Then of a sudden he remembered that he had dropped his rifle when he was struck down in the basement, and he wanted to return for it at once. Bruce objected at first, but Frank was determined, and he finally won.

They retraced their steps and boldly entered the building. Bruce followed Merriwell down the stairs into the basement, holding his revolver ready for use while Frank lighted matches. Then they searched for the rifle, which Frank knew he held in his hand at the moment when he was struck down.

They could not find it, for it was not in the basement, nor was it anywhere in the building.

The boys quickly decided that the rifle had been removed by human hands, but the mystery was just as deep.

Leaving the building, they did not immediately return to the White Wings, but made their way past the little cove, through the stunted cedars and over the rocks to a position where they could look down upon the boat that was lying close to the island shore.

As Frank had surmised, it was the lap-streak sailboat belonging to the cock-eyed man. There was no one in or around it.

"Bruce," said Merry, "I have a proposal to make."

"Make it," grunted Browning.

"I have an idea that the person who owns that boat is concerned in the mysterious doings on this island."

"Well?"

"I am going to watch for him."

"When?"

"Now."

"You mean that you are not going back to the yacht?"

"Not right away."

"Then I shall stay with you."

"That will interfere with my plan."

"How?"

"If we stay away from the yacht very long it is certain to alarm the girls."

"It might."

"I want you to go back and tell them I have discovered signs of game here and have stayed to see if I can't bag it. You need not say what sort of game. Then I want you to get Hodge and bring him with you, taking three of the guns and sufficient ammunition. As you will be going out for game, that will create no alarm. Leave Diamond and Dunnerwust to guard the girls and Miss Gale. I will remain here till you return, and you might bring me something for lunch. Tell them it is likely to take some time to bag our game, and caution them not to be alarmed if we do not return before nightfall."

"But I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone," protested the big Yale man. "There is no telling what may happen."

Frank laughed softly.

"Don't worry about me," he said. "I shall not venture into the old boarding house alone, and it is not likely I'll not be able to defend myself here on open ground."

Bruce hesitated.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked.

"All right."

"Strong?"

"As ever."

"That crack on the head——"

"Oh, I am all over that now. Go on, old man, and don't worry about me. You know that, as a rule, Frank Merriwell is able to take care of himself."

"That is a fact," nodded Browning. "But you are not armed. Here, you must take this revolver."

He held the weapon out to Merry.

"But then you will not have a weapon."

"I am all right," declared Bruce. "I can handle two or three ordinary fellows without a gun."

Fully aware of the giant's extraordinary strength, Frank knew he spoke the truth, and so he accepted the revolver.

"Now I have an idea," said Merriwell, "that you had better not return to the yacht by the path."

"Why not?"

"It is likely that path is watched, and it may be well enough not to let the watchers know one of us has remained here. If they think we are gone, they may betray themselves by their movements.

"How am I to go back, then?"

"Go round the island the other way. You can keep in this fringe of woods the most of the time, so that you will not be seen. It may be a bit harder traveling, but I fancy it is the best thing to do."

"All right. Take care of yourself, Merriwell. Keep your eyes open, and do not get another crack on the head."

"Don't worry about that. Take your time."

So Bruce started off, leaving Frank there where he could watch the boat.

Not until Browning had disappeared and Frank was quite alone did he realize the loneliness of the place. The water washing against the rocky shore made the only sound to be heard, unless it was the occasional cry of a wheeling gull.

The tide was going out, and already the black ledges were rising out of the water in the distance. Those were called "half-tide ledges" by the fishermen. There were other black rocks which rose barren and bleak above the highest tides. Near those ledges at certain seasons of the year sportsmen set their "tollers," or decoys, and crouching in nooks of the rocks, fired hundreds of shots at the sea birds lured to their doom by the wooden representations of their mates.

Merriwell found a place where he could sit in a sheltered spot and watch the sailboat, at the same time having a good view of the bay and the islands and ledges.

As he sat there Frank meditated on the mystery of the island. He was fully convinced that there was some reason why certain human beings desired to frighten all others away from the place. That the man from Boston had been murdered and buried on that island was quite probable. Perhaps he had been murdered for booty; perhaps he had discovered the secret of the island, and his death had been accomplished in order to seal his lips. In the latter case there must be some powerful reason why the desperadoes who slew him did not wish the secret revealed to the world.

These thoughts led Merry to the conclusion that some criminal business was carried on upon that island. He was well aware that he was taking desperate chances in trying to find out what sort of business it was, but the mystery lured him on, and the very fact that there was danger lent a fascination to the adventure.

How long he sat there thinking thus he did not know, but at last he was startled by a sound near at hand. He turned quickly and what he saw brought him to his feet with a bound.

Peering from the bushes was the most horrible face he had ever looked upon. It was twisted and contorted in a frightful manner, the lips were drawn back from long, yellow fangs, the eyes seemed to glare like coals of fire, and about these frightful features tumbled a mass of tangled hair.

"The monster!"

That thought flashed into Frank's mind. He had no doubt but he was face to face with the creature that had frightened the simple fishermen from the island.

For some moments Frank stood there, staring at that horrible face. Then a clawlike hand came out through the bushes and seemed to reach toward him, while a howl that was blood-curdling came from the creature's lips.

That sound was the same that had frightened the fishermen into running for their lives, but, instead of running, Frank made a dash for the creature, Browning's revolver grasped in his hand.

It was a most astonishing move on the part of the boy. For a moment the monster of the island remained motionless, and then that horrible face disappeared.

With a leap, Frank plunged straight into the bushes, ready to grapple with the thing.

He found nothing! It had vanished!

Swaying bushes close at hand guided him, and he scarcely paused an instant. Straight forward he rushed, ready for the encounter at any instant.

He caught a glimpse of something plunging through the bushes, and he followed fearlessly.

A moment later he came out to open ground, and ahead of him he saw a misshapen figure running with wonderful speed toward the head of the cove.

Perhaps for the first time since the creature had been seen on the island the order of things had changed and it was the pursued instead of the pursuer.

"Stop!" shouted Frank.

The monster looked back over a twisted shoulder, and snarled like a wild animal, but ran faster than ever.

"Stop, or I shall shoot!"

Frank flourished the revolver, running as hard as he could in pursuit.

The command was not obeyed.

In an attempt to frighten the creature into obeying, Frank fired two shots into the air.

Still the thing ran on.

"Well, I see I must catch him," muttered Merriwell.

He set his teeth and made wonderful speed over the uneven ground. Never in any college sprinting match had he made such speed. He was determined to overtake that hideous thing and solve the mystery of the island.

Frank soon saw he was gaining. The creature looked back and saw the same, whereupon it seemed to increase its efforts.

But, although the monster was a swift runner, it could not get away from Merriwell. The cove was passed, and the race continued up the rise toward the big building above.

Frank was drawing nearer and nearer. He reached out a hand to grasp the shoulder of the hunchback, for there was a large hump on the back of the fugitive.

At that moment the panting thing whirled and grappled with him suddenly.

Frank was taken by surprise by the movement, and in a twinkling he was flung to his knees. The monster snarled with satisfaction and sought to clutch his throat with those clawlike hands.

Summoning all his strength, Merriwell fought his way to his feet and obtained a better hold on the thing, keeping those twisted fingers away from his throat.

Then there was a fierce struggle for the mastery. During that struggle the tushes in the mouth of the being with whom Frank was battling suddenly fell out and dropped to the ground.

They were false teeth, made to look as hideous as possible.

And now Merry could see that the man's face was made up to appear twisted and deformed, and, a moment after the teeth fell out, the shaggy wig of tangled hair was torn away, showing that also was false and a part of the make-up.

Now Merriwell recognized the man before him.

It was the hunchback of Green's Landing—Put Wiley!

"Really, Mr. Wiley, this is quite a surprise!" exclaimed Frank, triumphantly. "You had a splendid make-up, but the cat is out of the bag now."

"Curse ye!" grated the hunchback. "You'll pay for this with your life!"

"Oh, I don't know!"

"I do."

Wiley's voice did not utter these two words; they were spoken by another person, and Frank was clutched from behind. Strong hands closed about his neck, and hard fingers crushed into his windpipe, so that his breath was shut off in a moment.

Frank could not withstand this onset, he was forced to his knees. Being unable to breathe, he tried to tear those crushing fingers away, but the effort was in vain. He had dropped the revolver, and it was beyond his reach.

He knew at that moment that he was in the clutch of the ruffians who had murdered the man from Boston, and he had no doubt but a like fate was meant for him. Still he was powerless to save himself, for he was given no show. Things turned black and began to whirl around him, bombs seemed bursting in his head, bells were ringing in his ears, and then—nothingness!

When Frank recovered consciousness he felt as if his windpipe had been crushed, and he seemed numb and helpless in every limb. He realized immediately that he was being roughly handled, and he heard a harsh voice say:

"That's all right. He can't git erway. We can't waste any more time."

He opened his eyes and looked up into the face of the speaker—the cock-eyed man!

Put Wiley, the hunchback, was there, too.

"Hello!" growled the man with the crooked eye. "He's come round. I'm glad on it, fer I want him ter know jest what his nosin' foolishness has done fer him."

Frank tried to speak, but he could not utter more than a wheezing whisper. The hunchback raised a foot, as if to bring it down on the face of the helpless lad, for Frank was bound hands and feet, but the other man thrust him aside, growling:

"Whut's the use! He'll be dead in five minutes. Don't kick ther poor fool."

Then Frank realized that he was bound across the track of the old railroad that ran from the sheds to the quarry. The look that came to the face of the helpless lad seemed to tell the cock-eyed man that he understood the situation.

"You've made a fool of yerself," declared the man, unpityingly. "You was too nosy. Inquisitive critters alwus git inter trouble. The Boston man was too fresh, and he's planted. You saw his grave."

Strangely enough, at that moment the helpless boy asked a queer question:

"Where were you when you made that ghostly whisper?" he managed to huskily inquire.

"I dunno what good it'll do to ye ter know," was the answer. "You'll be dead right away. Mebbe one of us was hid in a holler tree near ye."

"What do you mean to do with me?"

"Waal, we've tied ye here acrost ther rails. Up there in the quarry is a car loaded with granite. It won't take much ter send it scootin' down the track, and it will cut you clean in two. You'll have time enough to think whut a fool ye was and say yer prayers while we are startin' ther car, but you'd better begin now. Good-by."

Then the two murderous wretches hurried up the track and quickly disappeared.

Frank tried to cry for aid, but he could not make a sound that could be heard ten rods away. He twisted and squirmed in a vain effort to free himself. And then he fell to listening, listening, listening.

It was not long before he heard the sound which he dreaded. There was a distant rumble, a faint jarring of the rails.

The car had started down the incline!

"God help me!"

The rumbling sound grew louder and louder. The car was gathering speed as it came on.

"Frank—Frank Merriwell!"

He heard Browning call near at hand, and now he made a mighty effort and answered:

"Here! Quick! Help!"

The big Yale man came rushing to the track, followed by Hodge, just as the car loaded with granite came into view.

Instantly Bruce realized the peril of the lad who was bound to the rails, and he saw there was no time to cut the ropes and set Frank free.

With a hoarse shout he leaped forward, catching up a stout stick of timber in an instant. One end of the timber he thrust under the rails of the track, and then he lifted on the other end with all his wonderful strength.

The track was old, the ties were rotten, and the spikes gave way. The rail was pried aside in a moment. Then Bruce went at the other and tore that up.

The car was upon him. He made a great leap backward and got off the track barely in time.

Then, an instant later, the car, loaded with granite, left the rails and shot down the bank, spilling the slabs of rock and plunged with a splash into the water, disappearing from view.

Frank was saved!

* * * * *

It was an hour later when Merriwell, Browning and Hodge returned to the White Wings. With the exception of a slight hoarseness, Frank could speak as well as ever, although his throat was sore and lame.

The boys had not returned to the yacht till they were certain the hunchback and the cock-eyed man had left the island, for the lap-streak boat was seen bound up the bay under full sail.

Browning was fierce for revenge. Merriwell did not say much, but deep down in his heart he was determined to punish the ruffians who had so nearly ended his existence. He cautioned the boys not to let the girls or Miss Gale know anything of the adventures on the island.

"We will land them at Green's Landing," he said, "and then I am coming back to this island. The mystery of this place is not yet solved. Why are those two men trying to frighten everybody away from here? I want to know that, and I mean to know it."

On reaching the yacht Jack Diamond was found paying every attention to Paula Benjamin, and it was plain that there was no longer a misunderstanding between them.

The Virginian shot Browning a glance of triumph, in which was also a warning.

But Bruce scarce gave Jack or Paula a thought, for other matters were on his mind then. He was eager and anxious to get rid of the girls and their chaperon in order that the party might return to Devil Island and seek to solve the deep mystery of the place and punish the wretches who had tried to end Frank's life.



CHAPTER XXI.

SETTLING A POINT.

"Now, fellows," said Frank Merriwell, as he faced his four "shipmates" in the cabin of his yacht, White Wings, which was riding at anchor in the harbor at Green's Landing, "I have called you together for a council of war."

"I'm tired," grunted Bruce Browning. "Can't I rest in my bunk while the powwow is going on?"

"No," came firmly from Frank, "this is a matter of business, and it won't hurt you to sit up a while."

"Oh, get a brace on!" exclaimed Diamond, flinging the words at the big Yale man. "Act as if you had some life in you, old fellow."

The manner in which the words were spoken made the usually polite Virginian seem quite unlike himself, but Bruce simply grinned, observing:

"You shouldn't hold a grudge because I flirted a little with Miss Benjamin, Diamond; you got a lead on me while Merriwell and I were investigating on Devil Island, and won her back, all right. Don't be sour over it."

The Southerner sprang up, his eyes flashing:

"Mr. Browning," he said, hotly, "I warn you not to speak lightly of Miss Benjamin! You seem to take delight in mentioning her in connection with every little occurrence, and it is getting tiresome. There is a limit!"

"Huah!" grunted the giant. "Touchy, mighty touchy. First thing I know he'll be challenging me to a duel."

"It would be useless to challenge you!" flashed Jack. "You Northerners are too cold blooded to fight."

"Well, now, this will do!" cut in Merry, promptly rising to his feet. "I won't have it on board my yacht."

"Then I suppose we can go on shore and fight it out," said Jack, sourly.

"If you want to make fools of yourselves—yes."

"You are very plain spoken, Mr. Merriwell."

"It is necessary at times, Diamond. Hold your temper in check, old man, and don't talk about Northerners and Southerners. There is no North, no South. The time is past. When you came to Yale you were full of freakish notions about the North and the South, but I fancied you had been pretty well cured of that. I see it will crop out occasionally, though."

To this Diamond made no retort, but he looked thoroughly angry. With another fellow Frank would have laughed him out of the mood, but he knew it would not do to try that on the Virginian, for Jack could not endure a bit of ridicule.

However, Merry talked quietly, and soon he could see he was pouring oil on the troubled waters, for the look of anger was leaving Diamond's face, and Browning had assumed a lounging attitude.

"This is no time for hard feelings between any of us," said Frank. "As I said a few minutes ago, I have called you together for a council of war."

"Vot did I mean ven you said dot?" asked Hans Dunnerwust. "Berhaps you don'd understood me as vell as I might. Vot for haf dot gouncil uf var peen caldt?"

"Yes," said Bart Hodge, "just what are you driving at, Merriwell?"

"Fellows, we have struck a mystery."

"I thought you had solved the mystery of the monster of Devil Island."

"I solved the mystery of the monster's identity and discovered the creature was the hunchback, Put Wiley, in disguise."

"But he came near ending your career."

"With the aid of the cock-eyed man, whose name, I have learned, since returning to Green's Landing, is Dan Hicks. I could have handled Wiley alone, but Hicks came to his aid and caught me by the throat, grasping me from behind. Together they knocked me out and tied me to the old railroad on the island. But for Browning's wonderful efforts in ripping up the rails, they would have succeeded in their attempt to send a flat car loaded with granite down the track, and I must have been cut in two. I tell you, fellows, it was a wonderful sight to see Bruce pry up those rails and send that car, granite and all, into the water. Ah, Browning!" exclaimed Merriwell, his voice betraying his feeling despite his effort to keep it under control, "it prolonged my life when you were born strong."

"Oh, it wasn't much work to rip up those rails," said the big fellow, with an air of modesty. "You see, the spikes that held them were planted in rotten wood, for the ties are very old."

"You never moved half as fast before in your life, Browning," said Hodge. "You did get a hustle on then."

"I had to," grunted Bruce. "Saw there wasn't any time to loaf."

"You saved my life," declared Frank. "The identity of the monster is solved, but the mystery of the island is as deep as ever."

"Shust vot do I mean ven you said dot?" asked Hans.

"Why should the hunchback rig himself up in that horrible manner and try to frighten persons away from the island?"

"There is a mystery," confessed Diamond.

"Certainly it is," nodded Merriwell. "Discovering the identity of the monster has not seemed to clear things up much. It has added to my curiosity."

"Berhaps id peen a healthy thing to stayed avay dot islands from," observed Hans, sagely.

"Whatever the secret of the island may be," said Frank, "those men are ready to commit murder in order to guard it."

"They came near succeeding," said Hodge.

"It looks as if they have succeeded."

"Eh? How?"

"You remember the story of the Boston man who was landed on the island and never seen afterward."

"The cock-eyed man told that story."

"Yes."

"Perhaps that was a part of his plan to scare us away from the island—to keep us from going there."

"Perhaps so; but you remember he told us there was a grave on the island and the headstone was marked, 'Sacred to the memory of Rawson Denning.'"

"Yes. More of his plan to scare us away."

"The grave is there."

"What?"

"Sure."

"You—you——"

"Found it. Bruce was with me. We came out into a dismal glade in the heart of the black woods, and there was the grave and the headstone with the words upon it."

"Jingoes!"

Hodge stared at Frank a few moments, and then asked:

"Do you really believe the Boston man was murdered and buried in that grave?"

"Rawson was the name he gave, and the grave was found on the island after his strange disappearance. It seems probable enough that he is planted there."

"By Chorch!" exclaimed the Dutch boy, turning pale; "I don'd vant to monkey aroundt dot island all alone by yourself."

"Do you have any idea what the mystery of the island can be, Merriwell?" asked Hodge, eagerly.

"Of course I do not know any better than yourself, but I have a suspicion."

"What do you think?"

"Yaw!" cried Hans; "vat do I think?"

"I believe some kind of unlawful business is carried on there, and for that reason the criminals are using every means to frighten away anybody who might prove troublesome or inquisitive."

"Then will it pay us to be troublesome and inquisitive?" said Diamond.

"That is the very matter we are here to discuss. The girls and Miss Gale are comfortably located here at Green's Landing, and they will be able to amuse themselves for a day or two. If we wish, we can run down to Devil Island every morning and return here every night. I am willing to confess that my curiosity is aroused, and I would give something to solve the mystery of the place; but I do not wish to drag any of my friends into danger where they do not wish to go."

"I hardly think there is one in this party who will not stand by you wherever you go, Merriwell," said Bart, quickly. "You can count on me."

"I knew it."

"And me," grunted Browning.

"I thought so."

"Und I vos anodder!" exclaimed Hans.

"That is good."

"Don't think for a moment that I will go back on you," said Diamond. "I started on this cruise with the intention of staying with you, and I shall."

"Good. That part of it is settled. I have said that the mystery of that island belongs to me, and I will solve it. I mean to keep my word."

"Vale," said Hans, "I never knowed yourseluf ven you didn'd keep your vord, Vrankie. But maype you don'd vant to took some more chances uf peing runned ofer a railroat on?"

"Hardly. We have a fair breeze. Shall we run down to the island this forenoon?"

"Come on," said Diamond, suddenly. "If we have a mystery to solve, the sooner we get after it the better."

There was a thump against the side of the yacht, and a voice called:

"Ahoy on board there! I want to see the captain of this craft."



CHAPTER XXII.

THE MAN IN GRAY.

When Frank reached the deck he saw a jolly-looking little man in gray clothes coming over the rail. Beside the yacht lay a dory, in which sat a fisherman who had rowed the old man off to the White Wings.

"Dang a dory," exclaimed the little man in gray, with a chuckle. "She may be all right to row round in on a troubled sea, but she'll tip quicker'n scat if you step up on the side of her. This one near spilt me into the drink after I was alongside here. What I want is a flat-bottomed scow or raft. I hope this yacht is good and steady, for I'm going to take a cruise in her."

"You are?" gasped Frank, smiling. "Well, that is cool."

"Of course," nodded the little man, brightly. "Everything around me is cool, even to my name, and that is Cooler—Caleb Cooler."

"I like your nerve!"

"I thought you would, though I have seen people who didn't like it. Some folks are fussy—here, my man," turning to the boatman, "here is the fifty cents I promised you if you would set me on board here. I shan't want you any more. You may go."

"Hold on," came firmly from Frank, who also spoke to the man in the dory. "I think Mr. Cooler is mistaken. He will want you—to take him ashore again."

"Oh, no—no, indeed," chuckled Mr. Cooler, pleasantly. "You are quite wrong, young man. I am going to Devil Island with you."

"The—the—dickens you are?" exclaimed Frank. He came near using another word in the place of "dickens," for now he was literally astounded.

"Oh, yes," nodded the queer old man, still laughing. "I won't be a bit of bother. In fact, you will find me mighty jolly company. Tickle me gently, and I am more fun than a variety show. I have been paid in my day to travel around with folks just to amuse them. I'm sure death to the blues, and I am better than all the doctor's medicine you ever took."

"Well, I haven't the blues, and I am not in need of medicine."

"Say you so? You're in luck. You do look cheerful and healthy, that's a fact."

"But I have some curiosity."

"Glad to know you are troubled by something."

"Yes, I am curious to know how you happened to come aboard this yacht in order to get to Devil Island."

"Why, aren't you going there?"

"Perhaps so; but how do you know it?"

"Feller told me so."

"When?"

"Little while ago."

"Where?"

"Up at Jobbins' store."

"What kind of a fellow? How did he look?"

"Looked as if some chap had swatted him with a brick right on the bridge of his proboscis, for it had a strong list to starboard, and one of his eyes was keeping watch at the end of it, while the other eye was on guard to see that no more bricks were coming in that direction."

"The man with the cock-eye!" exclaimed Merriwell.

"Sure as you live!" cried Hodge, who had followed Frank to the deck. "It's Hicks."

"So that scoundrel has dared venture into Green's Landing so soon," said Frank, grimly. "And he knows he did not succeed in his foul attempt to murder me!"

"Eh?" exclaimed the little man, in surprise. "What's that? Murder? Did he——"

"Never mind," interrupted Frank, eying the man in gray, as if seeking to read his thoughts. "I have a little affair to settle with Mr. Hicks, and the worst recommendation you could have is the fact that he sent you here. He simply surmised that I contemplated returning to Devil Island."

"But don't you?"

"That is my affair, Mr. Cooler. In no case do I propose to carry passengers."

"I am not passengers. I am simply a passenger. I won't bother you a bit. Even if you are not going to the island, I'll pay you to land me there."

"You seem very anxious to reach the place."

"I am. I am in a bigger hurry than a dog with a package of firecrackers tied to his tail. It's a matter of business. No time is to be lost."

"You will have to seek another mode of conveyance."

"What? Now, you are not in earnest! Ha! ha! He! he! I see that you are something of a joker. It's all right, all right. I tumble to your game."

"And I think I tumble to your game, Mr. Cooler," said Merry, sternly. "You can have the information you want."

"The information?" repeated the queer old man, in apparent consternation. "Why, it can't be that you are connected with the Eastern Bay Land Syndicate?"

"I do not know anything about the Eastern Bay Land Syndicate."

"What a relief!" sighed Mr. Cooler. "Really, you gave me quite a start. But I am ahead of them. If the island is as represented, I will secure it. This part of the Bay is bound to become famous with summer people."

"I do not know what you are trying to give me, but I tell you I am onto your little game. Go back to Mr. Dave Hicks and tell him I am going to Devil Island. I have met him there once; tell him I shall be pleased to meet him there again."

"But I do not want to go back to Mr. Hicks," protested the little man. "I want to go to Devil Island with you."

"You can't go."

"I must. Young man, I will pay you any——"

"I do not want your pay. You came aboard by that boat. Get into it and return ashore. If you are so anxious to get to Devil Island, you will find plenty of fishermen who will set you on there if you pay them for it."

"You are wrong. All the fishermen seem afraid to go near it. I tried several of them this morning, and then the man with the broken nose and the bent eye told me you were going down that way. That is why I am here."

The little man in gray seemed very much in earnest now, but Frank had made up his mind and was not to be turned.

"Get into that boat, sir," he commanded. "We can't take you to Devil Island."

"You'll have to," said Mr. Cooler, stubbornly. "I am here, and I am going with you."

"I rather think not," drawled Bruce Browning, who had been brought to the deck at last by the sound of talk.

The big fellow picked the little man up by the collar, carried him to the rail and dropped him into the dory, saying to the boatman:

"Take him ashore immediately, or he will have to swim ashore, for I shall throw him overboard if he boards the White Wings again."

The queer little man in gray looked astounded and then amused. He reached up and pulled his coat collar round into place, and stared at Bruce, beginning to chuckle, as if the whole thing was a very entertaining joke.

"He! he!" he laughed. "Excuse me. Can't help it. Very funny. You chaps act like you thought I'd bite. I won't bite. Never bit a man in all my life. However, I see you are determined to go away without me, and I'll not try to force myself upon you. If there is anything I detest it is a man who makes himself obnoxious by forcing himself on others. He! he!"

"Ha! ha!" laughed Hans. "I vos der funniest man you efer seen, ain'd id? Vale! vale! vale! Der next dime you come aproad der Vite Vings you hat petter stayed ashore."

"Now, that is more than I can stand," cried the little man, trying to look fierce. "No Irishman can talk to me like that."

"Vat?" shouted Hans. "Who vos I callin' an Irishman? You petter peen gareful ur you vill got me indo drouple! I vant you to understood I nefer peen an Irishman in mein life!"

"I don't wonder you deny your nationality," said Mr. Cooler. "But you cannot deceive anyone. That mug and that brogue will betray anywhere that you are Irish to the bone."

Hans began to jump up and down excitedly, shaking his fist at the little man.

"You shust safed my life py geddin' off this yotch vrom!" he yelled. "I murdered der last man vat caldt you Irish! Uf I efer seen you again you vill punch mein face off, und don'd you vorgot id!"

"Oh, keep cool, Patsey," advised the man in gray.

Now a wild howl issued from Dunnerwust's throat, and he rushed to the rail, leaning over to shake his fist as near his tomentor as possible.

"Uf you dare to caldt me Batsey aken you vill gif me a lickens!" he wildly threatened. "I von't pe caldt Batsey! Batsey vasn't your name, so don'd you dare to caldt me dot! I vos porn in Sharmeny."

"What part of Ireland is that in?" mildly inquired the little man. "I should say by your brogue that you came from County Cork, or somewhere in the south of Ireland."

"Oh, gif me someding to murter him mit!" shrieked Hans, like a maniac. "Gif me a gun! I vill shot him on der spot, or somevere near id! Gif me a gun!"

Then he made a wild rush for the cabin, still howling for a gun, and fell with a great clatter down the companion way.

"Take my advice, Mr. Cooler," said Frank, who was laughing now, "get as far away from this yacht as possible before Hans comes on deck again. He has gone for a gun, and there are several below, all of them loaded."

"As I do not care to be filled full of lead, I will take your advice," said the man in gray, calmly. "Irishmen are very quick-tempered, and I see I have ruffled this one somewhat. However, he proved very amusing for a short time. Good-day, Mr. Merriwell. I hope to see you later. In fact, I think I shall—Bill, you may set me ashore."

Bill, the boatman, was somewhat nervous, and he rowed away from the yacht as hastily as possible.

The dory was not many lengths away before Hans came howling to the deck, wildly flourishing one of Merry's shotguns.

"Shown me to him!" yelled Hans, almost frothing at the mouth. "Vere vos der man vot caldt you an Irishmans? He vill shoot me in a minute uf I see heem! Vere he vos?"

Then as he saw the dory pulling away, he rushed to the side of the yacht and prepared to shoot, but Frank seized him and took the gun away in a twinkling, saying, sternly:

"Are you crazy, Hans? Do you want to be hanged for murder? I never saw you this way before."

"Dot man caldt me an Irishmans!"

"Well?"

"He caldt me Batsey?"

"A very natural mistake, considering that you have a face that is strongly Irish in its general appearance and you have associated with Barney Mulloy so much that you have acquired his brogue."

Hans gasped and staggered.

"Vot do you hear?" he faintly said. "Uf dot peen a fact, I vos retty to shuffle off der mortal pucket und kick der coil! I don'd vant to lif no longer ven I got to lookin' an Irishman like und dalkin' so I mistook volks for von! My heart vos proken!"

Then, sobbing violently, he again staggered toward the cabin and once more fell down the companion way.

Laughing heartily, Frank followed him, and found Hans lying where he had fallen below.

"Are you hurt?" asked Merry, anxiously.

"Yaw!" sobbed Hans.

"Bad?"

"Yaw!"

"Where?"

"All ofer."

"Can't you get up?"

"I don't vant to got ub. I vant to die! Id vos my heart dot vos hurt. Oh, shust to vancy dot my vace looks like an Irishmans! Mein Gott! id vos awful!"

"Perhaps you can have your face changed, so do not take it so much to heart."

"Now you peen shoking."

"No; in New York there is a man who advertises to make over faces—to change them completely. It is possible that he might be able to remove the Irish look from your face."

Hans sat up.

"Py Chorch!" he cried. "Uf dot peen a vact, I vos goin' to had a new vace shust as soon as you can! Id peen der only thing vot vill kept me a brison oudt uf. I shall murder der next man dot caldt me Irish!"

"Well, you can have your face built over when you get back to New York, so don't take it so much to heart."

Hans got up after a while and dragged himself to a seat, while Frank replaced the gun in the strap from which the Dutch lad had taken it.

Browning came loafing down into the cabin, followed by Hodge.

"What do you make of that queer little man, Merriwell?" asked Bruce, flinging himself down lazily.

"I sized him up as a spy," said Frank. "He was sent off to find out if we intended to return to Devil Island. He found out."

"He certainly is an odd character."

"As queer as anything I have seen down this way. Somehow he did not seem like a native."

"No native to him," said Bart, as if that point was settled in his mind.

"He did have a crust," said Bruce.

"A crust!" cried Frank, laughing as he remembered what had taken place. "Why, I never saw anything like it! Came on board and calmly informed me he was going to Devil Island with us, and he would not think of leaving when I told him we did not want him."

"And he was not even ruffled when I dropped him over into the dory. He is well named, for a cooler customer I never saw."

"And he said he would see you again, Merry."

"I noticed that."

"But he didn't seem much of a desperado," yawned Bruce.

"Appearances are deceptive."

"Yaw!" muttered Hans. "Don peen a vact somepody took me an Irishman vor! Dot vos der plow dot gif me der lifer gomblaint mit my heart in!"

"I don't suppose, Merry," said Bart, "that you will defer your visit to Devil Island because of what lately happened?"

"I should say not!" exclaimed Frank. "I am beginning to get warmed up. If they but knew it, somebody is doing the very things to spur me on to solve the mystery."

"Hadn't we better leave Diamond here at the landing to look after the girls?" said Bruce. "It's plain he does not wish to waste the time to go down to Devil Island."

"It is plain you do not know anything about it, sir!" said Jack, sharply, as he stepped into the cabin. "I am ready to go, and the sooner we start the better I shall like it. If we are to investigate, I am in favor of getting at the investigation without delay."

"We will get away as soon as possible," said Frank. "All hands on deck."

In a very short time the White Wings was running out of the harbor, headed for Devil Island.

From the shore more than one pair of eyes were watching her with looks that boded no good to her inquisitive and daring owner.



CHAPTER XXIII.

THE CLAMBAKE.

As Bold Island harbor was sheltered and the yacht could lay close in to the shore of Devil Island and be so hidden that she would escape observation to a large extent, Frank ran in there, choosing that anchorage in preference to the one in the cove on the other side of the island of mystery.

It was near low tide when Merry ran in there, and he did not stop till the keel of the White Wings stuck fast in the mud at the bottom.

"I thought you were getting in too near," said Hodge.

"Not getting in near enough to suit me," declared Frank. "The bottom is soft here, and the yacht would sit up straight in the mud if the tide ran out so that she was left high and dry. It is low water now. At high water she will float all right and have any amount of water under her keel."

As soon as everything was attended to on the yacht, Frank cried:

"Come on, fellows, let's row over to Bold Island and see if we can find some of her famous clams. We may not get another opportunity like this."

"Oh, what's the use," yawned Browning, sleepily. "Too much trouble. I'm going below and turn in."

"I will stay to look after the yacht while Browning gets his nap," said Hodge.

Diamond was ready to go with Frank, and Merry asked Hans to come along. They had purchased a clam hoe at the Landing, so they were prepared to hunt the shy and retiring clam.

"Vale," said Hans, sadly, "I vill go mit you, poys, but I don'd peen aple to took no bleasure mit der shob since I vos caldt an Irishman. I don'd pelief you vill efer got ofer dot."

He looked very sad and downcast, as if he were nearly, heartbroken, causing Merry to laugh softly.

The three got into the boat and pulled over to Bold Island, where they began searching for the clams that have made the island famous throughout Penobscot Bay.

It was some time before they could find any clams, for the beach had been dug over and over till it did not seem there was a place left untouched. At last Frank turned over a large, flat rock, and down in the sand beneath it they struck their first clam. That clam, measured in its shell, was exactly seven inches long and a little more than five inches wide, while the shell itself was almost as white as the shell of an egg.

When Merry turned up this clam, Hans staggered and sat down on the sand with great violence, and there he sat, staring and muttering:

"Vot der tyrful vos dot? Uf dot don'd peen der varter uf all glams, you vos a liar! I don'd pelief I efer seen anyding like dot pefore in all your porn tays!"

"Hurrah!" cried Merry. "Here's proof the fishermen down this way are not all liars, or do not lie about everything. They told me this was the kind of game we should find here."

"But this must be unusual," said Diamond. "Can't all of them be like this."

"They say so."

"Well, they cannot be very good to eat. They must be too tough."

"On the contrary, I have heard they are splendid eating. Here is another! By Jove, it's fully as large as the first!"

Hans sat still on the sand and stared straight at the first clam turned out. Frank looked at him and saw the Dutch boy appeared on the verge of bursting into tears.

"What's the matter, Dunnerwust?" he asked.

"I vos peginnin' to seen things queer," replied Hans. "Vot do I think? Vale, uf dot glam don'd look like der mug an Irishman of, you vos a liar! Uf I kept on seein' things like dot to remindt me vot dot man in gray said, id vill drife me to trink ur to sluicide!"

They had brought along a bucket, and it did not take long to fill it with these large clams. Then they emptied it into the bottom of the boat and found another bucketful before stopping. With those they returned to the boat.

"We will go ashore on Devil Island, where there are plenty of rocks of all kinds, and seaweed, and there we'll have a clambake," said Merry. "There is wood enough on Devil Island, too, and it is nearer to the yacht."

The sound of their oars brought Hodge on deck.

"What luck?" he asked, as they approached.

"Great luck," answered Frank. "Get in, and we will take you ashore over yonder, where we are going to have a clam roast."

The clam hoe was passed up to Bart, and then he swung down into the boat, and soon all were ashore on the island of mystery.

Frank began constructing an oven amid the rocks, sending the others for fuel and seaweed. It did not take long to make preparations for the bake, and soon a roaring fire was blazing, as a lot of dry wood had been found near the deserted camps on that side of the island.

Frank took the clams down to the water and washed them carefully, a bucketful at a time, turning them all into the hollow of a large rock near the fire.

As the fire grew hotter, Merry threw stones into it and kept it roaring. None of the stones were smaller than a man's fist, and some were larger than a man's head.

"Why are you doing that?" asked Hodge.

"You will see when the time comes," smiled Frank.

Hans sat on a rock and stared into the fire, his air of dejection being extremely ludicrous to behold.

"Come, come, forget it!" exclaimed Merry. "Cheer up and be like yourself."

"I can nefer peen like yourseluf again so long as I had this face onto me," sighed Hans. "Id peen a vrightful thing to think dot I might peen misdooken any dime an Irishmans vor! Dunder und blitzens! I vos all proken ub in peesness ofer dot!"

It was useless to try to cheer him up. The more they talked to him the sadder and more downcast he looked.

After a while Frank had burned out nearly all the wood, and nothing was left but a dying fire. He did not wait for it to die down, but raked away everything but the red-hot coals and some of the stones in the fireplace of stone. Then he took the wet seaweed and threw it into the fireplace, where it began to sizzle and steam.

"In with the clams, boys!" he cried, as he began to toss the big fellows in upon the seaweed.

They helped him, and soon all the clams were scattered on the steaming seaweed. Then he covered them with more seaweed, and, aided by the others, piled the hot rocks he had drawn out of the fireplace on top of this mass of seaweed.

What a sizzling and steaming there was, and what a delightful odor came to their nostrils! Quickly Frank had another fire going, and by this he kept hot a mass of rocks he had heated in the first fire, but had not piled upon the seaweed. In this way, by the time the rocks on the weed were cooled off, more rocks were ready to take their place, and the clams were kept steaming.

After a time, Merriwell announced that the clams must be nearly done. He sent Hans off to the yacht to bring Browning ashore. The Dutch boy found it difficult to arouse the big Yale man, but Browning was fond of clams, and he came along quickly enough once he was fully awake and understood what awaited him.

As the boat reached shore, Merriwell began to rake the rocks off the seaweed.

"Ye gods!" grunted Bruce, sniffing the air as he approached. "What heavenly aroma is this that greets my nostrils?"

When the clams were uncovered and he saw them with their huge shells yawning and the meat within looking white and tempting, he declared he was very happy to be living.

"Gather round, fellows," said Frank, "Capture your clams and devour them. There will be no ceremony in this case."

Then, as Browning fished out a clam and held it triumphantly aloft, a man came whistling softly down the bank, joined the group without a word, raked out a clam and extracted it from the shell, being the first to taste the feast Frank had prepared.

It was the man in gray, Mr. Caleb Cooler!

"Yum!" exclaimed the man in gray. "That clam is hot!"

"Well, you are cool enough!" said Frank Merriwell.

"Oh, I'm Cooler," chuckled the queer old fellow. "Told you so some time ago. Howdy, boys. Fine day, isn't it? Think we will have some more weather? Or don't you know 'weather' we will or not?"

Bruce Browning arose to his feet and removed his coat.

"That's one way to keep cool at a clambake," grinned the man in gray. "What are you going to do?"

"Mop up the beach with you," answered Browning, quietly. "I am going to teach you a lesson."

"Teach is correct as you applied it," said Mr. Cooler. "Down this way I find people say 'learn' for 'teach.' Just think how bad it would have sounded had you said you were going to learn me a lesson."

He raked out another clam, but dropped it, shaking his hand and blowing on his fingers.

"Even though I am Cooler, I find some things are warm enough," he murmured. "That clam must have been near a fire. I dote on clams, baked, boiled, fried or frizzled, it don't make a dern bit of difference. Whenever I get an opportunity I go gunning for clams myself. I think it is great sport to shoot a clam on the wing. With a good bird gun and a dog, I presume it is an easy thing to bag clams around here?"

He was not paying the least attention to the big Yale man, and Browning's threat to "wipe up the beach" with him seemed forgotten.

Hans was glaring at the man in gray, while strange, gurgling sounds came from his throat. All at once he gave a yell, rolled over backward and scrambled to his feet.

"Don't touch him, Pruce!" warned the Dutch boy. "I peen goin' to smash dot veller myseluf!"

"Ah there, Irish," chirped Mr. Cooler. "You will catch cold in your liver if you let the wind blow down your throat that way. Have a clam and let it stop that orifice in your countenance."

This made Hans so angry that he danced wildly and began to choke and gurgle in his endeavor to shriek forth something, but the man in gray did not even look at him.

There was something extremely ludicrous about it all, and Frank was forced to laugh. When he saw Merry laughing, Hans seemed to lose all his strength, and he dropped down on a rock, completely knocked out, even though he had not been touched.

Browning was grinning now, for he saw the humor of the situation, and he could not help admiring the nerve of the queer old fellow.

"Look here, Mr. Cooler," said Frank, "who invited you to help yourself?"

"Eh? Oh, why, I didn't need an invitation to join old friends like you chaps. I knew you would be glad to see me."

"We are," grunted Browning, "tickled to death."

"Then sit right up and take hold, boys," chuckled Mr. Cooler. "Catch your clam and peel him. We'll have a real jolly time."

He raked another one off the seaweed.

"How did you get here?" asked Merry.

"I didn't walk, because I couldn't. Had to hire a fellow to bring me down, and then he didn't want to get near enough to the island to set me ashore. Wanted me to swim. Charged me five dollars, too. Never mind; the company will have to pay it."

"What company?"

"Why, the company I represent."

"But what company do you represent?"

"The greatest land improvement and development company on earth. You must know the one I mean, for it is the only one. It is the Bay Islands Land Company. The Eastern Bay Land Company has sprouted in competition to us, but we purpose to nip the rival concern in the bud. I am here to investigate such islands as may eventually become summer resorts and obtain options on them when I can get at the real owners. That's one great difficulty—to find the real owners. Some of them do not seem to have any owners, and yet sheep are pastured on them summer and winter. Some of them are owned by the government. Down at Vinal Haven I heard about Devil Island. They said there was some sort of a mystery here. An island with a mystery is certain to be a great attraction for summer visitors. I made a skip for Devil Island to see if it had any attractions beside the mystery. Had hard work getting here. Nobody at Green's Landing seemed to feel like dropping me here, you refused to do so, I couldn't walk. But I didn't get excited. The more difficulties beset my path the cooler I became. I am here, gentlemen, and I'm glad I came. I admire clams. They are fine. I think these clams are the finest I ever tasted. Have some, boys."

Mr. Cooler seemed to regret the time he had spent in talk, for he made a fierce dive at the clams and raked out two of them.

Merriwell's friends all looked at him to see what he would do under the circumstances. Frank was smiling, but there was a look of doubt on his face. For once in his life, he seemed in a quandary. There was something about this little, chuckling, jolly old man that seemed to forbid anyone to do him personal violence. Bruce Browning felt that. He realized that he would feel ashamed of himself if he should give the old fellow a shaking. And it was plain that Cooler could not be frightened away in any ordinary manner. Nothing seemed to alarm him.

"Sit up and eat some clams, fellows," said Frank, quietly. "Let him fill up, and then we'll tie a big bowlder to his neck and sink him out here in the harbor."

"Hum!" coughed the man in gray. "That's right, young man—let me fill my sack with these clams before you put me to soak. Perhaps you had better let me rest a while after that, too, for I never like to take a bath after a full meal. It isn't healthy. The best physicians condemn the practice."

So, with the exception of Hans, they again gathered around the clams and started to enjoy the feast. Hans retired by himself and sat on a flat rock, muttering and looking savage. At times he would shake his fist at the back of the man in gray.

Mr. Cooler seemed to have a remarkable ability to talk and devour clams at the same time. As Browning afterward expressed it, he "talked a blue streak." He told them he was a great traveler, he had been all over the United States, all over the world.

"Why," he said, "in Berlin I appeared at court."

"How much was the fine?" asked Frank, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Young man," exclaimed Cooler, "you astonish me. To look at you, I would not suppose you could be frivolous. I am slightly that way myself. Can't help it; born that way. Always see something humorous in everything. It's better than medicine; it keeps the liver in a healthy condition. Now, clams are hard to digest, but taken in connection with laughter and jollity they digest much better. There is enough sadness in the world if we do not go around with our faces drawn down. Be jolly. That's my motto."

There was something infectious in his light spirits and careless air. Despite themselves the boys found they were growing interested in this queer old fellow.

Frank studied Mr. Cooler carefully. Had he not felt certain that the man was playing a part, he would have enjoyed the old fellow's chatter. But Frank could see beneath the surface, and he was absolutely satisfied that Mr. Cooler was not what he represented himself to be. Frank had never heard of the Bay Islands Land Company; he did not believe there was such a company in existence.

If Cooler was lying, why was he doing so? What was his object in attempting to force himself upon them? Why had he come to the island in such a manner?

Frank had decided that Cooler was a spy and he had been set upon them by the very ones who were so determined to drive them away from that island. In that case, this light-hearted, careless old fellow was connected with a gang of criminals who did not hesitate to do murder in order to conceal their crimes.

Mr. Cooler did not stop eating clams till the last one was devoured, and he disposed of that himself.

"Ah!" he sighed, drawing back and finding a comfortable position, where he could sit with his back resting against a bowlder. "Now, I do feel good! Young gentlemen, I am glad you came. Accept my congratulations on this remarkably successful clambake. You have done a good job; I have done another. My stomach has not been in the best possible condition lately. I've been living at home. My wife cooks. Six months ago she was a magnificent, a celestial cook! Oh, how beautifully she could broil a beefsteak! But, alas! Also alack! She got the bicycle craze; she bought a wheel. Now she is an inveterate scorcher."

He took a pipe out of his pocket and began to fill it, chattering away in a jolly manner as he did so. He seemed inclined to do all the talking.

"Doesn't your jaw get tired at times?" inquired Frank.

"Eh?" came in surprise from the little man. "Why?"

"I should think it would, you talk so much."

"He! he! Ho! ho! Wait a minute. Ha! ha!—knew there was another way to laugh if I could think of it. Jaw get tired? My dear young gentleman, if you had a wife like mine, you would consider it a privilege to talk occasionally. I do not get an opportunity when I am at home. When I get away from home, I make up for lost time. Haw! haw!—came near forgetting that method of laughing. Don't mind me. I know I am something of a chinning machine, but I am harmless. Why, I wouldn't harm a—a—a lion."

He lighted the pipe and puffed away a few moments, talking a streak while he smoked. Frank was considering the advisability of pinning him down and demanding to know his real reason for being there, when, of a sudden, the little fellow jumped up spryly as a boy, exclaiming:

"This won't do. I must complete my tour of investigation. I must attend to business. I must look the entire island over and be ready to leave when that man comes back for me. Young gentlemen, I thank you for your hospitality. I wish I might stop longer, but, unfortunately, I cannot. So long, so ling, so lung."

Browning made a move, as if to stop the man, but Frank gave a sign to let him go. Mr. Cooler scrambled nimbly up the bank, turned and waved his hand with a flirting motion, and then vanished into the bushes.

"Fellows," spoke Frank, quickly, "I'm going to follow him. I must do it alone. I'm armed. I can take care of myself. But if I do not return in an hour, look for me."

Then he sprang up the bank after the mysterious man in gray.



CHAPTER XXIV.

THE WHISPERING GLADE.

Frank had learned the art of trailing from Indian guides in the West, and, for a white person, he was an expert. As a shadower, he had the skill of one who had been all his life in the business.

He did not let the man in gray get far away before approaching near enough so Mr. Cooler could be seen occasionally as he slipped through the bushes.

But it was not difficult to follow the queer old man, for Cooler did not seem to imagine for a moment that he was shadowed. He walked swiftly, puffing away at his pipe, and the smell of burning tobacco came back to the nostrils of the pursuing lad.

After a little time the man struck the path that runs round the island and through the old granite quarry. Then he walked still more swiftly, but Frank also found less trouble in following.

Soon the quarry was reached. Cooler passed straight through this and struck the track which led down the incline to the sheds near the wharf.

Now Frank was not able to pursue him so closely; he was forced to linger far behind, for to keep close meant certain discovery should the man look back.

Still he followed. The track ran through a cut and wound slowly along a bank, to one side of which lay the water.

Frank reached the cut and saw the man in gray disappear beyond some bowlders. A moment later Merry was at the bowlders, peering down the track toward the still retreating form of the little man, over whose shoulders at regular intervals curled blue puffs of smoke.

Frank had expected that the man would be suspicious and would look round frequently. He was astonished when the man did not look round at all.

"He doesn't act like a criminal," Frank decided. "He hasn't the air of a criminal. He walks along as if he had not a care in all the wide world and did not fear to have all his actions watched. It is strange—very strange."

Already Merry had learned that men who commit crimes betray themselves by certain peculiar movements. The thief unconsciously assumes the pose of a man picking a pocket, or taking what does not belong to him. The burglar crouches in his walk and steals along catlike. The guilty man often casts sly backward glances over his shoulder. It is rare for him to have the air and manner of innocence.

But this little man in gray, when, without doubt, he believed himself to be alone, was still the same care-free, careless old fellow.

He disappeared into one of the sheds at the end of the railroad. Frank had slipped yet a little nearer and watched from a place of hiding.

Five minutes passed, and then the man in gray and another man came out of that shed and took the path that led toward the old boarding house.

Frank uttered a low exclamation.

"Is it possible?" he muttered. "I believe I know that fellow with him."

He watched the companion of the man in gray. As they passed from view, he again muttered:

"I do know him! He is Dan Hicks, the cock-eyed man! That settles it! Mr. Caleb Cooler is just what I thought—he is one of the gang, and he came here to spy upon us!"

Frank ran lightly down the track, hidden by the bank beyond which the men had disappeared. He stooped as he ran. Ahead of him he saw the point where Browning had pried up the rails and sent a flat car, loaded with granite, into the water, thus saving Frank's life. He shuddered as he thought of his sensations during those terrible moments of peril while he was bound to the track and could hear the car rumbling toward him.

The bank grew lower till at last he could not keep hidden behind it if he ran farther down the track. Then he flung himself flat on the bank and crawled up till he could peer over.

The two men were walking toward the distant boarding house. Hicks was talking excitedly, while Cooler still smoked. Hicks looked back suspiciously, but the man in gray did not turn his head.

They passed the house where the overseer had lived when he was on the island with the crew of men who worked in the quarry—they were again hidden from view.

Over the bank scrambled Frank. Keeping the house between him and the men, he ran swiftly forward.

In a short time he reached the house. He paused to listen, his heart thumping loudly.

He could hear nothing.

Then he slipped round the house. He carefully peered round each corner before advancing. At the second corner he halted, for again he could see the men he was shadowing.

They were near the old building in which Frank had been struck down. The man in gray seemed to be asking questions. He was surveying the surroundings as if he had never inspected them before.

For fifteen minutes they stood there talking, and then they went into the building.

Frank decided to return to his friends. He quickly darted up an incline toward some cedars, which he saw grew thicker and thicker higher up the slope. Soon he was hidden by the bushes.

Then Frank went forward more slowly, taking pains to keep in the bushes. Up above was a ledgy height. He came to it after a time. He found a position where he could look down into the old quarry. From that position he could see the overturned car and the granite which lay in the water at the foot of the bank down which it had jumped. He could also look far out over the island-dotted bay. He could see small boats in the distance, he could see white sails, he could see the sunshine reflected on the blue water. In the midst of this mass of water and islands lay Devil Island, shrouded by mystery, lonely and desolate, shunned by man.

Once before he had strongly felt the air of desolation that seemed to hang about the place, and now the same uncanny sensation was creeping over him again. Somehow it seemed that he was far from men, far from life, lost in a lonely waste of water, cast on an uncanny island.

He shook himself, trying to throw off the feeling. He wondered why it should come upon him at that time, and then he began to remember how he had first felt it once before when near that very spot.

"The glade—the grave in the woods!"

He muttered the words, realizing that the woods were close at hand. They lay there dark and gloomy. He must pass through them in order to reach the White Wings, or he must retrace his steps and take the path. To do the latter would be sure to expose him to the men he had watched.

But Frank did not wish to turn back. There was something fascinating as well as repellent about the woods. Down there was a grave. At the head of the grave was a stone. On that stone was chiseled:

"Sacred to the Memory of Rawson Denning."

Denning, like Frank Merriwell, had been inquisitive. He had attempted to solve the mystery of the island, and he had disappeared. Afterward the grave had been found on the island. No one had dared open that grave to see if the body of the missing man from Boston lay within.

Frank felt a desire to look at that grave again. He went down toward it, entering the thick woods. Every step that he advanced seemed to cause the feeling to grow stronger upon him. The woods were silent and deserted. It did not seem possible that there could be a thing of life other than Frank anywhere within them.

All at once, with astonishing suddenness, he came out into the opening and there before him was the grave, the headstone gleaming gray in the dim light.

Frank paused. Involuntarily he listened. He had not forgotten how, on his other visit to the spot, both he and Browning had seemed to hear a mysterious whisper in the air, had seemed to hear a rustle down in that grave, as if the murdered man turned restlessly. Without knowing why he did so, Frank listened again.

"Look!"

He started, for it seemed that he had heard that whisper. He glanced all around.

Silence in the woods. Not even the rustle of a leaf. How lonely it was!

"Look!"

Again that word, coming from he knew not where.

At what should he look? What did it mean?

Then he told himself that it was all his imagination—he had heard no whispered word. He advanced toward the grave; he stood beside it.

"Look!"

Was it imagination? This time the whisper sounded amazingly clear and distinct.

"Look at what?"

In spite of himself, he spoke the words aloud. He did not expect an answer, and he gasped for breath when it came:

"The stone!"

A quiver ran over Frank Merriwell's body. Of all the mysteries on this island, the mystery of this black whispering glade in the woods was the greatest.

He bent forward and looked at the stone. There were fresh chips on the mound, and at a glance he saw that the name "Rawson Denning" had been chiseled out. Below it another name had been cut into the stone, so that the inscription now read:

"Sacred to the Memory of Frank Merriwell."



CHAPTER XXV.

SEARCHING FOR FRANK.

As time passed and Frank did not return, the boys began to grow restless and anxious.

"I don't like it," declared Diamond, pacing the beach, upon which the tide was washing higher and higher as it came in. "I did not think much of letting him go away alone. We all know what happened to him once when he was alone on this island."

"He knows it himself," said Hodge; "and it is mighty hard work to catch him twice in the same trap."

"Oh, he's shrewd enough, but he can be overpowered by numbers. What do you think about it, Browning?"

Bruce was stretched on the sand, his head pillowed on his coat, which lay on a rock.

"I'm not going to think for an hour," he grunted. "Too much trouble."

"Oh, your laziness makes me disgusted!" snapped Diamond.

"Huah!" came in a puff from the big fellow. "Something seems to be gnawing you still."

"Poys," broke in Hans, who still looked sad and weary of living, "I made der biggest mistook uf your life ven I let Vrankie go avay alone all py himseluf to chase dot liddle defil mit der saucy mouth—you heard me vawble!"

"If he had fallen into trouble, he would have done some shooting to let us know."

"But should we have heard it, Hodge?" asked Diamond.

"The island is not very large."

"I think it is pretty large, and I do not believe we could hear a gun fired on the other side even under favorable circumstances, and the circumstances are not favorable now."

"Why not?"

"Wind is blowing the wrong way."

"Didn't think of that."

The boys soon concluded that the shooting on the farther side of the island would not be heard by them, and straightway their anxiety increased.

Diamond was for starting out at once to look for Frank. He did not believe in waiting till the hour was up; but Hodge, who in his heart was the most anxious man of the party, objected to disobeying Merry's plain command.

"He told us to stay here an hour, and I shall stay here," said Bart.

"I suppose you would stay if you heard him shouting for help?" said the Virginian, hotly.

Bart flushed, for he did not fancy being spoken to in that tone of voice.

"I have always found it best to do just as Merriwell directs," said Hodge, stiffly. "If you wish to go search for him, you may go. I remain here twenty minutes longer."

Browning grunted his approval of the stand taken by Bart, and Jack gave them both a savage look.

Hans, who had refused to partake of the clams while the man in gray was present, was feeling very hungry, and that made him still more miserable.

"Oxcuse me, poys," he said. "I must made a raid der ship's brovisions ubon. I vill peen pack britty soon, if nod before."

Then he took the boat and rowed off to the yacht, where he lost no time in satisfying the cravings of his "inner man."

As the Dutch lad appeared on deck to row ashore again, Browning suddenly straightened up from his recumbent position. He had his watch in his hand, and the Dutch lad heard him say:

"The hour is up, Hodge."

Immediately Bart turned toward the yacht and shouted to Hans:

"Bring two of those guns ashore, and plenty of cartridges for them. Be lively about it! We are in a howling hurry."

"All righd!" shouted Hans, in return, as he plunged down the companion way.

He was not long in getting the guns and placing them in the boat, but when he reached the shore it was discovered that he had brought the wrong cartridges.

Then Hodge leaped into the boat and rowed out to the yacht for what was needed, returning in a few minutes.

Browning, however, usually careless and lazy, was fretting at the delay, for the big fellow remembered how, but a short time before, he had saved Frank's life by a hair's breadth. A delay of one minute in that case would have been fatal.

Bruce had some imagination, and he was beginning to picture Frank in all sorts of peril.

"Look here!" came fiercely from Diamond; "what are you chaps up to? Do not think for a moment that you are going to leave me behind! I'm going with you! I am going to help find Merriwell!"

"Of course, you can come if you insist," began Bruce.

"I do!" cut in Jack.

"But I scarcely think it advisable," the big fellow continued. "At least two of our party should remain and watch the yacht."

"Hans is enough for that."

"Don't you pelief I vos goin' to stayed here alone!" squawked the Dutch boy. "You don'd plaid dot tricks on me!"

Jack tried to argue with him—tried to convince him that there could be no danger in remaining on board the yacht; but Hans was obstinate, and the effort failed.

"You don'd fool me dot vay," he fiercely exclaimed. "I don'd stayed alone here, dot vos all."

It became plain that one of the boys would have to remain with him. Hodge had returned with the proper ammunition, and Jack was not supplied with a gun.

"Well," he said, fiercely, "I was the first one who wanted to go after Merriwell, but I seem to be left out of it. All right! I may come later. Perhaps you will need me."

"Perhaps so," confessed Bart, grimly. "Give us plenty of time to make a circuit of the island and return here. Then, if we have not appeared, you will have a reason for coming."

"Und I vill come mit him," put in Hans.

"Don't leave the White Wings unless you feel it is for the best. We are going prepared for trouble, and it will be a warm crowd that gets the best of us. Come on."

Away went Bart and the big Yale man, scrambling up the bank with their guns and quickly disappearing into the bushes.

Bart took the lead, but Browning was at his heels, swinging along with a stride that covered ground swiftly. There was a look of intense anxiety on the face of the giant.

Round the island to the quarry they went, down the railroad they hurried, and soon they were in sight of the spot where not many hours before Frank had nearly lost his life.

Browning drew a breath of relief when they did not find the mangled body of Merriwell stretched on the track. Somehow he had felt it was possible the wretches had captured Frank and completed their work at last, and he was dreading to walk down that railroad, fearing he should find the friend he loved and admired dead upon the rails.

"He is not here."

The words came from Hodge, and they were exactly what Bruce was thinking.

"No."

"Where shall we go now?"

"To the old boarding house." Away they went toward the building. It looked before them, the sunshine glinting on its windows, apparently utterly deserted. There was something forbidding in its appearance.

"We shall not find him there!"

Hodge spoke the words in full conviction that time would be wasted in looking through the building.

"Perhaps not," admitted Bruce; "but I know of no other place to look."

This was a confession that the big fellow would be "stumped" if no trace of Frank was found in the building.

They reached it, passed round to the back door by which admission had been obtained when Frank and Bruce visited it the first time, and there they hesitated.

The door was standing open.

"Just exactly as we left it!" exclaimed Browning. "No one has closed the door."

This seemed to surprise him. Hodge pushed forward and went in. Bruce followed.

The empty rooms echoed to their steps. Everywhere were cobwebs, dust, decay. Some of the windows were broken, some were boarded up.

From room to room they went, they ascended the stairs, they spoke in whispers.

The sun shone in upon the floor, but it brought nothing of cheer to the deserted building. It seemed like a mocking attempt to make the place look pleasant, an attempt that served to show its dreary desolation all the more plainly.

"He is not here," whispered Bart.

"The basement," came from Bruce. "It was there that I found him when he disappeared the other time."

Down the creaking stairs they went, Browning taking the lead now. The door at the head of the stairs leading into the dark basement was open.

"Just as we left it," declared the big fellow. "It was fastened in the first place, so Merry said. He had to force it open."

They lighted matches as they went down the stairs into the basement. The place was dismal enough, filled with old boxes and barrels.

"Frank!"

Browning called, causing Hodge to start and drop his match. Then they stood still and listened.

Squeak! squeak!

A rat scampered across the ground beneath their feet.

That was all. There was no answer to Browning's call.

"He is not here."

"No."

They lost little time in hastening up the stairs and getting out of the old building. As soon as they were in the open air they drew deep breaths, for they had been stifled and oppressed.

"Where next?" asked Bart.

"The house," said Bruce. "We must not go away without looking through that."

"Can we get in?"

"We will find a way—or make it!"



CHAPTER XXVI.

AGAIN AT THE GRAVE.

The door of the house would not open for them. Bruce threatened to burst it in with his shoulders, but Bart advised him not to do so, unless as a last resort.

Then a window was found that would open, and soon they had clambered in.

There was some furniture in the house, but still the place had the same dreary, deserted air of the big building they had just left.

Browning began by shouting Frank's name, to which cry there was no answer. The rising wind rattled a loose window.

It did not take them long to go through the house, to which there was no cellar, and they found nothing to indicate that a human being had entered the place for months.

As they stood outside, after getting out of the window and closing it behind them, they looked at each other in a helpless manner.

"What has become of him?" asked Bart, huskily.

"That is what I would like to know," confessed Bruce. "He seems to have disappeared completely."

"And the man in gray——"

"Is gone, too."

"Browning, I am afraid Merry was lured into some sort of a trap."

"So am I."

"Why should they take him in particular, and not harm any of the rest of us?"

"Perhaps their motto is one at a time."

"No. I believe Frank was selected out of our party as the one to get out of the way. He was determined to solve the mystery of this wretched island, and he was the leader of our party. The ruffians fancied that they would put an end to all trouble by getting him out of the way, for they fancied we would run at once."

Browning grunted, and Hodge went on swiftly and fiercely:

"By the eternal skies, they made a big mistake! I'll not leave this island till I know what has happened to Frank Merriwell, or I am dead!"

"Nor I," nodded Bruce. "I'm with you, old man."

"If he has been harmed," Bart went on, "the wretches who did the dirty work shall suffer! I swear it!"

"I'm another."

"We will bring them to justice!"

"Or kick the bucket trying."

They shook hands on it, and they were in deadly earnest.

They decided not to return to the yacht by the path, but to go over the island and through the woods. Thus, by chance, they followed almost directly in Frank's footsteps.

As they drew near to the dark woods, Browning felt a tightening at his heart—a sensation similar to that he had once before experienced as he stood beside the lonely grave in the dark glade. He sought to throw it off, but could not do so.

"Come," he said.

"Which way?" asked Bart.

"This way."

He seemed to feel something drawing him toward the grave in the glade, and Bart followed without another word.

Unconsciously the big Yale man stepped softly, as if he feared to alarm somebody or something. The moss beneath his feet gave no sound. Not even a twig snapped. Without knowing that he did so, Hodge imitated Browning's stealthy manner.

The wind soughed through the pines and cedars in a fitful manner. There seemed to be strange rustlings in the air.

At the edge of the glade Bruce halted. There was the grave, with the gray headstone. He stood there staring at it. Somehow he was possessed by a feeling that the grave had something to do with the vanishing of Frank Merriwell, although his reason told him that such a thing was folly.

"What is the matter?"

Hodge almost whispered the question, for he was beginning to feel the uncanny air that overshadowed the place.

"There is the grave," said Bruce.

"What grave?"

"Why, the one we told you about—the grave of the Boston man who disappeared in such a mysterious manner. It is supposed that he was murdered on this island and buried there."

Bart shivered.

"You act as if you half expected to see another grave beside that one," he muttered.

"Not so soon."

"But to-morrow——"

"If Frank has been foully dealt with, the villains have not been given time to make another grave. His body is hidden somewhere. But I will not believe anything of the kind has happened. We shall find him somewhere—alive and well."

"We must!"

Bruce remembered the strange whispering they had heard there when he and Frank visited the place, and now he listened, half expecting to hear it again.

The silence was unbroken save by the mournful sound of the wind in the trees.

Bruce went forward quickly and stood by the grave. Bart came up, and together they looked down at the gray headstone.

"What is that?" asked Hodge, pointing. "Somebody has been doing something to the stone since it was placed here."

They bent down and looked at the stone.

"Why," cried Bruce, "the first name has been chiseled off! Another name has been put on! That name is——"

"Frank Merriwell!"

Astounded, they stared at the headstone. What did it mean? Why was that name upon it?

The tightening sensation grew around Browning's heart. All at once it seemed that the mystery of the island was deeper and darker than ever before.

"Now what do you think of that?" cried Bart, huskily.

Bruce shook his head, for the moment feeling that he was not able to speak. It did not seem that he could govern his voice. All sorts of wild fancies were rushing through his head.

He looked at the mound, and a feeling of relief came to him when he saw that it seemed undisturbed.

Hodge was shaking. He reached out and grasped the big fellow's arm with a savage clutch.

"Was it—was it meant for a warning?" he asked.

"Yes," said Bruce, quickly grasping at that explanation, "it must have been. You have struck it, Hodge."

"Then it is not likely Frank saw it."

"Perhaps not, and yet he may have come here."

Then they stood there a long time, silently staring at that stone, on which was chiseled the name of the friend they held dearest in all the world.

At last Bruce hoarsely said:

"Come, let's get away from here!"

"But it may be that—somehow—we may strike a clew here. This may be a clew. This may explain what has happened."

"If this explains it, there is but one construction to be placed on Frank's remarkable disappearance."

"And that is that he is——"

"Dead!"

In the treetops the wind seemed to repeat the word in a whisper.

But neither Bart nor Bruce were willing to believe that Frank Merriwell was dead, for all that his name was there before them on the gray stone at the head of the lonely grave.

"Dead or living, I'll never rest till I know the truth!" came passionately from Bart's lips. "If he is dead, the murderers shall suffer!"

"We must throw off the feeling that anything so awful has happened. Even now he may be with the others at the yacht. While we have been searching for him, he may have returned."

Hodge caught at this eagerly.

"You are right!" he said. "Come on; we will hurry back there."

They left the glade, turning to look back as they passed on into the gloomy woods. They were glad to get away.

At first they hurried on, their hearts buoyant with the thought that they should find him waiting for them at the yacht. He would laugh at them, would jolly them because of their foolish fears. The placing of his name on the headstone of the grave was a ghastly joke, and nothing more.

In his mind Browning was thinking how he would growl at Merry for causing them so much trouble. He even thought of the words he would use.

But as they came nearer and nearer to the side of the island near which the yacht was anchored, their spirits fell again and they were beset by doubts and fears. What if they should not find Frank waiting for them when they arrived?

These doubts caused them to walk slower and slower, for they dreaded to hear that Frank was still missing.

"It seems to me," said Bart, "that it is very probable Merriwell will not be with Jack and Hans."

"He may not be," confessed Bruce.

"If he had returned, they would have fired guns and done things to let us know it."

"We might not have heard them."

"We should. The wind is right. We are near the yacht now."

Bruce felt like turning back and making another search. He dreaded to return and report that they had discovered nothing save the name of the missing lad on the headstone of a grave.

All at once they came out of the woods upon the high bank, from which position they could look down into the cove where the yacht lay. There she was, swinging idly with the incoming tide, and on her deck they could see Dunnerwust and Diamond. Merriwell was not in sight.

Almost as soon as they came out of the thick woods, they were seen by Diamond, and he called to them:

"What have you found?"

"Nothing," answered Hodge, gloomily. "Hasn't Frank returned?"

"No!"



CHAPTER XXVII.

SLIPPERY MR. COOLER.

Immediately Diamond and Dunnerwust got into the boat, which floated beside the yacht. They took guns, and Hans soon rowed the boat ashore. Bart and Bruce came down the bank and told them where they had been and what they had seen.

On hearing about the name on the headstone, Diamond became greatly excited.

"My God!" he cried. "Can it be that Frank has been killed? If so, I'll never forgive myself for letting him follow that man alone! Oh, that treacherous little devil! I could strangle him! I wish I had him here now!"

"So do I, py Chorch!" shouted Hans.

"It would not be healthy for Mr. Cooler," said Browning.

"Were you speaking of me, young gentlemen?" chirped a familiar voice, and down the bank came the man in gray, calmly walking up to the astonished lads. "I hope you were not saying anything behind my back that you do not care to repeat before my face."

"No!" rang out the clear voice of the Virginian. "I called you a treacherous little devil, and I repeat it!"

"That's complimentary, to say the least," grinned the man in gray, in his provokingly careless manner. "But I'd like to know what I have done to lead you to speak thus disparagingly of me. Wouldst tell me?"

Browning reached out and collared the queer old fellow, lifting him off his feet and swinging him around so he was in the midst of them.

"There!" grunted the big Yale man, with satisfaction. "Now we have you! You can't run, so don't try it!"

"If you try it, by the Lord Harry! I'll fill you full of lead!" came hoarsely from Hodge, who was fingering the gun in his hands as if he longed to shoot Cooler anyhow.

"Ah, me!" sighed the little man. "How rude you are, young gentlemen! Is it possible you are in your right minds?—or have I fallen in with a lot of lunatics? Why, I wouldn't run for anything! It's not necessary to threaten me. I wish you would tell me what I have done to arouse your ire."

"Where is Frank Merriwell?"

"Hey?"

"Where is he?" snarled Diamond, showing his white teeth. "Don't lie, man! Don't try it! If you do we will put you where you will lure no other person into a trap!"

"Goodness me!" said Mr. Cooler, somewhat mockingly. "You are very much excited, young man. I do not know what you are driving at."

"Don't lie! I tell you it is dangerous! We are desperate!"

"You really seem so."

"Where is he?"

"How do I know?"

"You do know! He followed you, and you trapped him some way. What have you done with him?"

"He! he!" chuckled the little man. "Followed me, did he? Why did he do that? It seems to me he should have been more careful."

"There it is!" burst from Hodge. "That is the same as a boast! Now we know you have done something to him!"

"You are a very knowing young man."

Now the manner of the man in gray aroused the anger and resentment of the boys. He seemed to be taunting them.

"Shall we shoot the snake, Bruce?" asked Diamond, his face purple with passion. "Shall we avenge Frank?"

"Not just yet," said Browning. "We will give him a chance for his life."

"You are very kind!" murmured Mr. Cooler.

"If he will tell us what has become of Frank—if he will lead us to Frank, we will spare his life."

"What if I don't know where he is?"

"You do know. You dare not deny it!"

"You are very much mistaken, for I do deny it. I give you my word of honor that I do not know where Mr. Merriwell is at this moment. I do know he followed me. He thought he was doing a very shrewd thing, and I must confess that I rather admired his skill at it, but I knew all the time that he was behind me."

"Ha!" exclaimed Hodge. "Then you know what became of him?"

"No. He followed me over to the other side of the island, and then he started to return by coming straight back through the woods. That is all I know. I am here to learn if he returned safely. If he did, I intended to warn him that his life was in danger if he should go about the island alone. You must see that I am serious now."

"Oh, yes, we see!" came scornfully from Diamond. "It is too thin! It will not work, Mr. Cooler. You know too much not to know more. If you wish to keep your skin whole, just lead us straight to Frank Merriwell—that's all!"

"I can't. I would do it if I could. But I give you my word to do my best to save him if he is in trouble. That is the best I can do."

Diamond's anger caused him to lose his head so that he threatened the old man with his fist. He quickly realized what he was doing, however, and, with an air of apology, he cried:

"If you keep it up, you will lead me to do something of which I shall be ashamed. You can't fool us, old man. We have you foul, and we'll never let up on you till you lead us to Frank Merriwell. We are young, but you will find we can keep a pledge like men."

In truth, Cooler seemed in earnest as he said:

"Young gentleman, you wrong me very much. I am ready to go with you and do what I can to help find Mr. Merriwell, but that is all I can do. It will be better if you will let me go alone. I shall be able to work alone far better."

"Oh, yes," sneered Hodge. "You think we are fools! No, we go with you."

"All right. I am ready."

It did not seem that anything further could be forced from his lips. They warned him that they would not hesitate to shoot if he tried to run away, and then they climbed the bank.

"If you want me to lead you," said Mr. Cooler, "come on."

He did not take the path, but plunged into the woods. They kept close to him, watching him.

"If you try to lead us into a trap," said Hodge, "you will be sorry. If we are ambushed here in these woods, my first shot will be at you. I'll fix you, if I never do another thing."

There was nothing like bluster in the words, and Mr. Caleb Cooler knew Bart meant exactly what he said.

"That is all right," nodded the little man. "Shoot away."

He led them toward the glade in which was the mysterious grave. At last they stood around the grave, and he said:

"Here is something I discovered since coming to the island. That name was on the stone before I joined you at the clambake. I forgot to tell you about it."

"Yesterday there was another name on that stone," said Browning. "The new name must have been cut there after we left the island yesterday afternoon."

"I do not know when it was cut there," declared Cooler; "but everything shows it must have been very recently. I do know it was there when I landed on this island to-day."

"And you know who cut it there!" accused Diamond.

"If you think so, it is useless to deny it."

"Now take us to Frank Merriwell!"

"All I can do is aid you in the search. I am willing to go anywhere with you."

They passed on from the dark glade, leaving the mysterious grave behind them.

Cooler seemed inclined to keep to the left, although the woods were thicker there. They pushed forward, as if passing through a jungle. Branches whipped them in the face, and beneath their feet the underbrush crackled.

All at once Diamond shouted:

"Stop! stop! Where is Cooler?"

"Why," grunted Browning, "he's right here. Thunder! He was at my elbow a moment ago. I scarcely took my eyes off him."

"He isn't here now!" rang out Jack's voice. "He has disappeared! He is trying to hide in these thick bushes. Scatter and search for him! If you see him running, shoot at his legs! Stop him somehow!"



CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE VOICE IN THE NIGHT.

The excited lads beat the bushes in vain. Caleb Cooler had disappeared in a moment, as if the ground had opened and swallowed him. It seemed impossible that he could give them the slip in such a manner, but he had.

At last four very disgusted and angry boys stopped in a little opening and looked at each other.

"We are a set of chumps!" declared Hodge.

"That's so!" grunted Browning.

"Ought to have held onto the snake all the time," came savagely from Diamond. "Oh, if we had him here now!"

"Yaw!" gurgled Hans. "Uf we had him here now he vouldn't done a thing to us!"

"I feel like crawling into a hole," growled the big Yale man.

"So do I," nodded Hodge; "but I don't know where to find a hole small enough. What fools we are!"

"Yaw!" again gurgled Hans. "Vot fools you vos!"

"But I'm hanged if I can understand it," said Bruce. "How did he do it? That is what I want to know."

"He was within reach at one moment and gone the next."

"Let's search again."

They did so, but the time was spent in vain. They were close to the rocks which rose above the ground in the vicinity of the quarry, but it seemed an utter impossibility for anyone to hide amid those rocks.

They decided to remain in the vicinity and watch for Mr. Cooler, thinking he was in a place of hiding near at hand, and he would be forced to show himself sooner or later. Having decided on this, they scattered somewhat, but were within call of each other. Then they settled down to watch for the man in gray.

It became ominously silent there amid the cedars and pines, save when the fitful wind made a rustling. Once a squirrel was heard chattering in the distance.

An hour passed, and then Diamond could stand it no longer. He called them together and said:

"Fellows, while we remain idle here, those villains may be completing the work of putting Merriwell out of the way. I think we are wasting our time."

"So do I," said Hodge.

"Und I vos some more," put in Hans.

Then they decided to scour the island. If hidden near at hand, Cooler knew they were watching for him, and it was not likely he would make a move.

Two hours were spent in wandering over the island, calling to the missing lad. They awoke the echoes in the dark woods, but the echoes were the only answers to their cries.

Disheartened and desperate, they returned to the cove in which the yacht lay. They were troubled by fears that something had happened to her while they were away, but when they obtained a view of her, she was seen riding peacefully at anchor.

The small boat was there, and Bart was the first to reach it. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation, and then called the attention of the others to a slip of paper that lay beneath a stone that had been placed on one of the seats. A moment later he secured the paper.

"There is writing upon it!" he declared.

"Read it!" exclaimed the others, pressing nearer.

On the paper, which seemed to be a leaf torn from a pocket account book, were scrawled the following words:

"You fellers Haid better git erway Frum Devul irelan in a Blame big Hurry or you will git used the saim as frank Merryfull did. you wunt Naver se no moar of Him."

"That settles it!" said Diamond, bitterly. "Frank is done for this time! They have finished him—the devils!"

"Well, they'll never drive me away from this island till I have found out how they did it and who they are!" vowed Hodge. "Right here I swear I will spend the rest of my life in avenging Merry, if it is necessary."

"I am with you!"

"And I!"

"Yaw! Me, too!"

They shook hands on it, with bared heads. Never were four lads in more deadly earnest.

The sun was low in the western sky, tinting the rippling waters with golden light. The scene was a peaceful one, and it did not seem possible that an awesome and appalling tragedy had taken place on that quiet little island that day.

Despite their determination, the boys were stunned and at a loss to know what was to be done. They entered the boat and rowed off to the yacht.

It was plain no one had visited the White Wings while they were away, for nothing on board was molested.

Hans was hungry, but he was the only one of them all who seemed to have any appetite. They did not talk much, but all were thinking, and the Dutch boy cried softly over the food he ate.

Little had they dreamed when they started out on the cruise that anything so terrible could happen and that they would be so completely dazed and bewildered. Their hearts were full of sorrow, but on their faces were looks of resolution that told they did not mean to be driven away till they had fulfilled their oath.

The sun went down redly in the west and tinted twilight crept over the water. In the woods on shore darkness gathered swiftly. They stared away toward those woods, as if watching for the appearance of their missing friend.

All at once Jack caught hold of Hodge, hissing:

"Look there!"

"Where?"

"Down toward the point. See—back in the shadows beyond the two pines! Can you see them there?"

"I see something."

"Two figures?"

"Yes."

"I saw them move—saw them come out of the woods. They are men, and they are watching us!"

"That's right."

"And one of them is that snake, the little man in gray!"

"I believe it!"

"I know it! Get a rifle, Hodge!"

"What would you do?"

"Shoot him!" panted the hot-blooded Virginian. "Get a rifle! I will put a bullet through the villain!"

Although hot-blooded and reckless himself Bart realized that Diamond must not do anything of the kind. But he did not find it necessary to reason with Jack, for the two men turned and disappeared into the woods.

"They're gone!" exclaimed the Virginian, regretfully.

"But they may come back again. We must keep a close watch to-night. There is no telling what desperate deed they may attempt."

So the night was divided into watches, and each lad took his turn on deck.

The sky became overcast, so there was little light. The black shadow of the shore seemed potent with dangers.

Bart had his second watch on deck, and it was not far from midnight when he was startled to hear a voice hailing from the shore:

"Ahoy, the yacht!"

"What do you want?" asked Bart, gripping a revolver and staring toward the point from which the voice had seemed to come. "Who are you?"

"Caleb Cooler, at your service," came back the answer. "I thought I'd tell you something that may relieve your minds somewhat. Frank Merriwell is alive and unharmed."

Bart gasped.

"Why do you come to tell us that?" he asked.

"Because I know you are worrying about him. Don't worry. He will be with you to-morrow."

This angered Bart so that he lifted his revolver, being tempted to send a random shot toward the point from which the voice seemed to come, but he changed his mind and lowered the weapon.

"So long," called the voice of the queer old man. "Turn in and sleep. You won't be troubled."

"That is what they want us to do," thought Bart. "It is a trick. But they can't fool us that way."

No further sound was heard from the shore. Cooler did not answer, although Bart called to him several times.

Jack had heard Hodge speaking, and he came on deck. When Bart told Diamond what had happened, the latter was furious.

"If I had been here, I would have fired six shots in his direction," he declared.

Diamond took his turn on deck, and it was about two o'clock when he fancied he heard the sound of oars. The sound came nearer and nearer, till at last it seemed that the boat reached the island, and then the sound was heard no more.

Morning dawned, and Browning arose in a strangely agitated state of mind. Never had his companions seen him in such a condition. When asked about it, he said:

"Boys, I had a queer dream. I'm going to tell you what it was. I dreamed that Frank Merriwell is buried in the grave on the island. I thought him buried alive. We dug him out and restored him to life."

"It can't be that Merry is buried there, for the mound has not been disturbed lately," said Diamond.

"All the same," declared Browning, "I am going to open that grave. I am going to know the secret it holds."



CHAPTER XXIX.

THE SECRET OF THE GRAVE.

Browning was determined, and it was not long before he had worked the others into a state of excitement over it. Without waiting for breakfast, they sprang into the boat and rowed ashore.

"I saw some tools in the sheds at the end of the railroad," said Bruce. "We will secure them."

The path was taken, and they passed through the old quarry and down the track to the sheds. There they found a pick and spade. With those in their possession, they hastened to the black glade in which lay the grave.

For once in his life Bruce Browning was filled with energy—he was aroused. But even as he reached the grave, he halted suddenly, his hand uplifted, hoarsely gasping:

"Listen!"

The boys were silent.

"Help!"

It was a smothered cry, and it seemed to come from the ground at their feet. It made the hair of the Dutch boy stand and his teeth chatter. It astonished and amazed them all.