Instantly Browning thought how the fisherman had told of the awful screams that came from the lips of the monster of the island. Had that monster uttered this cry?

Where was Merriwell?

"Frank!"

Browning shouted the name of his friend and the empty rooms echoed with the sound.

"Frank Merriwell!"

From room to room rushed the big fellow. There was no answer to his cries.

Quickly satisfying himself that Merriwell was nowhere in the upper story of the boarding house, Bruce bounded down the stairs four at a time.

"Frank, where are you?"

No sound save his own voice and the echoes.

A sickening sensation seized upon Browning. He began to feel that a calamity, a tragedy, had taken place.

From room to room he rushed, but he saw nothing of the one he sought. Was it possible Frank had left the building without saying anything to him? He could not think so.

All at once he stood before an open door, and he dimly saw a flight of stairs leading downward into the darkness. A cold, dank smell came up from the depths below.

Browning quickly decided that there must be some sort of a cellar or basement down there. The door was open. Frank had gone down to investigate.

But the cry that had rung through the building! What had happened below?

For a moment Bruce hesitated. Then he quickly felt in his pocket and drew forth a match safe. A moment later, with lighted match in his fingers, he was descending the stairs into the dank and moldy basement.

At the bottom of the stairs was another door. It was open. Bruce stepped through it and stumbled over something, dropping his match, so that he was in the densest darkness.

At that moment the wild shriek rang out again so near that it seemed uttered in his very ear.

He had his revolver in his hand, and he whirled, his heart having sprung into his mouth, ready to use the weapon. In the darkness he saw nothing.

Bruce was shaking as he crouched there. He heard his teeth rattle together, and he realized that he was completely unnerved. He was tempted to leap up and bound up the stairs. Indeed, the desire to do so was almost irresistible.

He listened, thinking he might hear something like a moving person, but after that blood-chilling scream there was no other sound.

At last he put out his hand and touched the object over which he had fallen. That it was a human body he instantly realized.

The thought that Frank Merriwell lay there dead in the darkness nearly overcame him. He feared to light another match. That touch had told him that the body was not that of a person stiff and cold, as it must be had it lain there some time. It was still warm, as if with life, but still—how still!

Browning's fingers shook as he got out a match. He prayed that he might not look on the face of his dead friend. The horrible fear of what he might see completely unmanned him.

Scratch—splutter—flare!

He lighted the match, and it blazed up at once. Its light showed him the sight he had dreaded to behold. Frank Merriwell lay before him, his face ghastly pale, his eyes closed.

The match dropped from the nerveless fingers of the big Yale man and went out. A low groan escaped his lips.

Then came the thought that Merriwell might not be dead. Quickly he caught up the body, flung it over his shoulders, and then he literally leaped up the creaking stairs.

Bruce did not pause till he had carried Frank outside the building. Then he took a look at Merry's pale face, saw blood trickling down out of his hair, and rushed with him to the well near the house.

Placing Frank on the ground, the big fellow fell to bathing his head, upon which was a slight wound that cut through the scalp. It was not twenty seconds before Frank opened his eyes.

Bruce gave an exclamation of joy.

"By Heaven! I thought you were dead!" he cried.

Merriwell looked dazed for a moment, and then murmured:

"I saw it!"

"Eh? Saw what?"

"The monster!"

"What? You did?"

"Sure."

"Where? Down in the basement of the boarding house?"

"Yes."

"What did it look like?"

"Just as described."

"Fiery face and hands?"

"Yes."

"Black holes for eyes?"

"Yes."

Browning gasped.

"What did it do?"

"Shrieked."

"I heard it!"

"And then it seemed that the whole building fell on me. There was a bright glare of light, and the next I knew was when I opened my eyes just now."

"Something struck you down."

"I think you are right."

"Know I am. I found you down there in the basement—brought you out. Oh, but I did think you were dead when I first saw your white face by the light of the match I held! I haven't recovered from the shock of it yet! It was awful!"

In a few moments Frank was able to sit up. The cut on his head was not serious, but his head was throbbing with a shooting pain, and he was dizzy and weak.

"Well, I've seen the monster all right," he said, with a grim smile. "There's some satisfaction in that."

"And I have heard it," put in Bruce. "I don't know that I care about seeing the thing."

"It did look something like the Old Boy himself," said Frank. "Don't wonder these fishermen are scared by it."

"Well, I suppose you are satisfied now?"

"Oh, no!"

"No? What will you do?"

"Oh, I'd like to know what the monster is made of."

"This investigating seems to be rather dangerous."

"And that makes it all the more fascinating. However, I think it will be well enough to give it a rest for the present."

"We'll go back to the yacht?"

"Yes, and have some dinner. After dinner we can take another whirl at the monster. We must not stay away too long this time, or the people on the yacht will worry about us."

"What shall we tell them?"

"Nothing. It will not do to tell of this adventure."

"But this handkerchief about your head," said Bruce, who was tying it in place; "how will you explain that?"

"Fell and struck my head. I did fall, you know, and my head must have struck the ground down there in that basement. We mustn't let them press us too closely. If they get inquisitive, we must change the subject."

Thus it was arranged. When Frank first arose to his feet he was so weak that he found it necessary to lean on the arm of his companion, but his strength came to him swiftly, so that he was like himself before he had returned more than a third of the way to the White Wings.

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.