to see that his face bore a troubled expression.

“No, they didn’t get them,” he said slowly. “The sheriff and his men were just ready to drive off as we got there, but I had time for a word with him. It seems that no one was there when they got to the place and they waited all night but they didn’t show up and they decided that they must have got wind that they were after them and cleared out.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Bob said.

“Yes, it’s too bad. I don’t feel safe with men of that stamp around. In fact I made up my mind to leave, but Mrs. Sleeper and Helen won’t hear of it.”

“I should say not,” Helen broke in. “I’m not going to be scared away by them.”

“Did you get the rest of the traps set?” Mr. Sleeper asked.

“Yes, but we put them close by the others. Couldn’t find any other place,” Bob replied.

“Well, I hope you catch something,” Mr. Sleeper smiled as he led the way up to the cabin.

The boys slept a good part of the afternoon as they intended to sit up and watch through the night, and Mr. Sleeper and Helen did the same but Mrs. Sleeper declared that she wasn’t going to lose her beauty sleep until she was sure that a ghost would turn up.

It was nearly nine o’clock when they returned from a long sail on the lake and, declining an invitation to sit on the porch of the Sleeper’s cabin on the ground that they might miss something if they stayed away from their cabin any longer, the boys bade them good night and turned off toward their quarters.

“Give a yell if anything happens,” Mr. Sleeper called when they were about half way to the door. “I’m going to sit up, you know, and if there are any demonstrations I should like to be present.”

“Do you know, Jack,” Bob began a little later, looking up from the book he was reading, “I can’t for the life of me understand how it is that nothing has been seen or heard in the other cabin.”

“Are you sure there hasn’t?”

“Of course we’ve only their word for it.”

“Of course.”

“But why should they lie about it?”

“I haven’t said they had lied.”

“But you implied it.”

“Maybe.”

“Look here, son, do you suspect that they know anything about it?”

“Who was that detective that used to say ‘suspect everyone and everything’? No, frankly I don’t. We came here first and the ghost was busy long before that so how could they be mixed up in it?”

“Of course that’s a point in their favor, but after all it doesn’t prove anything. One or all of them, for that matter might have been around here somewhere without actually stopping at the camp.”

“That’s true too. But really you know we have no real reason to suspect them. They certainly are refined people and why should they be up here for any such purpose as that? If it wasn’t for two or three litle things, about which we have spoken, I’d never have given a thought to them in that connection.”

“I know what you mean and I feel the same way.”

“One thing is pretty sure and that is that if they are mixed up in it they are not the ones who are actually doing it. They couldn’t have shot that arrow the other day you know.”

“And that’s another point in their favor.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to return a verdict of not—What was that?”

A loud thud on the door interrupted him and, even as he asked the question, Jack was on his way toward the door. It was dark outside as there was no moon but the light of the lamp shone out and enabled him to see for a distance of several feet. There was no one in sight and, after a hasty glance around, he was about to turn back when his eye caught sight of an arrow deeply imbedded in the pine door. It took a strong pull to draw it out, but in a moment he had it inside and was showing it to Bob who, instead of following him to the door had hastened to the window beneath which he had set the trap.

“Another warning, I suppose,” he said with a slight grin as he pointed to a bit of paper which was tied with a bit of string about the middle of the arrow.

Jack had it off in a jiffy and together they bent over it. There were but two words printed in large letters, “Last warning.”

“The plot thickens,” Bob whispered and Jack was sure that he detected a note of uneasiness in his brother’s voice.

“Three strikes and out, eh?”

“Not out,” Bob snapped. “In the words of the immortal Perry, ‘We’ve only just begun to fight’.”

“If only we could get hold of something to fight. Ghosts are mighty elusive things, I’ll tell the world,” Jack declared.

“But, judging from that note, we’re about due to find something,” Bob reminded him.

“How about calling Mr. Sleeper?”

“Not yet. Let’s wait and see if anything more happens. We can show him the arrow and note just as well in the morning.”

For an hour they sat, one on each side of the table, and read without speaking. Then, just as the clock, over in the dining cabin, struck eleven Jack closed his book.

“Time to put out the light,” he said.

Bob also closed this book and turned the light so low that practically no light came from it.

“If we hear anything,” he said, “I’m going to hide right below that window sill and if you see that thing I want you to give a low whistle. Somehow or other I have a hunch that he or it’ll be too sharp to walk into that trap and I’m going to make a grab for it.”

He had hardly finished when the spot of light appeared on the wall and he at once did as he had said. The window sill was only about two feet from the floor and his position, as he crouched there, ready to spring was anything but comfortable. He was obliged to move slightly from time to time to keep his muscles from cramping, but he was careful to make no noise.

For what seemed a long time but was in reality only a few minutes he waited and then the signal came. Instantly he jerked himself up and, without waiting for even a glance, thrust both hands through the cotton mosquito netting. They closed on something hard and, with a quick yank, he pulled it in through the window.

“Turn up the light, Jack,” he shouted.

Jack quickly obeyed the order and, as the light flooded the room the two boys gazed at the object which Bob held in his hands. For a moment neither spoke then Jack gave vent to low chuckle.

“Some ghost,” he laughed.

It was little wonder that the boy laughed for the object which Bob was holding in his hands was a pumpkin painted white and mounted on the end of a broom handle. Grotesque features had been cut through the rind and the inside had been hollowed out and a candle fitted to the end of the pole. A white sheet was draped on the lower part of the pumpkin and flowed down nearly to the lower end of the pole.

“Did anybody have hold of it?” Jack asked.

“Must have. It took a good yank to get it away.”

“But did you hear anything?”

“Narry a sound.”

“Where do you suppose they got hold of a pumpkin at this time of year? Must be a last year’s one.”

“Of course.”

“Well, what—”

But the question was left unfinished for at that instant a loud shriek rang out through the night. For an instant the two boys looked at each other without speaking, then they heard Mr. Sleeper calling.

“Bob, Jack. Here quick!”

They rushed out of the cabin together and met Mr. Sleeper half way between the two buildings.

“Did you hear that yell?” he gasped.

“Of course. What was it?” Bob said quickly.

“I—I’m not sure but I’m afraid it was Helen.”

“Helen!”

Both boys uttered the name at the same time.

“It sounded like her voice and she’s gone.”

“Gone? Where?”

“I—I wish I knew. You see, she stepped out on the porch just a minute ago and then I heard that yell. I rushed out as quickly as I could but she wasn’t there.”

Just then Jacques joined them.

“What dat yell?” he demanded.

“That’s what we all want to know,” Bob told him. “Mr. Sleeper thinks it was Helen.”

“Where ees she?”

“She’s gone,” Mr. Sleeper groaned just as a voice called from the cabin.

“Where’s Helen?”

Mrs. Sleeper appeared, coming down the path, a bath robe thrown hastily about her. Her husband caught her in his arms and hastily explained what had happened, trying to make as light of it as possible. But she was not deceived and sobbed heavily as he led her back to the cabin, the others following.

“What can we do?” Mr. Sleeper asked a moment later.

“Go after them, of course,” Jack said eagerly.

“They can’t be far away and if Mrs. Sleeper isn’t afraid to stay here alone I suggest that you and Jacques go one way while Jack and I go another,” Bob suggested.

“Go by all means.” Mrs. Sleeper sobbed. “And don’t come back without her. I couldn’t bear that.”

“I’ll get our flashes,” Jack said.

He was back almost immediately and Mr. Sleeper brought out two flash lights handing one to Jacques.

“We’ll go down the lake while you go up,” Bob proposed. “But we don’t want to overlook anything. Look for a trail and if you find it give a yell and we’ll do the same.”

“Probably her father couldn’t follow an elephant track, but Jacques ought to be able to recognize a trail if he finds one,” Bob said as soon as they were out of hearing of the others.

“It’s like hunting for a needle in a hay stack in this darkness, but take it from me, we’re going to find that girl,” Jack declared.

“You said it, son,” Bob replied grimly.

Putting into use every bit of the training they had received from long years spent in the woods they made their way, as rapidly as they deemed prudent, through the black forest.

“Perhaps they took her in a canoe,” Jack suggested.

“Maybe, but if they did it would be useless to try to follow them on the lake in the night. Water leaves no trail, you know. No. I’ve a hunch that they didn’t have a boat and that they went this way.”

“Well, I hope your hunch is right,” Jack declared as he stubbed his toe on a root and fell headlong.

For an hour they pushed on. They were not going in a straight line, but were zig-zagging in the hope that they would cross the trail of the man or men who had stolen the girl, but, as time passed and they found not the slightest clue, a feeling of discouragement took possession of them.

“I’m afraid it’s no use,” Bob panted as he stopped to rest. “Either they didn’t come this way or else they were clever enough not to leave a trail.”

“I think your first guess is right,” Jack declared. “I don’t see how anyone could get through this thick woods in the dark without leaving some sign.”

“Shall we turn back?”

“After what she said?”

“I know, but—”

“No buts about it. Let’s keep at it. It’s the only thing to do.”

“All right, come on.”

They had gone but a few feet when Jack’s keen eyes caught sight of something white caught on an old stump. With a low cry he snatched it up and held it out to Bob.

“It’s hers,” he declared.

“Are you sure?” Bob asked looking closely at the small handkerchief.

“Of course I am. Look at that S in the corner.”

“I guess there’s no doubt about it. Now let’s see if we can’t find the trail.”

For some minutes, by the light of the flashes, they searched. A broken twig, a single imprint of a foot or an abrasion of the bark of a tree would be enough to give them the direction. And finally, a few feet away from the place where he had found the handkerchief, Jack hit it.

“Here we are, Bob,” he cried, “see that broken twig?”

It is one thing to find a hidden trail in the dense woods when one does not know where to look, but it is not nearly so difficult for one versed in the art to follow the trail once it is located. From now on they had little trouble in keeping on the scent.

“We promised to yell if we found it,” Jack reminded Bob a moment later.

“I know, but it would be the wrong thing to do now. In the first place they wouldn’t hear us and then we may be nearer the villains than we think.”

So they pushed on, now making fairly rapid headway and then having to hunt for some time before being sure which way the trail led.

“I’ve lost all sense of direction,” Jack said, after they had searched for several minutes, about a half hour after striking the trail, “but it doesn’t seem to me that we’re heading for Mount Katahdin. How about it?”

“I haven’t been paying much attention to that myself, but I think we’re a long way off the mountain trail. Unless I’m mistaken we’ve been heading toward Millinockett Lake for some time.”

“But what do you suppose—Hark, did you hear that?”

“No, I heard nothing.”

“Well, I did. Listen.”

Both boys strained their ears and a moment later a faint but unmistakable sound was heard.

“It’s a girl crying,” Jack declared.

“And only a little way ahead of us,” Bob added. “Come on but be careful, it may be a trap.”

They had been using their flash lights freely as it was necessary in order to make any kind of time through the dense forest, but now they groped their way between the trees in the pitch darkness fearing to show a light. That they were pitted against a ruthless and keen enemy they did not doubt and they had no intention of playing into his hands if they could avoid it. As they advanced the sobbing became more clearly audible and they knew that they were going in the right direction. That it was Helen they had little doubt and both longed to call out that they were coming, but prudence forebade it.

Not a sound did they make as they crept closer to the girl, testing every step before making the advance. It was so dark that they were unable to see even a foot ahead and they were obliged to keep hold of hands to avoid being separated. As soon as the sound of the sobbing assured them that they were within a few feet of the girl they stopped and, for several moments, listened intently.

Not a breath of air stirred the branches overhead and a death-like stillness pervaded the forest, broken only by the low sobs of the girl.

“If there’s anyone with her they’re keeping mighty still,” Bob whispered placing his mouth close to Jack’s ear.

“I don’t believe there’s anyone there but her.”

“Nor do I but we must be sure. You wait here a minute and I’ll get a bit closer.”

Jack was going to protest, but Bob crept off before he had time to say a word and there was nothing for him to do but wait. He knew his brother’s ability to take care of himself but, as he afterward confessed, his heart was in his mouth.

Noiselessly as a shadow Bob crept on his hands and knees foot by foot decreasing the distance between himself and the girl. Not a twig rustled nor did a stick move beneath him as he advanced. At last he knew that he could reach out his hand and touch her as he could plainly hear her deep breathing between the sobs which had now nearly ceased.

“Helen,” he whispered.

A slight movement told him that she had heard him, but she made no reply.

“Helen, it’s Bob,” he whispered again.

“Bob!”

The reply was low but the tone indicated her joy.

“Is anyone here with you?”

“I—I don’t know, but I don’t think so.”

“Take hold of my hand and try not to make a sound,” he whispered as he reached out his hand in the darkness.

As he found her hand he backed slowly away drawing her after him. No doubt she made as little noise as possible, but she was totally unskilled in the art of moving noiselessly through the darkness and to Bob it seemed as though she made noise enough to be heard a mile. But nothing happened and foot by foot they won their way back to where Jack was waiting.

Of course the latter knew that they were coming as he knew that Bob alone would not make the noise he could plainly hear.

“Come on, Jack, let’s beat it,” Bob said as soon as he was near enough to whisper.

For perhaps fifteen minutes they crept through the woods the boys noiselessly and the girl making no more than she could help.

“Now I reckon we can stop a bit,” Bob said after he knew that they had covered several rods. “Now, Helen, suppose you tell us about it.”

“But don’t speak above a whisper,” Jack cautioned her.

“I came out on the porch and someone grabbed me,” she began. “I gave a yell and then a hand was pressed over my mouth and I couldn’t make a sound. Then he picked me up and ran and—and I guess that’s about all,” she finished.

“Did he carry you all this way?” Bob asked.

“Every step. He must be a giant for he handled me as if I weighed about ten pounds.

“And there was only the one?”

“That’s all.”

“But what became of him?” Jack asked.

“Well, a little while ago we saw a light through the trees. I guess it must have been your light, and he began to hurry faster. I didn’t dare make a sound because he had told me that he would kill me if I did. Then he fell and I guess he must have hurt his ankle because he swore fearfully. He picked me up again and started off but he limped a good deal, and—and pretty soon he threw me down and, without saying a word, started off alone. That’s all I know. But, tell me, how did you find me?”

“I—I guess God must have led us to you,” Bob said slowly. “I don’t know how else we picked up the trail.”

“He must have. I knew that you’d try and I asked Him to show you the way.”

“I guess we’ve been quiet all for nothing,” Jack said aloud.

“Maybe. But it’s better to be careful than sorry, you know,” Bob told him.

“How far are we from the cabin?” Helen asked.

“Pretty hard to say,” Bob replied, “But it must be all of five miles, maybe more.”

“Where’s father?”

“He and Jacques went the other way,” Jack told her. “You see, we had no way of knowing which way you had gone so we divided forces.”

“Can you find the way back?”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Bob answered.

“Then—then you think we’re lost?”

“Don’t you fret about that,” Jack hastened to reassure her. “We can find the way all right as soon as it gets light.” He meant that he might not be able to do it in the dark.

“Oh.” It was evident that she was much relieved.

“It’ll be light in about three hours,” Bob told them. “Now, had we better camp here or try to find it in the dark?”

“I’m lost,” Jack confessed. “Haven’t the least idea which way home is. How about you?”

“Well, it’s pretty hard to get much idea of direction when you can’t see your hand before your face, but I believe we can follow our trail back provided we can pick it up.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“You and Helen wait here and I’ll look about a bit and see if I can find it,” and before either could say a word he was gone.

Bob was back in less than ten minutes with the cheering news that he had found the trail and that it was only a little way off.

“We’ll take it easy and be sure and not lose it,” he said as he took hold of Helen’s hand and led the way, Jack bringing up the rear clinging fast to her other hand.

“Here’s where we found your handkerchief,” Bob told her an hour later as he came to a halt and flashed his light on the stump.

“Yes, I managed to get it out and drop it without him knowing it in hopes you might find it.”

“It’s mighty lucky you did,” Bob said. “I’m afraid we would never have picked up your trail if you hadn’t. That fellow must be an artist in going through the woods without leaving a mark.”

“He did seem to be pretty careful. He had a flashlight and kept it on all the time until he saw yours. Then he snapped it off and I guess that’s why he fell.”

“It’s funny we didn’t see his light,” Jack said to Bob.

“It does seem rather strange,” he agreed.

They rested a few minutes longer and then started off again. They had little trouble in following the back trail as they had made no effort at concealment and signs of their passing were plenty.

Dawn was just breaking in the east as they reached the camp. Helen gave a loud call as they emerged from the woods and almost instantly her mother was flying down the path to meet her.

“My darling child,” she sobbed as she gathered the girl in her arms.

Helen quickly told the story and Mrs. Sleeper was most generous in her praise of the two boys.

“Where’s dad?” Helen asked as they reached the porch.

“He hasn’t come back yet.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Helen declared. “He must be worried half to death out there in the woods.”

“I suppose so,” her mother sighed. “But he’s got Jacques with him and they’ll probably be back before long. But I’ve had enough of ghosts at last,” she declared turning to Bob. “I never thought I could be so frightened.”

“What was it?” he asked eagerly.

“I’m sure I don’t know. It began about an hour after you left. First I heard a noise over toward your cabin and came out on the porch to see if I could see what it was. Your place was all lit up and, through the windows, I could see something all white moving about and every minute or two there would be a noise as though someone was pounding on a tin wash dish. Then off to the right, in the woods there, a bright light would flare up and then die down, and once I saw a white thing run, or rather float, along the path between your cabin and the dining-hall. It looked about ten feet tall but I don’t suppose it was. Anyway, when it got to the door, it seemed to pass right through it without bothering to open it. And then—”

“Yes?” Bob encouraged as she paused.

“Then after a few minutes it came out again and floated back to your cabin and the noises began again.”

“Poor mother. It’s a wonder you didn’t die of fright,” Helen declared.

“Well, I didn’t, but I was scared.”

“And no wonder,” Jack said.

“How long did it keep up?” Bob asked.

“It must have been all of three hours.”

“Was there anything else?”

“I—I don’t think so. After I saw the thing go back into your cabin I went inside and locked the door, but I could still hear the noise.”

“Just imagine it,” Helen sighed.

At that moment a loud whistle was heard and almost immediately Mr. Sleeper and Jacques emerged from the forest. The former came slowly toward the cabin dragging one foot after the other, his head bent on his chest as though he feared to meet his wife and tell her that they had failed. But his entire aspect changed as he heard Helen’s cry of welcome and assurance.

“Thank God!” he cried as he hugged her to his heart.

The story, of course, had to be told all over again and at it’s conclusion Jacques said:

“Me have breakfus een two tree minutes.”

The boys, saying that they would go and wash up, turned toward their cabin and the others went inside. It must be confessed that Bob threw open the door of the cabin with a distinct feeling of fear in his heart. Was the mid-night prowler concealed there ready to jump out at them? That was the question he had been asking himself for the past few minutes. But there was no sign of fear in his action as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Though they had said nothing on the way over from the other cabin they both more than half expected to find the place in a condition of chaos. But everything was exactly as they had left it. Not a single sign of anyone having been there could they find although they made a most thorough search.

“All quiet along the Potomac,” Bob grinned as he straightened up after looking under his bed.

“Seems that way.”

“That ghost must have been a very orderly sort,” Bob remarked drily.

“Just what I was thinking,” Jack agreed.

For a moment they stood and looked at each other.

“Out with it,” Jack finally said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you are thinking that she was lying.”

“But why should she?” Bob asked not denying the accusation.

“Ask me something easy,” Jack retorted.

“Confound it, just as we make up our minds that they know nothing at all about it, something happens to throw suspicion on them.”

“My sentiments to a dot.”

“But that job tonight wasn’t a part of their game, that is, if they are mixed up in it.” Bob insisted. “They may be good actors for all I know but that wasn’t faked. Not one little bit.”

“Again I agree with you. But, tell me this: just what makes you think she was not telling the truth? It would be possible for someone to come in here and prance around without disturbing things, you know. There isn’t so much to get out of place.”

“It isn’t that so much,” Bob said slowly. “But just think, now. We find her all worked up over something she saw and heard in this cabin. She’s deeply grateful to us for finding Helen and yet, she lets us come over here and come in without a word. Now wouldn’t you have thought that she would have insisted on having Jacques and her husband come with us?”

“Of course I’d thought of that too, but perhaps in the excitement, she didn’t think of it.”

“Maybe that’s it but all the same I’m more inclined to think that they know something, than I’ve been at any time before.”

“It seems to be a mystery within a mystery all right,” Jack declared.

“Another thing that worries me is about those traps. How could a body get up to that window and hold up that thing as he did without stepping on that trap unless he knew it was there? Of course, it would be easy enough if he did know it but if he didn’t I can’t understand it.”

“And they and Jacques are the only ones except ourselves who do know about them.”

“Exactly.”

“But you mustn’t overlook the possibility that whoever it is that’s cutting up these didos might have been watching when we set them.”

“That’s true too, but I don’t believe it.”

“Neither do I, but it’s not impossible.”

“Well, there’s but one thing to do,” Bob declared after a long pause.

“What’s that?”

“Go and get Sicum.”

“Just the thing,” Jack cried slapping Bob on the back. “Why didn’t we think of it before?”

“I did, but to tell the truth, I kinder hated to give up beat.”

“Beat nothing. That’ll be simply bringing up reinforcements,” Jack laughed.

Before they could discuss the new plan further the breakfast horn sounded and they hastened to the dining-room. During the meal, Bob, much to Jack’s surprise, told the Sleepers of their intention to go for the dog, Sicum, which, he explained, belonged to their old Indian friend, Kernertok.

“Sicum’s a wonderful dog,” he told them.

“But what will you do with him here?” Mr. Sleeper asked.

“Track down that ghost,” Bob said. “He may not leave any tracks which we can follow, but I’ll bet Sicum can pick them up all right.”

“If he can’t nothing can,” Jack added.

“What in the name of common sense did you want to tell them we were going after Sicum for?”

It was still early when they returned to their cabin after breakfast and Jack asked the question as soon as he had closed the door behind him.

“I had a reason and I’ll tell you about it while we’re on the way. We must get a couple hours’ sleep now,” Bob replied as he threw himself on the bed and was almost instantly lost to the world.

They had asked Jacques to call them at nine o’clock and shortly after that hour they were paddling down the lake. Bob was in the stern and, as soon as they had rounded the point just below the camp, instead of heading for the dam he turned the canoe in toward the shore.

“Hey, what’s the big idea?” Jack asked.

Bob did not reply until the bow of the canoe scraped on the sand, then he said:

“You wanted to know why I told the folks where we were going?”

“Sure I do.”

“All right. You see, it occurred to me that now would be a good time to put into execution a plan that I’ve had in mind for some time. It is this. If they are mixed up in this thing in any way the knowledge that we’re going to bring the dog here will, I believe, cause them to make some change in their plans. Now I’m going to let you go for Sicum while I slip back and watch the camp.”

“But suppose they should catch you?”

“I’ve thought of that but they won’t.”

“I don’t like it,” Jack declared after a short pause. “If they’re innocent and I still believe they are, I don’t like the idea of spying on them.”

“I expected you would say that and I feel the same way about it, but I’ve thought it all over and I believe that the end justifies the means. If they are in it of course it’s no more than they deserve and if they are not what they don’t know isn’t going to hurt them.”

“If only they don’t find it out,” Jack mused doubtfully.

“Well, of course, if you’re opposed to it we’ll drop it.”

“I’m not. Since you put it that way I think it’s a good plan only, for goodness sake, be careful.”

“I will,” Bob promised as he stepped out of the canoe.

“But where will I pick you up? And suppose they should take a notion to come down to the dam or—”

“Or a dozen other things,” Bob interrupted. “Let’s not cross those bridges till we come to them.”

“I know, but—”

“I’ve got the pocket radios here,” Bob again interrupted as he handed one of the small cases to his brother. “So we’ll be able to keep in touch with each other all right. It’ll take you about an hour to get down to the dam and another hour from there to Kernertok’s cabin. Give you an hour there and say three to get back and you ought to be here about three o’clock. Unless something happens I’ll be here before that time waiting for you.”

“Unless something happens,” Jack repeated. “That’s a good one.”

“What do you mean, a good one?”

“Did you ever know of us starting out on a thing like this unless something happened? I’ll bet something’ll happen all right.”

“Well, we’ll both be careful and that’s the best we can do,” Bob assured him.

“All right, so long,” and Jack pushed off and again headed down the lake.

Bob stood on the shore and watched until his brother was but a speck on the surface of the lake, then he turned and plunged into the forest which at that point was very dense. It was only a short distance back to the camp and he was soon looking for a good hiding place from which he would have a good view of the cabins and himself remain unseen. He realized that his position was a most delicate one. If their friends were innocent not for worlds would he have them know that he was spying on them but as he had told Jack, he believed that suspicion pointed to them with sufficient force to justify the espionage.

At the edge of the clearing and located about fifty feet from the cabin occupied by the Sleepers, grew an exceptionally large spruce tree with very thick branches. After making a thorough survey of the place Bob decided that up among the branches of that spruce would be the best place he could find. They were thick enough, he thought, to shield him from any but a most searching glance. The problem of getting up there bothered him the most, and he knew that it would be a risk but, as he had been unable to find anything else which suited half as well, he decided to take it.

Keeping the trunk of the tree between himself and the cabin he crept up until he crouched at its foot. There he paused and listened. He could hear Helen singing within the cabin, but of her parents there was no sound. After a minute had passed he leaped for the lowest branch and quickly swung himself up. Up he climbed until he was nearly two-thirds of the way to the top. Here the branches were especially thick and two, growing only a few inches apart, made a fairly comfortable seat. By pushing aside a side branch he found that he had a good view of the greater part of the camp and was sure that there was little danger of being discovered.

For an hour he watched before catching sight of a soul. Then he saw the breed come from the dining cabin and slowly approach the cabin occupied by the Sleepers. As he stepped onto the porch Mr. Sleeper came out from the living room and met him. The boy was undecided as to whether or not the meeting was by appointment but, as the man motioned Jacques to a seat he judged that he had been expecting him.

If only he could hear what they were talking about, he thought, and then as he realized that it would be eavesdropping, he knew that, even were it possible, he would shrink from doing it.

“But that’s practically what I’m doing now,” he thought as he slowly let the branch drop back into its proper place.

For a moment he seriously considered giving over the espionage to which he was subjecting the camp, but his better judgment prevailed and he decided to see it through.

“It can’t possibly harm any of them if they’re all right,” he muttered half aloud, as he again pushed aside the branch.

The two men remained in earnest conversation for the better part of an hour and, although he was, of course, unable to hear a word, he could tell that Mr. Sleeper was trying argument after argument to induce Jacques to consent to something and that the latter was steadily refusing. Whether or not he finally succeeded he was not sure, but they shook hands warmly when Jacques rose to go and, from the smile on Mr. Sleeper’s face he judged that his arguments had not been entirely in vain.

Just then he heard a slight buzzing sound and quickly taking a small case from his pocket, he unwound a short bit of cord and placed the telephone receiver to his ear. Then, placing his lips close to the mouth piece he spoke in a tone hardly above a whisper.

“All right, Jack?”

“Sure it’s all right.” The words came through the air as plainly as though the speaker were by his side. “How are things there?”

“Nothing definite and I don’t want to talk any more than I can help. I’m too near the cottage.”

“Righto, I understand and you needn’t say another word. I got here all right and Kernertok and Sicum are coming back with me as soon as we get a bite. I’ve told Kernertok all about things and, although you’ll hardly believe it, he’s really excited about it. Says that if Sicum can’t trail a ghost he’s no good. Sicum seems in fine fettle and wants to be remembered to you. I’ll call you again when we get to the dam and let you know how soon to expect us. Be careful you don’t get pinched. Good bye.”

Bob made no reply but took the receiver from his ear and carefully replaced the case in his pocket.

“So far so good,” he smiled as he took another peep.

No one was in sight and it was nearly another hour before the Sleepers came out of the cabin and went slowly toward the dining cabin. Evidently they were going to dinner and the thought reminded the boy that he was hungry, but knowing that he would have to wait several hours before he could satisfy his hunger, he proceeded to forget about it, a task at which he was very expert.

Half an hour later the Sleepers returned to their cabin and, after remaining inside for only a few minutes, Mr. Sleeper and Helen came out and the former carried in his hand an object which at once made the boy sit up and take intense notice.

“Now what the dickins,” he muttered.

The object was a paper balloon about two feet tall and bright red in color. They went toward the wharf and a moment later disappeared behind the dining cabin.

“They’re going to send it up from the end of the wharf or I’m a Dutchman,” he thought.

The big dining-cabin hid the wharf from his view but in about ten minutes he spied the balloon floating lazily up over the lake.

“Now what do you know about that?” he asked himself. “It doesn’t seem possible that he’s sending up a hot-air balloon simply to amuse Helen. She’s too old for that kind of amusement, I should think. No, it must be a signal for someone.”

The wind took the balloon far out over the lake and he watched it until it was lost in the blue haze.

“There’s something phony about them sure as guns,” he muttered as he watched for their return.

But it was nearly a half hour before he again saw them. Then he could see that they were talking excitedly as they hurried back to their cabin.

“Kind of looks as though they’d had an answer already,” he thought. “What a mess it is. There seems to be more loose ends to this thing than you can shake a stick at. But just wait till Sicum gets here. Then I’ll bet there’ll be something doing unless that signal means ‘nothing doing at present.’”

A few minutes later he saw the girl come out of the cabin and, to his great alarm, she came directly toward his tree. She walked slowly, her eyes on the ground as though in deep thought, but she did not pause until she was right under him. Then she sat down on the ground and leaned her back against the trunk of the tree. Bob hardly dared to breathe. Why, of all places did she have to choose that particular tree to sit under? He was located in such a position that he could see her as he glanced down and he knew that, in case she looked up, she could not well help seeing him.

Dare he try to move around to the other side of the trunk? There was now only the slightest of breezes and it was so still that he could hear the thumping of his heart and it seemed almost as though she too might hear it. Still, if he remained where he was the chances were ten to one, he thought that she would, sooner or later, look up and then the fat would be in the fire for a fact. Finally he decided to make the attempt. He felt sure that he could do it without making a sound provided he could prevent the branches from rubbing against each other as he shifted his weight from one to the other. That was where the danger lay.

Reaching up he grasped hold of a large branch directly over his head and slowly pulled himself up until he was standing on the two limbs upon which he had been sitting. Unfortunately these branches were comparatively small and, although he was only a couple of feet from the trunk of the tree, he knew that they would move when he took his weight from them. But could he do it so slowly that there would be no noise? Carefully inch by inch he moved his weight in toward the trunk, and was congratulating himself that he was going to accomplish it in safety, when one of the branches sprang upward making a loud swishing sound. He knew instantly that it had been caught in some way beneath the other branch and the shifting of his weight had served to dislodge it.

He heard the girl give vent to a startled cry as she sprang to her feet, and, no longer delaying his movements, he quickly swung himself around to the other side of the trunk.

“Who’s there?”

Bob made no reply, hoping that she would decide that her ears had deceived her and resume her seat. But evidently that was farthest from her intentions.

“Who’s there?” she asked again.

Then after waiting a moment for an answer she turned and ran toward the cabin.

Bob knew that there was no time to be lost and he was half way to the ground before she reached the porch. Just as he dropped from the lower limb he heard her calling for her father. Then he ran as fast as he could through the thick woods and did not stop until he had covered all of a hundred yards.

“Reckon I’m safe now,” he thought as he sat down on a fallen trunk and listened.

“You might as well come down now as later.”

The words came to him very faintly, but he had no trouble in recognizing Mr. Sleeper’s voice.

Forgetting his aversion to eavesdropping he cautiously crept a little nearer until he could hear them talking.

“There’s no one up there,” he heard Mr. Sleeper say.

“Well, there was,” Helen replied.

“Probably your imagination.”

“No, it wasn’t. I saw his leg.”

“Well, he’s gone now anyhow.”

“But who could it have been?”

The answer was so low that Bob was unable to hear it, but evidently Helen did not agree for he heard her say:

“I don’t believe it.”

For a moment or two they continued to converse but they spoke in tones so low that he was unable to catch more than a word now and then. Then they walked slowly back to the cabin. At first Bob was minded to resume his former position in the tree, but second thought convinced him that it would involve too much risk.

“It’s more than likely that he’ll keep an eye on that tree the rest of the day,” he told himself as he walked slowly back into the woods.

He was deeply grieved for he had liked them all and the thought that they were mixed up in a dishonest transaction made his hearty heavy.

“And it sure looks as though Jacques knows something about it to say the least,” he muttered as he again sat down on the tree trunk. “But what can be their object? What are they trying to accomplish?”

But he found it much easier to ask these questions than to find a satisfactory answer to them and, after a short session of useless pondering, he started off toward the place where he was to meet Jack.

Just as he arrived there he heard the signal on the pocket radio and in an instant he was talking with his brother.

“Got here all right,” Jack’s voice declared. “We’re just ready to start in the canoe. Where are you?”

“Right where you left me.”

“Deserted your post, eh.”

“Not exactly, but I’ll tell you all about it when you get here.”

“Just one question. Have you learned anything favorable or unfavorable?”

“I’m afraid it’s the latter,” Bob replied. “But I’m not sure.”

“All right. Good bye, see you in a half hour.”

“He’s got to dig some if he does,” Bob smiled to himself as he slipped the case back into his pocket.

But he was only ten minutes out of the way at that. The old Indian, Kernertok, in the stern and Jack in the bow made a combination hard to beat. It was hard to tell which one, Kernertok or Sicum, was the more pleased to see Bob. The Indian merely grunted his pleasure as he held out his hand, but the boys both knew just what that particular grunt meant. To be sure Sicum, half collie and the other half, as Kernertok declared, “just dog,” although the boys more than suspected that his father was a timber wolf, was more demonstrative in his greeting, jumping on him with so much force that he was nearly knocked off his feet. But they knew well that in the old Indian and his dog they possessed two friends that could always be depended on.

“Ten minutes late,” Bob told Jack as soon as he had quieted the dog.

“Wind was against us.”

“Um blow heap hard out on lake,” Kernertok backed him up.

“And now what about it?” Jack demanded.

Quickly Bob gave them a full account of the events of the day and Jack’s expression became more and more mystified as he proceeded.

“Now what do you know about that?” he asked as Bob paused. “This thing has more angles to it than Carter has liver pills.”

“Is Sicum’s nose in good shape?” Bob asked the Indian.

“Sicum, him get heap lazy. No get ’nough work an’ heap too much eats, but him nose still heap sharp.”

“And a sharp nose is what we need,” Jack declared.

“You said it,” Bob agreed as they pushed off in the canoe and started around the point.

Helen was on the wharf and gave the old Indian a warm greeting which plainly pleased him, but she shrank from Sicum as he gave vent to a low rumble when she reached out her hand to his master.

“You, Sicum!” Kernertok said in a low tone, but one which the dog plainly understood for he dropped his head and turned away.

“Him good dog but no mak’ friend quick,” Kernertok explained as he grabbed him by the collar and drew him close to the girl. “You no like um squaw? You heap no good dog: she good squaw: friend of Kernertok: you like um, eh?”

While his master was speaking the dog was looking first at him and then at the girl. Slowly his tail began to wag and, as Kernertok finished, he took a step forward and held out one paw with a peculiar questioning whine.

“Take it, and you’ve made a friend for life,” Jack whispered.

A bit reluctantly the girl took the paw in one hand while with the other she softly patted the brown head while Sicum made manifest his delight by a vigorous wagging of his bushy tail.

“Now he’ll protect you with his life,” Jack told her.

“And you can do anything with him and he’ll never so much as growl at you,” Bob added.

“He must be wonderful,” she said her hand still caressing the dog’s head.

“He is.”

Both boys made the statement at the same time.

“But does he always have to be introduced in that way?”

“No, but he makes friends more quickly if he knows that Kernertok approves,” Jack told her.

“Can I introduce him to father and mother?”

“Sure. Didn’t I tell you that you could do anything with him?”

“All right. Come on Sicum, old boy.”

With a glance at his master, who nodded his head, the dog chased after the girl who was already near the shore end of the wharf.

“She heap nice squaw,” Kernertok said as he watched her running up the bank.

The three made their way to the little cabin where Bob more fully explained the situation to the Indian. The latter said no word until he had finished, then he merely grunted his approval of what they had done. Nothing more was seen of the dog until the supper horn called them to the big cabin. As they reached the door they heard a sharp bark and, looking back, saw Helen running toward them with the dog bounding by her side.

“Oh, he’s just splendid,” she panted as she reached the cabin. “I introduced him to the folks and he shook hands with both of them too cute for anything.”

They waited outside until Mr. and Mrs. Sleeper joined them and Bob introduced the old Indian, who gravely shook hands with each.

“Injun heap glad know friends of white boys,” he said.

Kernertok needed no introduction to Jacques as they were already well acquainted.

All through the meal Bob was wondering whether or not they would mention the scare Helen had received beneath the tree, but nothing regarding it was said and he could not help but feel that it added to the already grave suspicion against them. It seemed to him that it would be a most natural thing for her to tell them about it unless there was some reason for not doing so, and the reason, he argued, could only be that they were, in some way, mixed up with the strange events which had brought them there and which they had thus far failed to solve.

“Do you expect the ghost to walk tonight?” Mr. Sleeper asked near the end of the meal.

“I don’t know,” Bob replied. “I don’t know why he shouldn’t unless he knows that we have a dog here.”

Was it his imagination or did Mr. and Mrs. Sleeper exchange a knowing glance as he made the reply? He was not sure but it looked very much like it and he mentioned it to Jack as soon as they were alone.

“I didn’t notice it,” Jack said and then added: “Are you sure that you’re not getting so suspicious of them that your mind is acting on the bias?”

“I hope not, although, to tell the truth I’ve been thinking of that very thing and I know it’s mighty easy to misconstrue a word or an action when you’re suspicious.”

“You bet it is.”

Eleven o’clock found the four friends, for the boys always considered Sicum as one of them whenever he was present, waiting in the cabin for the show to begin, as Jack put it. They had secured from Jacques an extra cot for Kernertok although the old Indian had insisted that a rug was a good enough bed for him.

“Bet you nothing happens,” Jack said just as the clock struck the hour.

“If nothing does it means that somebody is on to our movements,” Bob declared.

“And the somebody is?”

“We won’t mention names, but I hardly see how it could be anybody else,” Bob replied and Kernertok slowly shook his head.

“Well, one thing is in our favor anyway,” Jack declared after a few minutes of silence.

“Meaning?”

“That nothing very drastic has happened as a result of the three warnings we’ve received.”

“But the end is not yet,” Bob cautioned.

“Maybe not, but I’m betting that those warnings were simply a bluff.”

“I hope so,” Bob said soberly.

The half hour struck.

“Time for the curtain to go up,” Jack said as he turned down the light.

But nothing happened. The spot did not appear and no rapping was heard. Midnight came and then the half hour struck and still not sign of the ghost was manifest.

“I told you so,” Jack yawned.

“We’ll wait another half hour,” Bob proposed.

It was a long half hour but the clock finally struck and Bob turned up the light.

“Guess we might as well hit the hay,” he declared as he threw off his coat.

“Me for that,” Jack agreed. “But you wake me up if you hear anything.”

“I will,” Bob promised as he tumbled into bed.

But if any ghost came around that night he was very quiet about it for none of them was disturbed and the sun was shining in at the window when Bob awoke.

It was Sunday and breakfast was an hour later than usual so he decided to let Jack sleep. Kernertok’s bed was empty and Sicum was not in the room.

“Guess they’ve gone out for an early morning walk,” he thought as he began to dress.

It was only six o’clock and he knew that the old Indian was an early riser so he felt no alarm at his absence.

“It’s a peach of a morning,” he said half aloud as he stepped out and softly closed the door behind him.

For a moment he stood just outside drawing into his lungs great draughts of the crisp air heavily laden with the mingled scent of spruce and pine. Then he walked slowly toward the lake. As soon as he came around the corner of the big cabin he saw Kernertok and Sicum standing on the end of the wharf gazing out over the lake.

“She heap fine body of water,” the Indian said as he joined them.

“Sure is,” Bob agreed as he bent over to pat Sicum’s head. “But I hope we haven’t dragged you and Sicum up here for nothing.”

“We catch um ghost heap soon,” Kernertok assured him.

“I hope so,” Bob returned but there was no note of assurance in his voice.

For an hour they sat on the end of the wharf and discussed the situation and then Jack joined them.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he demanded.

“Thought you needed the sleep,” Bob returned with a smile.

“Well, I got it all right.”

Jack sat down beside Sicum and began stroking his long ears, an action of which the dog thoroughly approved.

At half past seven the welcome sound of the breakfast horn broke up the conversation and they hurried to the big cabin.

“Any ghosts?” Mr. Sleeper asked as he entered a few minutes later with Mrs. Sleeper and Helen.

“Narry a ghost,” Jack declared.

“And it’s the first night they’ve missed isn’t it?”

“Yes, that is, since we’ve been here,” Bob assured him.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit strange?”

“Rather.”

The day passed quietly. In the afternoon they were all gathered on the porch of the Sleepers’ cabin and Kernertok entertained them for several hours with stories of his early life in Northern Canada. Despite his broken English the old Indian was a past master in the art of story telling and he had an abundance of material to draw from and held his listener spellbound with his vivid word pictures of life amid the deep snows and rushing streams.

“He’s wonderful,” Helen whispered to Bob as they were going to supper.

“A wonderful man and a wonderful dog,” Bob assured her.

That night was a repetition of the previous one. The camp was as well behaved as any one could desire, much to the disgust of the two boys.

“It’s disgusting, that’s what it is,” Jack declared as he rolled into bed.

“And then some,” Bob agreed from his side of the room.

But Kernertok merely grunted as he stretched his long frame on his cot.

They were up bright and early the next morning and, after a plunge in the lake, Bob suggested that they pay a visit to the cave on Mount Katahdin.

“The mountain wouldn’t come to Mahomet, you remember, so Mahomet had to go to the mountain,” he laughed. “Well, the ghost won’t seem to come to us any more so we might as well go to him.”

“But why do you think he’s there?” Jack asked.

“I don’t, but we may get a clue. Somehow I can’t help thinking that the fellow they call Jim the Penman is in some way mixed up in the ghost business.”

“Well, it’ll get rid of the day anyhow,” Jack said, and Kernertok agreed that it was a good plan.

They started immediately after breakfast, telling the Sleepers that they were going to the dam and might not be back until night. The wind was blowing strong down the lake and Kernertok and Jack made the light canoe almost fly through the water.

“Haven’t seen anything more of those fellows have you?” Bob asked the old dam tender, who met them as they landed.

“No, but I seen a light up on the mountain, ’bout ten o’clock las’ night,” he told them.

“Did it flash as though someone was signaling?” Bob asked excitedly.

“Well, it did kinder seem so. Kept it up fer as much as ten minutes mebby more, then it went out an’ I didn’t see it agin’.”

“Then they must be back,” Bob said turning to Jack and Kernertok.

“Looks like it,” Jack agreed.

A moment later and they were making their way down the deep gorge, Sicum leading the way.

“I’d give a cent to know if they were signaling to Mr. Sleeper,” Bob said to Jack as they walked side by side.

“Who else could it be?”

“Ah, there’s the rub,” Bob quoted.

“And there’s the balloon,” Jack added. “That must have been a signal and it doesn’t seem hardly possible that both parties are signaling to a third person, does it?”

“Hardly. But what possible connection can there be between them?”

“Ask me something easy,” Jack said as he wiped the sweat from his face. “Whew, but it’s hot.”

As soon as they reached the foot of the mountain they stopped for a rest and a council of war, as Jack put it.

“We’ve got to be mighty careful now,” Bob told them. “They’ll treat us rough if they get us in their power again. They’ll think we put the officers onto them and they’ll have little mercy.”

“None comes nearer to it I’d say,” Jack declared.

“We go heap quiet,” Kernertok advised with a solemn shake of his head.

“Frankly it’s my opinion that you’d better stay here and let me go up alone,” Bob proposed. “One can go with less noise than four, you know.”

“Not much,” Jack objected. “We’ll hang together in this.”

“White boy no go alone,” Kernertok shook his head and Bob did not insist, realizing that they were probably right.

It was a hot day and the climb up the mountain was hard and both boys were puffing when they reached a point only a few rods from the cave. But Kernertok was not in the least winded.

“Now we’re almost there,” Bob said as they came to a stop. “You wait here and I’ll creep up and see what’s doing. Oh, I’ll be careful and yell if they get me,” he added as he saw that Jack was about to object again.

Kernertok nodded assent and Bob crept noiselessly away. They had followed the path up the mountain but now he left it and stole around to the right so that he might get a view of the front of the shack. He made not the slightest sound as he worked his way through the thick underbrush and soon was crouching behind a bush from which he had a good view of the shack by slightly parting a couple of branches. Not a soul was in sight and the place had a deserted look which went far toward convincing him that they had not returned. Still there was the light which the old man had seen the night before and he decided to wait awhile before coming to a conclusion.

For nearly a half hour he waited and then, just as he was thinking that he might as well go back to the others, the sound of voices off to his right caught his ear. Someone was coming toward him and he squirmed farther into the clump of bushes hoping that they would pass without seeing him. He lay perfectly still hardly daring to breathe while the voices rapidly approached and soon two men passed not more than six feet from him. He was unable to see them, but he had no difficulty in recognizing Jim the Penman by his voice. He was not so sure of the identity of the other, but had little doubt that it was one of the half-breeds who had been with him at the shack. He waited until he judged that they had time to reach the shack and then he began slowly to back out. But as it happened he came out of the clump much quicker than he had intended. He had hardly started when his feet were grabbed by a powerful pair of hands and he was violently jerked out. So quickly was it done that he had no time to shout before a huge hand was pressed over his mouth while another seized him by the throat.

“You mak’ der noise an’ I keel you,” a voice hissed in his ear.

He knew that he was no match for the powerful giant and that the latter was quite capable of carrying out his threat. So he kept still and the man, removing his hand from his throat, seized him by the collar and yanked him to his feet.

“You come ’long an’ mak’ no sound,” he ordered as he started for the shack keeping a firm hold on the boy’s collar.

Bob knew that there was nothing to do but obey, so he made no resistance and in a moment they were at the door of the shack which opened just as they reached it and Jim the Penman, followed by the other breed, came out.

“So you have paid us another visit, eh,” Jim sneered. “Well, we’ll see that you don’t get away so easily this time. Tie him up good and strong,” he ordered.

But before the breed could carry out the order a sudden interruption intervened.

“Hands up.”

The order came in stern tones and, as they turned, their eyes met a sight which caused Bob’s heart to jump with joy. Standing just at the edge of the woods were five men and each held a Winchester which was pointing directly at them.

Without a word the hands of the three men shot into the air and Bob, thinking he might not be recognized, did the same.

“I didn’t mean you, Bob,” the sheriff said as he came forward, and Bob gladly lowered his hands.

“You came just in time, sir,” he said.

“And I’m mighty glad of it. Keep ’em covered, boys, while I frisk ’em,” he ordered.

Quickly he removed an automatic from a pocket of each of the men and then, satisfied that they had no more weapons upon them, he told them that they could lower their hands.

“But no funny business,” he warned them.

“Well, Jim, you’ve led me a pretty long chase but I’ve got you at last,” the detective said as he snapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists.

“It would seem so just now,” the man smiled.

In another minute the two breeds were handcuffed and Bob could not repress a sight of relief.

“You made your big mistake when you flashed that light last night,” the detective said turning to the man called Jim. “Friend of mine saw it and phoned me.”

“I think I know who it was,” the man returned. “Some day I may be able to thank him.”

“Not for a good many years, I reckon,” the detective said dryly. “You’ll be the state’s star boarder for some time to come.”

“Maybe, but I’ve seen sicker cats than this get well,” the man smiled.

Leaving the three deputies to guard the prisoners, the sheriff accompanied by the detective and Bob made a search of the shack and cave. Bob showed them the trap door in the corner and, after they had descended and squeezed through into the second chamber, he showed them how he and Jack had made their escape.

“But there must be another room or something of the sort here,” the detective insisted when they had returned to the upper cave. “They must have some food here and I haven’t seen a sign of it.”

For some time they searched going over every foot of the walls and floor and were about to give it up when Bob discovered the secret. He was on the side of the cave opposite the door which opened into the shack and suddenly his quick eye caught sight of a crack in the rock. Playing his flash up and down on the wall he could trace it from the floor to a point about even with the top of his head. Then it turned sharply at right angles. It was such a small crack that it was little wonder that it had eluded him when he had searched the cave before.

“I think I’ve found something,” he called and the others hastened to his side.

“See that crack?” he asked eagerly.

“Yes, but—”

“Wait a minute,” Bob interrupted as he darted across the cave and passed through the door into the shack.

He was back in a minute with a screw driver which he remembered to have seen in the shack. This he inserted in a place, he had noticed, about two feet from the floor and carefully using it as a pry, he gave a cry of satisfaction as a small door swung open, a door so cunningly constructed and closely fitted that probably not one man in a dozen would ever have found it. It was made of boards, the side facing the cave being covered with thin slabs of rock so skillfully cemented together and to the door that it was practically impossible to distinguish between it and the rest of the wall.

The door opened into a large room which was furnished with several cots and chairs as well as a cook stove and the necessary cooking utensils. A good supply of food was stored in a closet in one corner.

“I knew there must be some place,” the detective declared as he stood in the middle of the room and looked about.

“But how in thunder did he make that door?” the sheriff asked.

“Maybe he didn’t,” the detective returned. “Looks to me as though that door was made some years ago. But how he found out about it beats me.”

Just then a low cry from one of the deputies attracted their attention and, hastening to his side, they found him gazing with wide staring eyes at a suit-case which lay open on the floor at his feet. It was no wonder he had uttered the cry of astonishment for the case was filled with piles of new ten-dollar bills.

“Gosh, I didn’t know there was that much money in the world,” the man gasped. “I reckon as how there must be close on ter a billion dollars there.”

“Hardly that much,” the detective laughed as he picked up one of the bundles. “There’s quite a lot of it though, but the trouble is it isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.”

“What you mean, it ain’t worth nothin’?”

“Phony. Green goods.”

“You mean it’s counterfeit?”

“Exactly.”

“But it looks good ter me,” the man insisted picking up another of the bundles.

“Of course it does,” the detective laughed. “It has to look mighty good to get by these days.”

They spent a few more minutes searching the room but nothing more of consequence was found and the detective declared that they might as well be on their way back.

“I won’t feel easy till I get them fellows behind the bars,” he declared as he picked up the suit-case and led the way out through the cave.

“That room explains how he got away that time we had him tied up,” Bob thought. “Those others must have been in there all the time.”

As they came out into the open the two half breeds glared at the suit-case with ill-concealed rage, but the leader only smiled as though it was a matter of no importance.

“Don’t suppose you’d tell me how you found the door leading into that room, Jim,” the detective said as he stood in front of the man.

“And I guess you’re right in your supposition,” he smiled.

“All right, it doesn’t matter. We’ve got the goods and that’s the main thing.”

On the way down the mountain they picked up Jack and Kernertok and they were much surprised as well as gratified when they learned how the affair had turned out.

It was nearly noon when they reached the dam and the sheriff insisted that the boys and Kernertok help them eat the bountiful lunch which he had brought with him. Soon after the men, together with their prisoners, departed in the two cars in which they had made the trip up and, after bidding them good-bye the four friends started on their way up the lake.

“Well, that chapter is closed so far as we’re concerned,” Jack declared.

“And mighty satisfactorily,” Bob added.

“The question now is whether the ghost has gone with them,” Jack said.

“That’s what,” Bob agreed.

“How you betting?”

“That it has. Take me?”

“Nope. That’s my bet too.”

They were in no hurry to get back and took it easy so that it was nearly three o’clock when they reached the camp. There was no one on the wharf and no one in sight about the camp as they walked slowly up the bank toward the big cabin.

“Reminds me of the deserted village,” Bob laughed.

“It doesn’t look exactly lively,” Jack agreed.

As they reached the front of the cabin the door opened and Jacques stepped out.

“Where’s all the folks?” Bob asked.

“Gone,” the man replied.

“Gone! Gone where?”

“I dunno. Dey had me tak’ ’em down to dam little while after you go.”

“But didn’t they say where or why they were going?” Bob asked.

“Dey say nottin’, only dat they go.”

“Did they take their stuff with them?”

“Oui, dey tak’ it all. Dey no come back.”

“I reckon you’re right, but it beats me,” Bob declared as he led the way to their cabin. “What do you make of it, Jack?” he asked as soon as they had closed the door behind them.

“Why, that they had something to do with that other gang. What do you think?”

“Looks as though you were right, but how could that fellow signal to them from the mountain? You can’t see it from here.”

“See it from hill over there,” Kernertok said.

“That’s so,” Bob declared. “I never thought of that. It’s only a little way to the top from here and now I think of it, Mr. Sleeper wasn’t with us after nine o’clock last night, you remember.”

“But just what do you suppose was the connection between them?”

“It’s no use guessing. Maybe we’ll know sometime.”

“Well, their going makes it all the more likely that we’ve seen the last of the ghost.”

“I suppose so,” Bob agreed.

“You don’t seem much pleased at the prospect,” Jack told him.

“Well, I can’t help feeling that we haven’t had much to do with it.”

“That’s so,” Jack agreed.

“I suppose we might as well go to bed.”

It was shortly after eleven o’clock and Jack turned down the light as he made the statement.

“We’ll wait till twelve,” Bob yawned.

The minutes passed slowly. They were all, with the possible exception of Kernertok and Sicum, tired after their long tramp and both Bob and Jack were nearly asleep in their chairs, when the half hour struck. But a moment after they were wide awake enough, for the spot had appeared on the wall. At the same time raps were heard from behind the head of Bob’s bed.

“Come on,” Bob cried as he leaped from his chair.

Kernertok already had snapped a long leash to Sicum’s collar and was the first out of the cabin.

“Go find um,” he ordered.

There was no sign of the spot on the wall as Bob, the last to leave the room, turned his head for a glance back.

The dog, as though understanding exactly what was expected of him, put his nose to the ground and made a complete circle of the cabin. This he repeated again and again, each time widening the circle until he was at the edge of the woods. But he had failed to pick up the scent and announced the failure by a low whine.

“Try um in woods,” his master ordered.

The dog led the way about thirty feet into the forest and then started off to the right. He had gone but a few yards, however, when he uttered a low deep growl.

“He got um,” the Indian grunted. “Go get um, Sicum.”

With a sharp bark of eagerness the dog bounded off in the direction of the hill only a few rods distant and Kernertok had his hands full holding on to the leash. The boys followed close behind using their flash light freely.

Straight up over the hill the dog led them without a pause and down the other side. A little way from the foot of the hill they struck a small brook and the dog stopped with a whine.

“He take to water,” Kernertok explained. “No smell um.”

They crossed to the other side and Kernertok ordered the dog to go up stream. They pressed on for the better part of a half mile but Sicum failed to again pick up the trail.

“Maybe he went down stream,” Bob suggested as they stopped for a short rest.

“We go back, try um down brook?”

“Do whatever you think best.”

“We try um little more,” the Indian decided after a short pause.

It was fortunate that he did so for in less than five minutes the dog had regained the scent.

“Good dog,” Bob declared as the low growl announced his success.

Through the thick woods the dog led them, tugging at the leash as though fearful that his quarry would escape him. At times the way led through thickets where they had to literally force their way while, in other places it was more open and they were enabled to make good progress.

“Hope he gets there soon,” Jack panted.

“Same here,” Bob agreed. “My legs are beginning to get tired.”

It must have been nearly two hours from the time they started and Bob judged that they had covered fully five miles when they reached the end of the hunt. Sicum stopped in front of what looked like a huge rock but the light from the flash showed that it was a small hill. The dog was sniffing at an opening, in the side of the hill, which looked to be barely large enough for a man to crawl into.

“He’s got a cave in that hill,” Bob announced.

“Looks like it,” Jack agreed.

“Him there,” Kernertok grunted.

“Then the next thing’s to get him out,” Jack proposed.

“Suppose you invite him,” Bob suggested.

“I will. Hello, in there. You might as well come out. We’ve got you trapped,” he shouted.

There was no reply and, after waiting a moment Bob said:

“He or it doesn’t seem much inclined to accept your invitation. Guess I’ll have to go in after him.”

“Yes you will, not.”

“If not why not?”

“Because it’s too risky, that’s why.”

“Injun go in,” Kernertok grunted getting down on his hands and knees.

“Nothing doing,” Bob declared sharply catching him by the shoulder.

They had been speaking in whispers but now Bob said in a loud voice:

“Let’s go back and come and dig him out in the morning when we can see.”

“I guess that’ll be the best way,” Jack agreed quick to grasp his brother’s plan.

In a low whisper Bob explained his idea to the Indian who grunted a low assent. But Sicum did not so readily fall in with the plan and it took the Indian some time to convince him that he knew what was best. The dog knew that his quarry was in that hole and he could not understand why he should leave it. But finally he allowed his master to lead him off into the woods but not without many a backward look and many a low protesting whine. It was a new experience to him, this giving up and it was plain that he did not approve of it.

“Never mind, old fellow, we’ll get him,” Bob said stroking the gray head.

They made much noise as they left but, after going only a short distance they crept softly back until they were only a few feet away from the hole, where they crouched behind a thick clump of bushes. Sicum, as though realizing that, after all, the game was not up, had ceased his whining and seemed content.

“We’ll probably have to wait till day light,” Bob whispered, “so I’ll watch here and you can get back a bit and get some sleep.”

“What’s the matter with you getting some sleep?” Jack asked.

“I spoke first.”

“Injun watch. Him no sleepy. White boys go get sleep.”

They refused at first but finally, seeing that the old Indian really wished them to consent, they yielded, but only after he had promised to call them in two hours.

They crept back a few yards and found a soft spot beneath the limbs of a huge pine and in less than a minute both were fast asleep. It seemed to Bob that he had just closed his eyes when he was awakened by a touch on his arm.

“Two hours gone,” Kernertok whispered.

“All right,” he answered sleepily, “but don’t wake Jack. There’s no need of both of us being awake.”

Kernertok grunted approval and threw himself on the ground while Bob crept forward until he was lying behind the bush. It was not absolutely dark for the sky was filled with stars although there was no moon. He could barely make out the outline of the hill as he peered through the bush. Slowly the minutes passed and he found it hard work to keep awake. But he knew that it would be only a little more than an hour to dawn and he resolutely fought off the desire to sleep. Once he thought he heard a movement near the cave but, although he strained his eyes, he could see nothing suspicious and he concluded that he had been mistaken. Of course he did not dare to use his flash light.

In spite of his resolve to keep awake he must have dozed off for suddenly he realized that the darkness had nearly gone.

“I’m a good one to put on watch,” he thought thoroughly angered at himself.

Although it was not yet fully light he could see the hole in the hill plainly enough and, all desire for sleep now gone, he watched eagerly.

“If he’s got away I’ll never forgive myself,” he thought.

Slowly the light increased until a beam of sunlight touched the top of the hill. He was about to creep back and awake the others when a sound caught his ears and, in another moment, he saw a face framed in the hole. It was not a wicked face but rather grotesque. The nose was long and humped sharply while the eyes were small and set so closely together that the nose seemed crowded between them. The mouth was enormous and the skin looked more like leather than skin.

Although the eyes were small they looked strangely keen and he drew back fearing that they would penetrate his hiding place. After a long glance around the owner of the eyes slowly drew his body out and finally stood in front of the opening. He was a small man, almost a dwarf in fact and Bob could hardly repress a desire to laugh. His arms, abnormally long, hung well below his knees and his legs were so thin that it seemed impossible that they were strong enough to support the body. But what impressed the boy most of all were the massive shoulders, all out of proportion to the rest of his body. He was dressed in an old black sweater torn in many places and a pair of corduroy trousers which reached only to the knees. His feet were bare.

“What a wild man of Borneo he’d make,” Bob thought. “But I’d sure hate to tackle him. I’ll bet he’s stronger than an ox.”

For several minutes the strange creature stood looking about and then, to the consternation of the boy, he darted directly toward him. So sudden was the movement that before Bob had time to even rise the creature was upon him. He tried to defend himself but he quickly realized that his estimate of his strength was far too low. Those arms, though ridiculously thin, were like hands of steel and one of them wrapped around him held him helpless while the other hand sought his throat. But before the long fingers could close about it he had let out a wild shout for help.

Fortunately for him help was close at hand. The huge hand had closed on his wind pipe and everything was beginning to go black when, with a loud shout of encouragement, Jack landed fairly on the diminutive monster’s back and forced him to break his hold. But so great was the strength of the dwarf that it is doubtful if they could have overcome him without Kernertok’s help for he fought with a fury such as they had never encountered. Those long arms seemed absolutely tireless and their strength almost superhuman, and for a time he threw them about as though they were children. But at last the exertion began to tell on him and suddenly, as though realizing that his was a losing fight, he sank down on the ground and, burying his face in his hands, began to whimper for all the world like a whipped dog.

Even Kernertok was panting as the battle ended and both boys were gasping for breath. Bob had two long scratches on one cheek and one of Jack’s eyes was rapidly closing, while their clothes were torn in many places.

“Whew!” Jack gasped holding one hand over his swollen eye. “What is it, a man or a cyclone?”

“Anyhow, he’s some scrapper,” Bob panted.

“Him heap big little fighter,” Kernertok added.

“You said something,” Jack agreed.

The dwarf was still whining and now Bob went close to him and spoke kindly.

“We are not going to hurt you if you behave yourself.”

At the sound of his voice the dwarf glanced timidly up at him.

“Me crazy Dan: me no hurt nobody,” he whined.

“What would have happened to us if he had been in an angry mood?” Jack grinned as he heard the words.

“All right, Dan, suppose you stop whining and we’ll talk it over,” Bob said as he took hold of the dwarf’s shoulder and pulled him up to a sitting position. “There that’s better.”

“Who you?” the man asked.

“We’ll be your friends if you’ll let us.”

“Crazy Dan no got friend.”

“Then it’s time you had some,” Bob assured him kindly.

“What for you hunt after old Dan, eh?”

“Well, you see, it’s like this,” Bob began. “There’s been a lot of things happening over at the camp and we’ve been trying to find out who was at the bottom of it. You understand?”

“Me know. Me did it.”

“But why? What did you want to scare away all the people who came there for?”

For a moment the dwarf hesitated.

“They catch all the fish out the lake. Be no more left for Dan,” he said finally.

“That’s all bosh,” Jack broke in but Bob hushed him.

“But don’t you know that they breed faster than they’re caught out?” he asked.

Dan shook his head.

“They catch um fast,” he muttered.

“Do you live in that hole?” he asked changing the subject and pointing to the hill.

The dwarf nodded his head.

“In the winter time too?”

Again he nodded assent.

“I should think you’d freeze,” Bob said.

“Got good stove in dar. Keep plenty warm.”

“Well, Dan, we don’t want to do anything to harm you but that camp belongs to a friend of ours and he’s lost a lot of money because you scared away all his guests and I guess it’s up to us to take you to jail unless you promise that you won’t do it any more. How about it?”

The dwarf’s eyes were filled with terror as he heard Bob mention the jail.

“Dan be good you let him be,” he promised eagerly.

“You’re sure?”

“Hope die.”

“All right then, we’ll give you a chance but mind, if there’s any more of that ghost business, you’ll go to jail,” Bob assured him.

“No more,” Dan reiterated.

“Now, Dan,” Bob said after a moment’s pause, “there’s two or three things I want you to explain. How about that spot of light? How did you manage it?”

For a moment the dwarf hesitated as though undecided whether to tell or to refuse, but finally he drew from his pocket a burning lens about two inches across.

“It easy wid dis and a dark lantern,” he said with a broad grin.

“Of course,” Bob agreed. “But how about the raps?”

“Dan throw stones so dey hit one place. Throw dem mighty fast.”

“I’ll say you must have,” Jack broke in.

“And how did it happen that you never got caught in the traps we set?” Bob asked next.

A smile lighted up the face of the dwarf as he replied.

“Dan too smart,” he chuckled.

“But we fixed them so that no one could tell they were there,” Bob insisted.

“You good trap setter, but Dan see you set ’em.”

“You did?”

“Dan hide up in big pine tree, see you set ’em all.”

“Well, Dan, you’re smart, mighty smart, but remember your promise,” Bob told him as he turned to the others. “Guess we might as well be getting back to camp unless you want to ask some more questions.”

They all shook hands with the dwarf who now seemed very friendly and, after again reminding him of his promise to be good, started off through the woods, Sicum leading the way.

“What do you think of him?” Bob asked as soon as they were out of hearing.

“I think he’s a slick one all right, but he’s no more crazy than I am,” Jack replied and Kernertok grunted assent.

“My idea exactly,” Bob agreed. “I believe that part was all assumed, but what was his real reason then?”

“Don’t know but I’ll bet that, whatever it is, he’ll do no more ghost business.”

“I think you’re right,” Bob agreed as they started on again.

“And now, everything is cleared up with one exception,” Jack said as he followed close behind.

“And that is—”

“The Sleepers,” Jack finished.

“Exactly. And the chances are we’ll never know, but it really doesn’t matter so far as we’re concerned, now that they’ve gone.”

The breakfast horn sounded just as they reached the edge of the clearing and never had it seemed more welcome for they were all very hungry.

“Shall we tell Jacques?” Bob asked as they were washing.

“Might’s well, I guess. Perhaps he knows something about the fellow. Anyhow I don’t see how it can do any harm.”

The meal was over before they broached the subject as they were too busy stowing away the food Jacques had provided, but as they pushed back their chairs, Bob asked:

“By the way, Jacques, do you know anybody around here called Crazy Dan?”

“Oui, me know him, but heem no crazy. Heem mak’ folks tink so,” Jacques replied after a moment’s pause. “You see heem?”

“Yes, we’ve seen him and what’s more, we’ve settled this ghost business, that is, I guess we have.” And he told him all about their adventure of the night.

Jacques was plainly surprised and shook his head as though doubtful but finally he agreed that Dan must have been guilty.

“I allys know heem ver’ sharp, but no thot heem so sharp lik’ dat.”

Just then a loud hail was heard from out on the lake.

“Someone’s coming,” Bob cried as he rushed for the door closely followed by Jack.

As they came out onto the porch they saw a canoe with two men in it headed for the wharf and almost in.

“It’s Rex,” Jack yelled and started on the run for the wharf.

“And it’s Mr. Stokes with him,” Bob added close at his heels.

They reached the end of the wharf just as the canoe touched and in another instant they were all shaking hands.

“How, in the world, did you get up here at this time of day?” Bob asked as soon as the first greetings were over.

“We got up as far as the dam late last night and the man there put us up over night. We would have been up in time to have got here for supper but the fellow who drove us up from Greenville had engine trouble and it was nearly eleven o’clock when we got to the dam,” Rex explained.

“Well, come along and get breakfast. I guess Jacques can scare up something. We’ve just finished,” Bob said as he led the way.

Nothing was said about business until they had eaten, then Rex said:

“And how’s the ghost business?”

“If you had asked that question yesterday at this time I’d have been obliged to reply, about the same, thanks. But now, thank goodness, I can say there ain’t no such animal any more, if you’ll excuse the grammar,” Bob laughed.

“You mean that you’ve solved the mystery?” Mr. Stokes asked eagerly.

“I think so,” Bob replied and, for the next half hour, he was busy telling them all about their adventures.

“Good boys,” Mr. Stokes declared when the story was finished. “Where can I get a phone? I was going to have one put in here this summer.”

“There’s none nearer than the dam, I’m afraid,” Bob told him.

“Then I’ll have to get down there sometime during the day and send a wire to my secretary. You see,” he explained, “I was so sure that you were going to succeed that I had a lot of letters written to the people who have been here, and they are on my desk all ready to mail. I’ll bet we’ll have a crowd up here before the summer is over.”

“Suppose you let Jack and me take the message down,” Bob proposed, but Mr. Stokes declared that there was no reason why they shouldn’t all go down in the motor boat.

“I’m mighty glad that Jacques wasn’t mixed up in it,” he whispered to Bob a little later when they were ready to start.

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