  When Ned Blake and Dick Somers arrived at the Coleson house the next afternoon, they listened to a tale beside which Sam’s story was colorless by comparison. Dave Wilbur, who had brought the relief guard in his convenient flivver, was inclined to be skeptical. “Use your bean!” he urged, as Beals and Rogers set forth the details of their terrifying experience. “You two are getting as loony as Sam! You probably heard something that scared you and then imagined you saw a whole lot in one flash of lightning!” “I’ll bet you five dollars that you don’t dare stay here alone tonight!” rasped Charlie Rogers, wrathfully. “Can’t do it,” drawled Dave. “I’ve got half a day’s work to do yet before sundown. Hop in here now, you bewitched watchmen! Let’s get going!” Left to themselves, Ned and Dick carefully examined the ground where had occurred the alleged ghostly happenings so vividly described by Beals and Rogers. “It’s mighty funny that if there actually was somebody out here between the house and the woods, he or she or it didn’t leave a single track of any kind,” mused Ned as he surveyed the open space with puzzled eyes. “Here’s over thirty yards of sand from the house to the hard ground near the woods and not a mark on it, except our own tracks!” “Well, if the same thing happens again tonight, we’ll try to have a better look at it than Red and Fatty could get in one flash of lightning,” declared Dick. “I’m hoping it stays clear after the moon comes up.” Dick’s wish was granted only in part, however, for after climbing above the line of trees, the moon was covered much of the time by drifting clouds, through which it peeped at infrequent intervals. The boys had decided to pass the night outside the house, as this would allow them to observe a much more extensive part of the premises than could be seen from inside. The spot selected for their sentry post was a thicket of oak, from which they had an unobstructed view of the stretch of sand between the end of the house and the woods. At intervals one or the other crept from this leafy covert and scouted entirely around the building, moving with caution and scanning every possible approach to the house. Returning from one of these rounds, Dick reported the lights of a vessel out upon the lake. “Let’s take a look at her,” suggested Ned, and together they walked down to the beach. The vessel seemed to be moving in a southwesterly direction, and they could see the ruddy gleam of her port light. “She’s some freight boat making for Cleveland,” guessed Dick, but even as he spoke, the green starboard light flashed into view and it was evident that the boat had altered her course and headed in shore. For a time the boys watched the strange craft as it drew steadily nearer, when suddenly her lights winked out, leaving her a black hulk which loomed dimly in the darkness. “Well, what the deuce does that mean! What is she up to now?” exclaimed Dick. As if in reply to his question, a long, thin finger of light reached out from the vessel’s bow and played along the shore, not twenty yards from where the boys stood. “Down! Quick! Don’t let ’em see us!” cried Ned, flinging himself flat upon the sand. Dick dropped beside him and together they watched with fascinated gaze the small circle of light as it crept toward them along the ground. Nearer and still nearer it came, but just as it seemed about to settle upon them the spot lifted suddenly and touched instead the wall of the house, which it slowly swept from end to end. “That’s the light we saw Saturday night,” whispered Dick. “A searchlight that shot through the window when you opened the shutter!” “Yes, and I think I know what they are searching for,” replied Ned in the same low tone. “Look!” and seizing Dick’s arm he pointed to the white mark now clearly illuminated as the circle of light came to rest upon the chimney of the house. “The ranges!” Dick’s voice rasped in his throat. “She’s picking up the old range marks!” In a moment the top of the tall whitened stake at the water’s edge was touched by the thin beam of light and it was evident that the mysterious craft was creeping shoreward in line with stake and chimney. And now there occurred something that brought a gasp of astonishment from the two watchers lying prone and motionless upon the sand. A hundred yards or more from shore and just ahead of the oncoming vessel, the quiet surface of the water was suddenly agitated into ripples which silvered as the moon poured its rays through a great ragged break in the clouds and disclosed a small dark shape that seemed to rise from the depths and float upon the surface. Instantly the searchlight was extinguished and the darkened vessel drifting slowly shoreward came to a stop beside the floating object. “That thing is a marking buoy,” muttered Ned under his breath. “Now we’ll see what’s going on here!” In this, however, the boys were doomed to disappointment. Heavy clouds again blotted out the moon, and although the watchers crept to the water’s edge, they could see nothing except the dark hull of the vessel as it lay motionless. “They’re probably coming ashore in a small boat. Be ready to run if they land near us,” warned Ned. But no boat was lowered from the mysterious stranger and, except for an occasional faint splash, no sound reached the eager ears on shore. An hour passed and then it was seen that the vessel was in motion. Gradually her dark form grew dimmer till it melted from sight amid the shadows that lay black upon the broad lake. Again for a brief moment the clouds parted and the brilliant moonlight whitened the sands and tipped the tiny ripples with its radiance. Every rock and bush along shore stood revealed with startling distinctness, but on the silvered surface of the lake nothing was to be seen. The buoy—if such it was—had vanished. “I suppose that boat took it away,” suggested Dick. “Possibly, but I’m not sure,” replied Ned. “We saw it appear and maybe sometime we’ll find out where it came from and where it went. There doesn’t seem to be anything that we can do here. Let’s get back to the house; it’s almost two o’clock.” Retracing their steps, the boys had reached the scrub oak when they halted with one accord and stared through the leafy screen. “What did you think you saw?” demanded Ned, sharply. “Why, why, it might have been a firefly,” stammered Dick, “but just for an instant I fancied it was a—” “You thought maybe it was the tail light of an automobile going into that old wood-road,” interrupted Ned, grimly. “That’s what you thought—and I guess maybe you were right.” “Can we follow it?” asked Dick. Ned shook his head. “There’s no use chasing out there in the dark. Even if it was an auto, we’d have no chance of catching up with it. We’d best try to get a little sleep and wait for daylight.” Rolling themselves in their blankets, the boys lay for a long time, talking over the exciting events that had transpired since they first began work on the Coleson house. Instead of clearing up, the situation was growing more and more complicated, and after racking their brains in fruitless efforts to solve the puzzle, they at last fell asleep. The sun shining through the oak leaves above his head roused Ned Blake, and sitting up, he looked at his watch. It was nearly nine o’clock. “Wake up, Dick!” he cried, pulling the blanket from his companion’s shoulders. “It’s late! We ought to have been on the job hours ago!” Dick struggled to his feet, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and followed Ned, who was hurrying through the bushes in the direction of the old wood-road. Quickly but thoroughly the boys examined every foot of ground between the entrance to the road and the house. Broken weeds and crushed leaves showed where some vehicle had passed along the stony way, but not until the boys were close to the house did they come upon an unmistakable sign. On the hard earth amid the scrub oaks, a black splotch caught Ned’s eye. “Here’s where an auto was standing only a few hours ago,” he declared positively. “This is oil that dripped from the gears.” “It’s oil sure enough,” agreed Dick, poking at the black mass with a stick, “but isn’t it possible that it came from one of the cars that were out here Saturday night?” “If it had been here since Saturday night, that heavy thunder shower would have washed it into the ground,” objected Ned. “No, this is fresh oil and we know there was no car here up to midnight.” “Which means it was run in here while we were watching that boat down on the shore,” growled Dick, disgustedly. “What rotten luck!” “Yes, one of us should have kept watch up here,” admitted Ned. “We lost a good chance to get a look at our mysterious visitors, but we’ll know better next time.” Dave Wilbur, chief of transportation, was not expected till afternoon, but he appeared soon after eleven o ’clock. And he came alone. “Wat Sanford and Jim Tapley are drafted for tonight’s guard duty, but Wat funked the job and Jim won’t come without him,” explained Dave. “Wat’s naturally superstitious anyhow and Red and Fatty have fed him up with that bedtime story of theirs, till he’s so jumpy he’d see Coleson or Coleson’s great-grandmother if you hollered boo at him!” “Well, he’d have seen something queerer than any of the Coleson family, if he’d been here last night,” declared Dick, proceeding to give an account of the night’s happenings. “So while you two were watching some tub out on the lake, a car ran in here and out again,” remarked Wilbur dryly. “Well, ‘when the cat’s away, the mice’ll play,’ but take my advice,” he continued more seriously, “no matter what you saw—or what you thought you saw—don’t say a word to the boys about it. If Wat gets another jolt, he may refuse to come out here Saturday night, and a jazz orchestra without a trap-drummer would be about as jazzy as a church picnic. Tip off Red and Fatty if you like, but make ’em lay off Wat Sanford with their ghost stuff.” As there was nothing to be accomplished by remaining longer at the house, it was decided to return to town without delay. Charlie Rogers and Tommy Beals were waiting in the Wilbur yard when the three drove in. “Did you fellows see anything out there last night?” asked Rogers eagerly, as he and Tommy followed the car into the garage. Ned paused to close the garage doors against possible intrusion and then proceeded with a more or less detailed account of what had occurred. “Then you didn’t get a sight of that—that creature; that big, shapeless, humpbacked-looking thing that Red and I saw standing between the end of the house and the woods?” asked Beals. “Oh, you needn’t look so darned wise, Dave!” snapped Charlie Rogers, his peppery temper flaring at sight of Wilbur’s ill-concealed grin. “Fatty and I saw it—even if it was only for an instant. If Ned and Dick had stayed up at the house, they might have seen it also!” “That is quite possible,” interposed Ned, quickly, “and although we didn’t actually catch sight of a person or anything that looked like one, we saw enough to make us sure that there’s something mighty queer going on out there. We’ve got to find out what it is, but until we do solve the mystery, let’s not say much about it—especially to Wat or Jim.” “You talk about solving the mystery,” began Tommy, doubtfully. “Have you got any idea, Ned?” “No, I haven’t,” admitted Ned, “but I’d like to investigate that old wood-road. We might stumble onto something.” “How about it, Dave? Will you run us out there?” asked Rogers, who was eager to begin the proposed search. “Sure thing,” grinned Wilbur. “I’d like nothing better than to get a look at some of this ghost stuff with my own eyes.” |
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