Edwards looked sour enough as he went to the bench.

"What's the matter?" asked Gulsiver, who was swinging two bats so that one would seem lighter to him when he came to strike.

"That Yale chap is the devil!" growled Edwards.

Gulsiver was a college man and a fine fellow. He had played with Camden the previous season, and Camden was sorry it did not have him that year. He looked anxious but determined to do his best as he went to the plate.

Frank had decided that he was using the double shoot altogether too much, for it would soon put a kink in his elbow if he kept it up. He had used it on Edwards because the Rockland shortstop had challenged him to do so. Gulsiver was tried with a coaxer, but he let it pass. Then Frank gave him a rise, and he hit it.

The ball popped up into the air and fell into Merriwell's hands, retiring Rockland on eight pitched balls, without a single batter getting started toward first base.

The Camden crowd was happy, and the Rocklandites were disgusted. But Rockland had a pitcher who more than once proved a hoodoo for Camden. The redoubtable "Grandpa" Morse was to go into the box this day. There had been a time when Morse could scare the Camden players with his speed and fool them with his "southpaw" delivery. Rockland hoped that time had not passed, even though the rooters of the Limerock City were aware that Morse was not dealing with tenderfeet this day.

Moslof had placed Hodge at the head of the batting list at Merriwell's suggestion. Bart picked up a heavy stick and advanced to the plate, as Morse entered the box. The Rockland men were in their places on the field.

Morse was working his jaw over a chew of gum. He had a glove on his right hand, and with this he covered the ball so it could not be seen. At the very start Merriwell made a kick about this, and Morse was forced to show the ball in his hand. He grinned at Frank with an expression that seemed to say he would get even, and then, putting on all the steam at his command, he sent a high ball over the plate, thinking to daze Hodge with his speed.

Hodge swung at it, hit it fairly without much effort, and put it over the center field fence, trotting around the bases to the music of the cheers of the Camden crowd.

Then Morse was riled. Williamson came next, and "Grandpa" struck him out, giving the Rocklandites a chance to yell a little. Cogern followed, and made a hard try for the center field fence, but Gulsiver got back against the fence, reached up into the air and pulled the ball down, to the increased delight of the Rockland spectators. McDornick was too anxious, and he hit an easy roller to Edwards, who threw him out at first.

But the first inning had ended one to nothing in Camden's favor.

Then Merriwell went into the box again, but he did not attempt to work his double shoot till Rockland had filled the bases with a hit, a wild throw by Mower and a dropped fly by McDornick, followed by a poor throw to third.

Now Rockland thought her time had come. The coachers were doing their best to rattle Merriwell, aided by the yelling crowd, but Frank never was cooler in his life. He struck out the next man, and the next popped up a little fly to Makune. Then Merry took a hot liner from the next batter, and Rockland did not score.

Then Bixton hunted up Snell.

"I'll give you ten dollars to get that drug into Merriwell," he said.

"Furnish me with a boy to pass Merriwell the water and I'll do it," said Snell. "Merriwell would suspect me."

Bixton found the boy, and the plot to knock Frank out was laid. Snell called the boy aside and gave him full instructions.

"Here is a little vial," he explained. "All you have to do is stick by the water bucket at the end of the Camden bench. Keep this vial in your hand uncorked and ready. You can keep it out of sight. When Merriwell wants a drink, it will be easy for you to drop some of the stuff in the vial into the bucket. As soon as he drinks, upset the bucket, so nobody else will get any of the stuff. Here's ten dollars for you."

The boy took the vial and the ten dollars. Then, when Snell was not watching him, he looked around for French, the Rockland manager, found him and told him the whole plot.

French was furious.

"I wouldn't have that happen on this ground for a hundred dollars!" he declared. "Point out the fellow who hired you to do this, and I will have him arrested! We are winning no games in that way!"

The boy pointed Snell out, and, five minutes later, Wat turned pale as an officer tapped him on the shoulder and said:

"Come with me. Don't make any fuss, or the crowd will find out that you hired a boy to drug Frank Merriwell. You'll be lynched if they do find it out."

Snell could not say a word. With the officer's hand on his shoulder, he was marched off the ground, while the crowd wondered why he had been arrested. Bixton, the crooked sport, saw this, and it did not take him long to disappear.

So the plot to knock Merriwell out was frustrated, and Frank pitched the game through, giving Rockland just four hits. At the end of the eighth inning the score stood two to one in favor of Camden. With the beginning of the ninth a combination of bad plays placed a Rockland man on third, with one man out. Then the next batter drove out a long fly to Cogern, and the man on third attempted to score on it. Cogern made the throw of his life, nailing the runner at the plate and spoiling Rockland's last chance.

The game was over, and Camden had won by a score of two to one. It had been a beautiful game, and once more Camden and Rockland were tied for first place in the Knox County League.

The Camden rooters were happy, while the Rockland spectators melted away and disappeared from view with amazing suddenness when the last man was out.

It was plain enough that the Rockland people expected the visitors to celebrate as Rockland had done in Camden, but nothing of the kind was permitted. Still it was a joyful crowd that loaded the two trolley cars and went through the main street of the city singing:

"Boom-ta-de-aye, boom-ta-de-aye, De-boom-ta, de-boom-ta, de-boora-ta-de-aye; We won to-day, we won to-day, Oh, we won, oh, we won, oh, we won to-day."

As they passed the Star office the bulletin was out:

"Baseball To-day: "Camden, 2; Rockland, 1."

The crowd on the cars cheered as they passed the bulletin, and they sang all the way to Camden.

But when those cars entered Camden what a reception awaited the victors! It seemed that half the town had turned out to meet them. Everybody had a horn. As the first car, carrying the ball players, approached the opera house there was a deafening blare of sound, and the explosion of cannon crackers, and cheer after cheer rent the air. The moment the car stopped Frank Merriwell was torn from his seat by admirers, was lifted to the shoulders of sturdy fellows and carried to the hotel without being allowed to touch his feet to the ground, while the throng surged around him and shouted.

An hour later, as he sat in the office of the hotel, surrounded by friends and admirers, he said:

"Fellows, I'd like to spend the rest of the summer right here in this town. It's all right! I'm glad I've found Camden, and you may be sure it's not the last time I shall stop here."

Then the mayor of the town, who happened to be present, said:

"Mr. Merriwell, Camden belongs to you. If there is anything here that you want, take it. If you don't see what you want, ask for it. I don't know that we can do any better by you than that."

That evening Landlord Drayben gave the baseball boys a dinner at the hotel, and there were speeches and toasts and cheers for Merriwell.

After the dinner the dining room was cleared, an orchestra appeared, and there was dancing. Again Frank was the first on the floor, with Phebe Macey as his partner. And Phebe was the happiest girl in Camden that night.



CHAPTER XV.

OFF FOR BAR HARBOR.

It was nearly midnight when a boat containing four lads pushed out from Fish Market Wharf and pulled down Camden harbor toward the fleet of yachts that lay anchored in Dillingham's Cove.

The moon had dropped down into the west, but it still shed its pure white light on the unrippled water of the harbor, and, despite the lateness of the hour, several boating parties were out. From away toward the Spindles came the sound of a song, in which four musical voices blended harmoniously. Nothing stirs the entire soul with a sense of the beautiful like the sound of a distant song floating over the silvered bosom of a peaceful bay or lake on a moonlight night in midsummer. Hodge and Diamond, who were rowing the boat, rested on their oars, and the four lads listened a long time.

"Beautiful!" murmured Merriwell, who was sitting in the stern of the boat, the rudder lines in his hands.

Browning grunted.

"The yelling of the Camden crowd on the Rockland ball ground to-day sounded better to me," he said.

Quoth Merriwell:

"'The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, strategems and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted.'"

"Huah!" said Bruce. "Talk about a 'concord of sweet sounds,' what could be sweeter than the howls of those baseball rooters when you worked your double shoot on the Rockland batters and kept them fanning the breeze? That was what I call music!"

"Fellows," sighed Frank, "this has been a lively day."

"It certainly has," nodded Hodge.

"Things move in a hurry down here at this season of the year," put in Diamond.

"It's rather too lively for me," confessed Merriwell. "I am stuck on Camden, but I must get out of it right away."

"Why?" asked the others, in a breath.

"The people here will not give me any rest. If I remain, it will be impossible for me to refuse to play ball with the Camden team, and I did not come down here for that. Why, I could have a hundred dollars a week if I would play with Camden. Money doesn't seem to be of value to the people here, now that they think I can beat Rockland every time I go into the box. They are ready to give up anything to beat Rockland. I haven't any grudge against Rockland. In fact, if what I hear about Wat Snell's attempt to drug me is true, I have every reason to be grateful toward Manager French, for he caused Snell's arrest, and it is likely that Wat is languishing in the Rockland lockup to-night."

"That fellow will land in prison all right," said Diamond. "He is the most vindictive creature I ever saw."

"If French pushes him, he may be shut up for a while down this way," observed Hodge.

"I was going to spend a week up there on the mountain," said Jack, looking toward the top of Battie, where the lights of the Summit House were still gleaming, despite the hour. "If we get out of here in a rush, I'll not get up there again."

"We were there last night," said Frank. "That was a jolly time, and no one expected it. After dancing on the mountain last night, pitching a game of ball to-day and then dancing at the Bay View to-night, I am ready to rest to-morrow."

Browning grunted again.

"I believe you are getting frightened," he yawned.

"Of what?"

"The girl with the roguish eyes."

"Phebe?"

"Sure."

"Why should I be frightened of her?"

"She has hypnotized you with those eyes. Notice how often he danced with her, fellows? Inza Burrage is down this way, and——"

"She is in Bar Harbor now."

"Well, that's not far. You are counting on getting away from Phebe before she weaves her spell about you so you can't break away."

"It's wonderful how you read a fellow," laughed Merriwell. "You should go into the mind-reading business. Anyhow, we'll get up anchor early, if there is a breeze, and leave Camden behind us."

"For good?" asked Diamond, anxiously.

"Oh, perhaps not for good. We may drop in here on our way back. Can't tell just what we will feel like doing."

A boat was gliding past them. It came near enough for its occupants to recognize the lads in the other boat. Somebody said:

"It's Merriwell and his party."

Then a feminine voice called:

"Hello, Frank Merriwell. You are a dandy!"

"Thank you," said Frank, laughing. "There are others."

"Not in your class," was the quick retort. "You are the only one of the kind."

"Who was that?" asked Diamond, as the boat passed on.

"Couldn't tell you, my boy," answered Frank.

"Why, that's strange! She spoke to you as if she knew you. Familiar for a stranger!"

"Evidently she is intoxicated—by the moonlight," grunted Browning.

"If we stay down this way long, I fancy we'll find there is considerable freedom at these summer resorts," said Merry. "People do not always wait for introductions down here. But the girl in that boat would not have spoken had it been in the daytime. She knew I could not recognize her, and that is how she ventured to do it."

"Well, let's get on board," urged Bruce. "I'm tired, and I want to turn in."

"Pull away," directed Frank, and the boys began rowing again.

They passed other rowboats, and the sound of voices and laughter came over the moon-burnished bosom of the harbor. On board one of the yachts not far from the White Wings a jolly party had gathered. Somebody was picking away at a guitar and softly humming the latest song. Others were chatting and laughing. The yacht was decorated with Chinese lanterns and was burning bright lights.

"Those lights would look better if there wasn't any moon," observed Diamond.

As they approached the White Wings a figure suddenly arose on the deck and leveled something at the boat, while a voice called:

"Stood still vere I vos und gafe der coundersign! Uf I don'd done dot you vill oben vire onto me!"

"Here, here, Hans!" exclaimed Merry. "What are you trying to do—shoot us? Be careful with that gun!"

"Vos dot you, Vrankie?" asked the faithful Dutch boy, lowering the gun. "Vale, I don'd vant to make no mistook, und so I peen careful not to led any vellers come apoard uf me vot I don'd vant to seen. I vos glad you haf camed."

They ran up to the sloop and were soon on board. It was necessary to tell Hans what had happened that day, but he simply said:

"Oh, I knew how dot vould peen all der dime. Uf course Vrankie blayed marples mit Rocklandt."

That night they slept well in their berths, for a cool breeze sprang up about midnight, so the cabin of the yacht was not too warm, and there was the gentlest of rocking motions to lull their senses.

Frank was astir at daybreak, and it did not take him long to turn the others out when he discovered there was a land breeze.

"It's just what we want," he said. "We must get away in a hurry, fellows. We can take our breakfast after we get outside the harbor."

So the anchor was raised, the sails run up in a hurry, and the White Wings, with Frank at the wheel, headed for the Spindles. At sunrise she was outside the harbor's mouth, with her course set due east. Outside the harbor there was a strong, steady breeze, and it was not long before the twin mountains of Camden began to sink into the purple morning mists.



CHAPTER XVI.

DIAMOND'S PLANS.

The season at Bar Harbor was at its height, and the most famous resort on the coast of Maine was overflowing with rich, fashionable and famous people. Congressmen and their families were there, millionaires from various parts of the country were there, titled persons from abroad were there. Frenchman's Bay was almost crowded with yachts, and excursions were pouring into the town by the railroad and by steamboats. There were drives by day, excursions to various points about the bay, and by night there were hops at the hotels, strolls in the moonlight, and gay times on board the yachts that clustered in the harbor.

Two days at Bar Harbor made Frank and his friends long to get away.

"This isn't much like Camden, don't you know," yawned Browning, as he rolled into his berth on the afternoon of the second day. "We made a mistake in running away from that town in a hurry."

"You know why we did it," said Frank, quickly. "We were too well known there. Now, over here we have been discreet and kept our identity secret. That was not such a task, either, for I do not fancy one out of a thousand of these people ever heard anything about any of us, or would take the trouble to turn round to look after us if they had heard of us and knew who we were. By Jove! I find it rather agreeable, fellows!"

"Oh, that's all right," nodded Diamond. "I don't fancy notoriety any more than you do, Merry; but there is something about the atmosphere here that I don't quite relish, although I can't tell what it is."

Frank laughed.

"I fancy I know what it is, old man."

"Then let me into the mystery."

"It is the air of commercial aristocracy these people wear. Now, by birth and breeding, Diamond, you are a true aristocrat, but with you blood is everything, and it rather galls you to witness the boorish air of superiority assumed by some of these millionaire pork packers with neither education nor refinement. I don't wonder. When you came to Yale you had some silly notions about aristocracy, but you have gotten over them to a certain extent, so that now you recognize a gentleman as a gentleman, even though his father was a day laborer; but you realize that no man is a gentleman simply because he is worth several million dollars and has a daughter he is trying to marry off to a foreigner with a title and a blasted reputation. We are getting nearer together in our ideas every day, Diamond, whether you realize it or not. These money-made aristocrats with their boorish manners and their inability to speak or spell the English language correctly are quite as repugnant to me as they are to you. There are plenty of such society people here, and they are making you tired, old man. I don't wonder. I am becoming a trifle fatigued myself."

"Yaw," grunted Hans, who had been listening with an owlish look of wisdom on his full-moon face, "vot makes me dired vos dose beoble vot don'd knew how to speak der English language mitoudt a misdake makin' their spelling in."

"I can't say that I relish Bar Harbor so very much," said Hodge, speaking for the first time. "I think I have seen enough of it."

"Let's move," grunted Browning.

"Oh, you will trouble yourself a lot about moving!" laughed Frank.

"I'll move when the yacht does."

"And help get up the anchor?"

"Oh, say, I'll pay Hans to do my share of pulling on the anchor line! My heart is weak, and I am liable to strain it by overexertion."

"You are not at all liable to, for you will not overexert yourself."

"If we leave Bar Harbor, where shall we go, fellows?" asked Diamond.

"Oh, there are plenty of places," assured Frank.

"Mention some of them."

"As you know, Penobscot Bay is full of islands, and on some of those islands are villages. Now, it is my belief that some of those villages would be interesting places to visit."

"A good suggestion."

"We might run down to Green's Landing or Isle au Haut."

"Say!" exclaimed Diamond.

"Say it."

"I have an idea."

"Vos dot as pad as der rheumadisms?" asked Hans, innocently. "Vere did id hurt me most?"

"Let's invite the girls," said Jack.

"Inza and Paula?"

"Yes."

"Huah!" grunted Browning, from his berth. "Anybody might have known it! Think of John Diamond, of Virginia, getting soft on a Boston girl! Ha! ha! ha!"

The big fellow's words and laughter irritated Diamond, and he snapped:

"I don't see what there is so very funny about that!"

Then Browning laughed all the more, saying:

"You see, he doesn't deny it, fellows. I suspected it when they met in Rockland. It was a case of love at first sight."

"Paula Benjamin is a splendid girl," said Frank, "and you are stuck on her yourself, Browning. Jealousy is what ails you."

The big fellow flopped over in his berth with remarkable suddenness, his face becoming wonderfully red.

"Now, look here, Merriwell," he exclaimed, "that won't go down with this crowd. You all know I don't care a rap about girls, and——"

"Vot made you got so red aroundt der gills, Pruce?" chuckled Hans. "Dot peen a deadt gife avay."

Jack was glad the tables were turned, and he joined in the general laugh.

"Oh, go to thunder, the whole of you!" roared Browning, as he again flopped over in his berth.

"What would we do with the girls?" asked Hodge. "We have not sufficient room on the boat to accommodate them here, and——"

"There must be some sort of a hotel at Green's Landing," said Diamond, quickly. "Of course, Miss Gale, Inza's aunt, would go along as chaperon."

"Well, it would be a change from Bar Harbor," said Frank. "This place is too much like all other fashionable seaside resorts to suit me, and still I do not feel like running away and leaving the girls. They would think it a mean trick if we were to do so so soon."

"Perhaps they won't go," said Hodge, who did not seem much in favor of the project.

"Well, we can ask them," spoke up Diamond, quickly.

"I am to see Inza this evening, and I'll find out about it," said Frank. "If they can go, we want to get away bright and early to-morrow, providing there is a breeze."



CHAPTER XVII.

THE MAN WHO SAW THE MONSTER.

The girls gladly welcomed the plan, for they felt there would be much pleasure in a cruise among the islands of the bay. At first, however, Miss Gale was opposed to it, but Frank won her over, as Inza felt certain he could.

So the next morning the girls appeared on the pier at an early hour, accompanied by the stern-faced but kind-hearted old maid, having been brought down from the hotel by a carriage.

The boys were on the watch for them, and a boat, containing Frank and Jack, pushed off from the White Wings immediately.

The girls, the chaperon, the baggage—all were taken into the boat and soon set aboard the yacht.

Half an hour later, with all sails set, the White Wings was running out to round the end of the breakwater.

With favorable wind and conditions, it is just a delightful half-day's cruise from Bar Harbor to Green's Landing. Off Southwest Harbor the wind proved something of a gale, as nothing in the shape of land lay between them and the open ocean, from which the wind swept in powerfully.

Although the yacht buried her starboard rail at times and fairly hissed through the water, Frank did not take a reef in a single sail, for there were no squalls, and, "corinthian" though he was, he was gaining confidence in his ability to handle the White Wings.

Paula was rather timid, but Inza enjoyed every moment of the sail. With a position near Frank, who was at the wheel, she chatted and laughed, not in the least affected by the motion or the heeling of the sloop.

Remarkable to state, Browning did not remain below and sleep in his bunk, as was his custom. He came on deck, looking remarkably wide awake, and he made himself agreeable to the girls and Miss Gale.

There was not swell enough to make anyone seasick, which added to the pleasures of the cruise.

Diamond was doing his best to make himself agreeable to Paula, and she seemed to find his company acceptable, but after a time she called Bruce to her, so that she was between them.

"Don't you think Mr. Merriwell very reckless, Mr. Browning?" she asked. "Mr. Diamond insists there is no danger, but just see how frightfully the yacht tips at times?"

"Of course, I wouldn't want to frighten you, Miss Benjamin," said Bruce, giving her a significant look and winking toward Jack; "but we all know Frank Merriwell's a veritable landlubber, and he hasn't any more judgment about running a boat like this than a four-year-old youngster."

Paula looked alarmed at this, and Diamond muttered something under his breath.

When Jack was not looking, Bruce gave the Boston girl a reassuring smile, whispering:

"Not the least danger in the world, Miss Benjamin."

She looked relieved, and then a mischievous expression flitted over her face, for she understood Browning's little game. Immediately she pretended to be both frightened and indignant with Diamond.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed. "Mr. Diamond could not deceive me. I was sure there was great danger."

"Of course," said the big fellow, in his peculiar way, "we may reach Green's Landing in safety, but the chances are against it. However, if we are capsized, I shall not fail to assist you in getting to the mainland, Miss Benjamin."

"How thoughtful of you!" she murmured, nestling a bit nearer the big fellow, while Jack ground his teeth and looked as if he longed to murder somebody. "How far away is the mainland?"

"Only about five miles—a short walk. Hem! I mean a short swim."

Diamond sourly observed:

"Without doubt, you could walk it much easier than you could swim it, Mr. Browning."

"Oh, that is an easy swim," said Bruce, offhand. "I have often swam ten or fifteen miles. Without doubt, I could get Miss Benjamin safely ashore."

"It is nice to have such a wonderful swimmer near one—I feel so safe now," said Paula.

Under his breath the Virginian growled something that sounded like "confounded liar."

"Eh?" said Bruce. "What were you saying, sir?"

But Jack looked away, pretending to be interested in a distant island. He showed his anger so plainly that Paula was aroused to tease him still more, and she turned to chat confidentially with Bruce.

Jack could not stand that a great while. With a sudden assumption of having forgotten something, he politely excused himself and went below. He did not come on deck again till Green's Landing was in sight, although he missed the most captivating portion of the sail across the Eastern Bay.

As for Browning, he had started into the affair in jest, but he grew more and more interested in Paula as they talked during the sail. He found her remarkably bright and sensible and not at all "flighty." She talked to him of things in which he was interested, and he was astonished by the knowledge she displayed concerning some things of which he had not fancied she was posted in the least.

On the other hand, the Boston girl was astonished to find in Bruce, who had on first acquaintance seemed somewhat slow and dull, a fellow who was interesting in various ways, who did not talk nonsense to her the moment the opportunity offered to say something that she alone could hear, who had an air of dignity and was not at all self-conscious.

Never before in all his life had Bruce made a better appearance, and, long before Green's Landing was sighted, Paula had quite forgotten that Diamond had left them and had not returned.

There were other vessels and yachts in the harbor at Green's Landing, more of them than any of the party had expected to see there. In fact, there was an air of prosperity about the town built on the slope facing the harbor, although there were no large and attractive buildings, and the houses seemed scattered about in a helter-skelter manner.

The White Wings ran in amid the vessels and swung up her head to the wind, her anchor going over with a splash and her sails coming down as if the halyards were handled by veteran yachtsmen, instead of a lot of amateurs.

In fact, Merriwell had sailed the boat like one familiar with the Eastern Bay, seeming to fear no dangers from sunken ledges and shoals, and his air was that of a veteran yachtsman.

But he had spent hours over his chart, so that he was perfectly familiar with its appearance, and he could have drawn from memory a practically perfect chart, marking every ledge, every shoal and every island, and giving them their correct names. Having become thus familiar with the chart, it was not so strange that he had been able to sail across the Eastern Bay as if it were the open sea.

Having come to anchor, Paula was for going ashore at once, but Frank urged them to remain and take lunch on board the yacht, and Inza was pleased with the idea, so they stopped.

That was a jolly luncheon. There was plenty to eat, and plenty of light drinks, kept cool by the fresh supply of ice taken in at Bar Harbor. The sailors on board the vessels in the vicinity looked on with interest, envying the merry party.

Not all on the White Wings were merry. Jack Diamond was silent, and not once did a smile cross his face. Paula tried to cheer him up, but she did not succeed at all, and so she finally gave up in despair, again turning to Browning.

An hour after luncheon was over, Bruce and Frank set the girls and Miss Gale ashore, carrying their luggage up to the hotel, where accommodations were obtained.

"We will leave here to-morrow, if you get enough of the place in that time," said Frank, having seen them to their rooms.

He went down into the office of the hotel, where several rough-looking men were listening to the yarn of a red-headed, red-bearded man in rubber boots. Bruce seemed to be listening to the story, and, when Frank said something about going out, he grunted:

"Wait a minute."

"Yes, sir," said the red-headed man, squirting a stream of tobacco juice at the stove, which was well plastered with it already, "I have seen the critter, and I know, by huck, it ain't no lie. He's right there on the island, and if he ain't the Old Devil hisself, he's clost relation to him."

"Now, I pull my traps right down past there every day," said an old lobster fisherman, "and I swanny I ain't never seen northing of this here pesky critter. Ef Jeb warn't sech a dinged liar," with a jerk of his thumb toward the red-headed man, "I'd jest go down there myself and spend some time a-huntin' this critter with horns an' hoofs an' glarin' eyes. I'd find out what sort of a critter it was."

"Oh, yes!" returned the one who had been derisively designated as a liar, "ef you wasn't sech a darn coward, you might do something of the kind, Sile; but you are the biggest coward this side of Long Islan', so the critter down on Devil Island won't git bothered by you none to mention."

This was said with the utmost calmness, the speaker not seeming in the least excited by being called a liar, nor did the man he had designated as a coward do anything more than grunt derisively and remark:

"That's all right, Jeb. Don't nobody take no stock in what you say, and, though this yarn about a critter on Devil Island has been goin' abaout a year, I don't know a mortal bein' whose word is wu'th a cod line that ever said he saw the varmint. Whut you're looking for is notyrietiveness, an' that's why ye're tellin' such stuff."

"I know whut I seen, an' I'll swan to man that I did see the Monster of Devil Island, as folks round here call him. I'd been down to York Island in my pinkey, and was tryin' to git back here before night, but the wind died out jest at dark, an' I made up my mind I might as well hang up in Bold Island harbor as to spend half the night gittin' to the landin', an' take a chance of straddlin' a ledge. I got inter the harbor all right, an' kinder thought I'd try ter root out a few clams on Bold Island beach. My old boat laid nearer to the back of Devil Island than it did to Bold Island. I rowed off to Bold Island in my dory, but the tide was comin' in, an' I didn't git no clams to speak of. It was plum dark when I pulled back to the pinkey. Jest as I run alongside, I heered a sound that riz my hair, by huck! It was kinder like a groan and a smothered screech, an' I swan to man if it didn't seem to come right out of my pinkey! Scart! Waal, it did give me something of a jump, an' that I won't deny. If Sile had a-bin there he'd kerwollopsed. I riz right up with an oar in my hand, ready to slam it over ther head uf any dad-bum thing that wiggled round the pinkey. Jest then I heard that sound ag'in, an' I made out it come from the point of rocks that makes off inter ther harber. I looked that way, an' jest then ther consarnedest varmint I ever sot eyes onto riz right up from behind some rocks——"

"There ye go!" cried Sile, triumphantly. "Why, you was jest tellin' it was so dark ye could scarst see to the island! How was you able to see this critter jump up from behind the rocks?"

"If you'll wait till I tell the story, mebbe you'll find out."

"Humph! Go ahead with yer yarn."

"Ez I said, up jumped this critter. His face was all burnin', like fire, and his eyes was just like two black holes. Fellers what have told how his eyes shined and flashed ain't never seen him, for I'll swan his eyes was jest two black holes in his head. He waved his hands in the air, an' them hands shone fiery same as his face. Then he let out a screech that might have been heard down to ther Spoon Islands, an' away he went up over the rocks and inter the woods. Say, I ain't easy skeered, but I will admit I was a bit shaky then. I jest got inter the pinkey, pulled ther anchor, then tumbled back inter ther dory an' took ther old pinkey in tow. I wasn't very long gittin' out of Bold Island harbor, neether. I wouldn't 'a' stayed there that night fer a hundred billion dollars! I towed the pinkey clean to the Landin', an' you don't git me round Devil Island ag'in arter dark, by huck!"

"What do you think of that yarn, Browning?" asked Frank, speaking softly into the big fellow's ear.

"Huah!" grunted Bruce. "I think Sile was all right in calling Jeb a liar."

"I have heard that these fishermen are remarkable at drawing the long bow."

"And Jeb is an artist."

Some of those who had listened to the fisherman's story did not accept it with such scorn as the lobster catcher had evinced. There was a sound of excited voices when Jeb had finished, and one young fellow with a hunchback and a cunning face jumped up, crying:

"It ain't no lie, an' I'll swan ter that! I've seen ther old critter on Devil Island myself, though I ain't bin tellin' much about it, fer I knowed every dern critter on Deer Island would call me a thunderin' liar."

"There, by huck!" cried Jeb. "Now whut do you think of that? You hear whut Put Wiley has to say!"

"Oh, yes, we hear it," drawled Sile, who was calmly filling a black pipe. "But Put allwus was seein' queer things that nobody else could see. I s'pose he dreamed that he saw the demon of Devil Island."

"It waren't no dream," fiercely declared the hunchback. "I saw the critter when I was on the island—more'n that, the varmint chased me."

"Hey?" cried several, the excitement increasing.

"I'll swan to it!" declared Put, stanchly.

"When did all this take place?" asked one of the listeners.

"Last Sunday."

"And we never heard of it before? Say, Put, I never knowed you to tell anything crooked, but it's a big yarn you're givin' us now. If all this happened last Sunday, why ain't you told of it afore?"

"In the fust place, 'cause I was darn scart. In the second place, 'cause I knowed everybody'd think I was lyin'."

"How did you happen to be down there on Devil Island Sunday?"

"Last time Jerry Peg was in Bold Island harbor he said he saw a partridge fly up on the shore of Devil Island. He went ashore an' tried to shoot her. He didn't shoot her, but he said he scart up six or eight others in the thick woods. He come away without gittin' one of them. Sunday I didn't have northing to do, so I loaded up my old gun and rowed over to Devil Island. Didn't git there till three in the afternoon. Beached my dory an' hitched the painter to a tree. Wisht I hedn't hitched her arterward. Took out my old gun and went up inter ther spruces. Tramped round to ther old stone quarry one way, but didn't see northing. Turned and tramped clean roun' to t'other end of the island. Scart up two partridges and fired at 'em both. Knocked down the second one. Then I chased t'other, scarin' him up and scarin' him up, but never gittin' him, though I fired at him twict. I was mad. Said I'd stay right there an' hunt that dern partridge till ther Eastern Bay froze over, but I'd git the thing. Arter a while I couldn't fin' him at all, but I kept prowlin' round in the woods till it was beginnin' to git dark. I heard somethin' like a rustlin' under some cedars and saw somethin' move. Then I ups and fires. When I done that there was a yell that might have been heard clean down to ther Hosses. Out of them cedars came a critter that I swan was the old devil him own self! He had horns, an' he had a fiery face and hands, an' he had black holes fer eyes, jest as Jeb told it, and he had a red-hot spear of iron in his hand. He run at me to stick that spear inter me. I know he was goin' to spear me and then kerry me down below fer shootin' partridges Sunday. He waren't more'n six feet of me when I poked out my old gun an' fired the second barrel right inter his face and eyes. It never bothered him a bit. Run? Why, I flew! Never kivered ground so fast before, an' I never 'spect to ag'in. I bet sometimes I jumped as much as fifteen feet to a leap."

The speaker took out a dirty handkerchief and mopped the big drops of perspiration off his face. He was shaking with excitement, and his eyes gleamed. He showed every symptom of extreme terror as he related the story, and it seemed plain enough that he believed every word he was uttering.

"Go on!" cried several.

"I don't know how I ever got away," said the hunchback, huskily. "I do know that monster was chasin' me right through the woods, tryin' to ram his spear inter my back as if I was a flounder an' he was arter lobster bait. I managed to hold onter my old gun, though at the time I didn't know I was a-doin' of it. If I hed stopped ter think, I'd throwed the gun erway. When I came out ter ther bank nigh ter whar my dory was hitched, I made a jump that took me clean from ther top to ther bottom. It seems as if right when I was in ther air I thought how that bo't was tied with her painter, an' I rammed my hand inter my pocket fer my knife. When I got ter ther boat I had the knife in my hand. I flung ther gun in an' yanked open ther knife jest as ther critter came down over ther bank arter me, an' he sailed down where I had jumped. I saw him do it, and I know he spread out some red things like wings. I don't say they was wings, but they looked like wings. I yanked open my knife and I cut the painter. The tide was in, and the dory was afloat, which was a good thing fer me, for when I jumped in I gave her a shove that sent her away from the shore. I got ther oars inter ther water and pulled. The critter didn't chase me any arter it reached the edge of the water."

Again the excited speaker wiped his face with the soiled handkerchief, and then he sat down in a chair, as if the remembrance of the adventure had taken all the strength out of him. He was shaking all over.

Frank Merriwell and Bruce Browning looked at each other.

"How is that for a vivid imagination?" grunted the big fellow.

"It's pretty good, but he seems to believe it himself," said Frank.

"He does act that way," confessed Bruce.

"I am getting interested," declared Frank. "When I get a chance, I shall visit Devil Island."

"Where is it?"

"Not far from here, if I remember right."

"If I thought there was anything down there worth seeing, I wouldn't mind going myself," said the big Yale man; "but these fishermen are such confounded liars that you can't tell."

Those who had been listening to the story were urging the hunchback to tell some more. After a little time, he stopped wiping his face and said:

"That's all. The critter turned tail and disappeared, while I nigh pulled my arms out gittin' away. Anybody that wants to can go nosin' round Devil Island, but Put Wiley will keep away. Next time the critter'd git me sure."

"Now, whut do ye think of that, Sile Collins?" cried Jeb, triumphantly. "If I'm a liar, I ain't ther only one on Deer Island."

"Humph!" grunted Sile. "Let a yarn like this git started, an' half the folks that go near Devil Island will see this ere critter. Some folks is great at seein' such things."

But his appearance of ridicule did not disguise the fact that he had been impressed by the story of the hunchback.

"Devil Island alwus hes bin haunted," declared one of the listeners. "That's why it's deserted ter-day. The quarry ain't worked out, but the big boardin' house stands empty on the island; the house ain't occupied——"

"Sence that woman from Rockland lived in it," broke in another.

"She didn't live there long. I guess she saw things on the island that made her reddy to git off."

"Queer freak for a woman to live there all alone, anyhow," observed Jeb. "We used to see her round the house or on the shore when we run down past the island, but all to once she was gone."

"Sence then," put in a man who had not spoken before, "I've seen lights in the winders of the old boardin' house at night and in the winders of the other house, though I've never ketched a glimp of a livin' critter movin' on the island by day."

"Oh, it's haunted," nodded the one who had declared so before. "Anybody what wants to can go foolin' round there, but I'm goin' to keep away."

He rose to his feet. He was tall and thin, with a broken nose that seemed to tell the story of some fierce fight at an island dance. His starboard eye was crooked, so that it was difficult to tell just which way he was looking. He took in a fresh chew of tobacco and slouched out of the hotel.

"This is a place to see odd characters," said Merriwell.

Browning nodded.

They listened to the men who remained, and for some time there was an animated discussion about the creature on Devil Island. In the midst of it the hunchback left the room.

"I want to have a talk with that fellow," said Frank. "Come on."

They followed the hunchback outside.

"Wait a minute, if you please," called Frank, hurrying after the hunchback.

The fellow paused and turned round.

"What do ye want?" he asked.

His voice was harsh and unpleasant, and there was a suspicious look in his eyes.

"I heard your story about the creature you saw on Devil Island," said Frank.

"Waal, what of it?"

"My yacht is out there in the harbor, and I am thinking of taking her and running down to Devil Island. I have a great desire to get a look at the monster. You spoke about Bold Island harbor, and I want to find out just how to get in there and how near I can anchor to Devil Island."

The light in the eyes of the hunchback seemed to shift in a queer way as he stared at Frank. Browning had come up and was watching the fellow closely.

"You keep away from Devil Island!" almost snarled Put Wiley, as the deformed fellow had been called. "You don't know what you'll strike there, and——"

"I'll take my chances on that. All I want of you is to tell me the best place to lay while I am down there. I want the White Wings in a good harbor if a storm should come up."

"Waal, I don't tell ye northing about it. All I've got ter say is keep away."

Then, despite Frank's effort to say something more to the fellow, he hurried away.

"Well, that's a really jolly chap!" observed Browning.

"All of that," laughed Frank.

"He didn't seem to like your appearance, Merry."

"Well, I can't say that I admired his appearance."

"You will have to seek your information elsewhere."

"It wasn't so much that I wanted to find out about Bold Island harbor. I wanted to get him talking. Thought I might be able to trip him up if I got a good chance to ask him questions."

"But he wouldn't talk."

"He seemed suspicious."

They watched the hunchback go into a store. Just before passing through the door, which stood open, he turned his head and looked back.

"Wanted to see if we were following him," smiled Frank.

They walked about the village, finally returning to the hotel. As they approached the hotel Inza and Paula came out and asked to be shown around the village.

For an hour the four strolled about. From the yacht in the harbor Diamond saw them occasionally, and the Virginian's heart was throbbing with anger. He felt that he could kill Bruce Browning without a qualm of conscience.

Finally the party returned to the hotel, but, before leaving the girls, Frank had invited them to be ready for a short cruise on the yacht the following morning, and they had promised to do so.

As the boys approached the wharf beside which their boat floated, a man came toward them and spoke to them. He was the man with the crooked eye and broken nose.

"I hear you chaps are thinkin' of goin' down to Devil Island?" he said, one eye seeming to look at Frank while the other looked at Bruce. "Is that right?"

"We may go down there," answered Frank.

"To-morrow."

"Better not."

"Why?"

"It's dangerous."

"How?"

"You heard the yarns about the critter on the island, and you ought to know why."

"Those yarns are the very things that make me want to go down there," declared Frank.

The cock-eyed man looked surprised.

"You don't want to be ketched by the monster, do ye?"

"No, but we'd like to catch the monster," laughed Frank.

"You can't do that. The critter ain't human. If he ain't the devil hisself, he's one of the devil's imps."

"Well, we'd like to catch a genuine imp. If we could capture a real imp and take him to Boston or New York we could get a royal good figure for him from the manager of some dime museum. Freaks and curiosities are in great demand, and they are very scarce."

The cock-eyed man seemed astonished and disgusted.

"Why, you dern fools!" he exclaimed. "You don't 'magine you kin ketch a real imp, do ye?"

"We can give him a good hustle," answered Merry, with apparent seriousness. "He'll have to be lively if he gets away."

"I've hearn tell of how you city chaps didn't know much, but I did s'pose you knowed more'n that!" cried the man. "You'll be kerried off if you go down to Devil Island and try to chase the critter there. You'll disappear, an' you'll never be heard of ag'in."

"We'll take our chances."

"Say, I want ter tell you something. We don't say much about it round here, but most ev'rybody knows it. There was a man kem here this spring from Boston. He heard about Devil Island being haunted, and he was jest darn fool enough to want to go down there and see the spook. He went. He got some lobster ketchers to set him ashore and wait for him. They wouldn't go ashore with him, but they stayed in the boat reddy to take him on when he got reddy to leave. He never left!"

"What happened to him?"

"Who knows? 'Bout half-a-nour arter he went ashore there was the awfullest screech of agony come from somewhere on the island. Seemed jest like a man givin' a death yell. It scart them lobster ketchers so they rowed off a piece, but they waited till dark. He never come. Then they rowed off, and nothing of that air man has ever bin seen sence."

"Didn't anybody go down to the island to see if they could find him? A tree may have fallen on him, or something of that sort."

"There was six men went down from here two days arterward, an' whut do you s'pose they found?"

"The man from Boston."

"Didn't I tell ye he hadn't never been seen sence! They found a new-made grave!"

"What was in the grave?"

"They didn't wait to see, but they saw whut was at the head of the grave."

"What was that?"

"A new granite headstone."

"Yes?"

"True's I'm here. It was cut out nice an' clean, an' on it was chiseled some words."

"What were the words?"

"'Sacred to the mem'ry of Rawson Denning.'"

"Who was Rawson Denning?"

"That was the name the man from Boston sailed under!"

The cock-eyed man whispered the words, his effort plainly being to make them as impressive as possible.

"Now," said Merriwell, "you have awakened my curiosity so that nothing can keep me away from Devil Island. I wouldn't miss going down there for anything. I simply dote on mysteries, and this seems to be a most fascinating one. I am going to lay claim to it, and I'll wager something that I solve it. Hereafter the mystery of Devil Island belongs to me till I make it a mystery no longer."

"Waal, you are a fool!" snarled the cock-eyed man. "I told you this for your own good, so you might have sense enough to stay away, but you ain't got no sense in your head! Go on, if ye want to, and I'll bet you git planted side of the man from Boston!"

Then he turned round and walked away.

"It is plain enough," murmured Frank, "that you do not want us to go to Devil Island. We will go there to-morrow."

"I should guess yes!" grunted Browning. "I am feeling just like looking the place over."

Then they entered their boat and rowed off to the yacht.



CHAPTER XVIII.

THE MONSTER OF THE DEEP.

The following forenoon the White Wings sailed out of the harbor at Green's Landing, bearing beside her regular crew Miss Gale and the girls. She was bound for Devil Island, and neither the girls nor their chaperon had wished to be left behind.

It was a glorious summer day, with a medium breeze. As they ran out of the harbor Frank noticed a man at work in a lap-streak sailboat.

It was the fellow with the broken nose and the crooked eye, and he seemed to be preparing to get away. He did not even glance toward the White Wings.

Merry called Browning's attention to the man.

"There is our amiable friend who gave us the warning," he said.

"That's so," nodded Bruce. "By jingoes! that's a peculiar boat he's in. Look at her—long and narrow. Don't look as if she'd carry much sail without upsetting."

"That's right," agreed Frank. "It is a queer boat, but she has mast enough for a big spread of canvas."

They thought no more of the boat till they were in sight of Devil Island. Then Bruce saw a small boat that lay low in the water and carried her big spread of canvas in a reckless manner, although she was laying over before the wind. This boat was literally flying through the water, and it was plain enough that she was a wonderful sailer.

"Look here, Merry," said Bruce, "isn't that the lap-streak in which we saw our friend, the cock-eyed man, as we were leaving Green's Landing?"

Frank had a glass at hand, and he quickly took a survey of the flying sailboat.

"Sure as you are born!" he cried. "That is the very boat! How in the name of all that is wonderful does she stand up under that spread of sail?"

"Don't ask me," grunted Bruce. "I didn't suppose she could carry half as much."

"Look at the speed of her!" exclaimed Hodge.

"There's only one man in the boat, is there, Merry?" asked Bruce.

"I believe there is," said Frank. "Our friend with the crooked eye is steering."

"I don't see anybody else."

"Because the other person is keeping out of sight."

"What?"

"There is a man lying in the bottom of that boat."

"How do you know?"

"I saw him lift his head to look at us a few moments ago."

"That's strange."

"It's plain enough he doesn't want to be seen."

"What does it mean?"

"Don't know."

They watched the flying boat take the lead of them and saw it bear toward a distant rocky point of the island ahead. Near that point some sagging sheds could be seen. The small boat rounded the point and was hidden behind the island.

"There is Bold Island, famed for its wonderful clams, over yonder," said Frank. "Bold Island harbor must lay between that and Devil Island, but I didn't find it on the chart. However, there is a passage between the two islands which is perfectly safe at high water. We will run down in there and drop anchor as near Devil Island as possible."

They did so, finding a sheltered cove where it was plain that a boat could lay in any kind of a storm.

Close to them was the rocky shore of Devil Island. Beyond the rocks rose a high bank, upon which was a gloomy tangle of woods. There was something forbidding in the appearance of the island with the unpleasant name.

Frank and Bruce were eager to get ashore at once. As soon as the sails were cared for and things were ship-shape, they prepared to leave the yacht.

In vain Paula had tried to draw Diamond into conversation. Jack would answer her questions—he was extremely polite—but he made no attempt to be entertaining. At last, just as Frank and Bruce were preparing to enter the small boat, she left Jack and called to Inza:

"Come on!"

Then, to the astonishment of the boys, the girls came over to the rail and asked to be assisted into the boat.

"Eh?" grunted Browning. "Where are you going?"

"With you," answered Paula. "We're not going to stay here and mope with nobody to talk to. Aunt Abigail is reading in the cabin, and I don't believe she will mind."

"Perhaps you had better ask her," said Frank, weakly.

"It isn't necessary," assured Inza, quickly. "Come, help me into the boat. You lazy fellows, did you expect to get out of giving us a row? I know you don't want to pull us around, but you can't get out of it."

And then she came over the rail and leaped lightly into the boat. Browning aided Paula, after giving Frank a helpless look.

"We can't get out of it," whispered Merry. "We'll row them round a while, and then we'll bring them back to the yacht."

Bruce had brought out a repeating rifle from Frank's supply of arms in the cabin, and that was placed in the prow of the boat. Both girls sat on the stern seat.

With a double set of oars the boys pulled off from the yacht. It was a strange spectacle to see Bruce Browning handling an oar, but he had been a famous all-round athlete when he first entered Yale, and he had not forgotten how to row.

They asked the girls where they wished to go, and Paula answered:

"Oh, anywhere."

Under other circumstances, Browning might not have been so willing to pull at an oar, but he knew Diamond was gnawing his heart out, and the big fellow had developed a sudden satisfaction in tormenting the Virginian.

A distant island attracted the girls. On a ledge near it was a flock of white gulls, covering the ledge so it looked as if it were a mass of snow. They pulled toward the island.

The gulls proved shy and keen of sight, for they began to leave the ledge shortly after the boat drew away from the yacht, and half the distance to the island had not been covered before not a gull remained on the ledge.

"Didn't even get near enough for a real good shot with the rifle," grunted Bruce. "I'd like to get a shot at something."

Then he gave a cry of astonishment, took in his oars quickly, and caught up the rifle.

"What is it?" asked Frank.

"Look! look!" exclaimed the big Yale man, rising to his feet with the rifle in his hands. "There is a target for me!"

They looked in the direction indicated, and they saw something that at first seemed like a black rock. But it moved—it was swimming slowly along the surface of the water.

"A whale, by Jove!" shouted Merriwell. "Let him have it, Bruce!"

Browning lifted the rifle and took careful aim.

Crack!

He did not miss his mark. The whale was seen to give a sudden start, and then, stung by the bullet, the monster of the deep rushed straight at the boat!

"Look out!"

"He's coming!"

"My goodness!"

Not till he saw the whale start straight for the boat did Bruce Browning realize what a foolish thing he had done. It seemed that the monster was bent on the destruction of the boat and its occupants.

Merriwell uttered the first cry, which was a warning to Bruce, who was still standing, rifle in hand. Frank was going to use the oars, and he knew he would throw Bruce into the bottom of the boat by starting suddenly without warning.

The two girls uttered the other exclamations. Paula screamed and covered her face with her hands, while Inza turned pale and stared at the onrushing monster.

Frank fully realized their peril. He knew that it meant certain death to them all if the whale struck the boat, and there seemed no possible escape.

Bruce dropped down and Frank gave a surge at the oars that made the boat give a leap like a thing of life. Then Merriwell pulled as never before had he rowed, not even in the nerve-straining, soul-killing college races against Harvard.

Jump! jump! jump!—how he made the boat leap through the water! He was making the boat leap to get out of the whale's course.

Bruce tried to get his oars into the rowlocks and aid, but, for once in his life, at least, the big fellow had lost all his coolness, and he lost an oar overboard.

"He'll strike us!"

"We're lost!"

"Hold fast!"

Frank continued to pull, but he was ready to drop the oars and make a leap for Inza the moment the boat was struck.

"I'll do my best to save her!" he mentally exclaimed.

Still he knew the shock would hurl them far into the water, while the boat would be shattered in pieces. He might be stunned—he might be instantly killed.

For all that Inza stared straight at the whale, it is probable that she realized their terrible peril far better than Paula, who was so frightened that she covered her eyes with her hands.

Frank began to realize that there was a possibility of getting out of the way if the whale did not change its course. He strained every nerve—he pulled for life.

"Thank Heaven!"

Browning gasped the words, for the monster had not swerved from its original course, and it dashed past the boat some distance astern.

Even then Frank was not satisfied that the danger was past. He expected to see the whale stop, turn about and rush at them again.

Nothing of the kind happened. The monster was headed straight for the distant passage that led out between the islands toward the lower bay and the open sea. He seemed to be in a great hurry, too, for he made the water fly as he sped along, the waves in his wake causing the little boat to rock when he had passed.

Merriwell stopped pulling and sat watching the whale, never uttering a word till it had passed out of sight far down the bay. Then he turned and observed:

"It's plain enough that he doesn't consider it healthy around here, and he is in a hurry to get away."

There was a smile on his face, and he seemed quite undisturbed by what had happened.

"Oh, Frank!" cried Inza, "what if he had struck us?"

"He would have bumped his nose."

"Oh, how can you joke now!"

"Now is the time to joke. I didn't have time to think of a joke a little while ago."

Browning dug himself out of the bottom of the boat, hoisted his huge body to a seat, and drew a deep breath of relief.

"A man who shoots at a whale with a rifle is a thundering fool!" he observed.

"And a man who tells him to shoot is another," laughed Frank.

"That is my first adventure with a whale," said the big Yale man, "and, if I have my way about it, it will be my last."

"Is—is he really gone?" faltered Paula, looking around.

"Yes, Miss Benjamin," assured Frank, "he has departed in the direction of Greenland."

"And he didn't touch the boat?"

"If he had we'd be enjoying a swimming match for the yacht now."

"If he had," said Inza, "some of us would have been killed right away, and the rest of us would have been drowned."

"Let's go back to the yacht!" urged the trembling Paula, her voice choking.

"I am quite ready," said Inza. "I don't care about going over to that island now."

So Frank pulled back to the floating oar, and then the boat was headed toward the White Wings.

Merriwell did his best to restore the girls' spirits. He joked and laughed, and before the yacht was reached he had almost convinced them that they had been in no great danger.

"But, oh, it gave me such a fright!" said Paula. "Just to see that huge creature coming through the water straight toward us! It was awful!"

Frank was chosen as the one to relate the adventure to Miss Gale, for the girls were aware that she might scold them for leaving the yacht without her consent, and Frank could make it all right with her.

Hans was on deck, but he had not seen their adventure with the whale, although he had heard the report of the rifle, for he cried as they approached:

"Vot you shooted? I heard der gun ven id fired you off."

"We shot a large seabird," answered Frank; "but the varmint got away from us."

"Vot kindt up a pird vos a varmint?" asked Hans. "You don'd remember dot I haf efer seen von, do I?"

"It is large enough to make a fish chowder," explained Merry.

"Vot vos I gifin' you?" cried Hans. "Who efer heart a pird uf dot could make a vish-chowter! I vos guyin' you, I oxpect."

Browning threw him the painter as they came alongside, and soon the girls were safely on the yacht.

"Come back as soon as you have fixed it with Miss Gale," said Bruce, "and we will go onto the island and investigate."

Frank nodded and then went below. In a few minutes he came out laughing and assured the girls that it was all right. Then he dropped into the boat again, and soon he and Browning were on Devil Island.

They pulled the boat up on the beach and made it fast. Frank took the rifle, and Bruce looked at his revolver, which he had slipped into his pocket before leaving the yacht the first time. The White Wings was riding at anchor within easy speaking distance of the shore.

"Which way shall we go?" asked Bruce.

"The buildings are on the other side of the island," said Merry. "Let's go straight across."

"All right."

They found a path by which they could climb the bank, making it plain that human beings had traveled on the island not a little at some time, even if the place was deserted then.

Following the path a short distance, they came to three small camps built of logs. The camps were not in a very pleasant location, although it was a sheltered spot.

After looking around the huts a few minutes, they turned from the path and struck straight up through the woods, which were thick and dark. Beneath their feet twigs crackled and the dead leaves of a year before sometimes rustled where they had piled together but had not rotted. The woods were dark and in places the ground was covered by moss, so that their feet made not a sound.

Higher and higher they climbed, till they came out into a natural opening that was surrounded by the gloomy trees. This seemed close to the highest ground on the island, which could be seen rising rocky and bare through the trees at one side of the glade.

And in the midst of the glade was a grave that had not been made many months, and a granite stone stood at the head.

"It's the grave the cock-eyed man told us of!" exclaimed Frank. "Let's look at the stone."

They approached the grave, and Frank bent down to look at the stone. As the cock-eyed man had said, on it were the words:

"Sacred to the memory of Rawson Denning."

As Merry was looking at the headstone it seemed that a voice in the air above them hoarsely whispered:

"Dead and buried!"



CHAPTER XIX.

IN THE DARK WOODS.

"Eh?" gasped Browning, amazed. "What was that?"

"Dead and buried!"

Again that mysterious, awesome, uncanny whisper that seemed to float in the air. They looked around, they looked upward, they saw nothing but the blue sky above the leaves and somber trees that surrounded them.

"Dead and buried!"

Now it seemed to come from the ground—seemed to issue from the grave before them! It was as if the dead man hidden away down there had uttered the words.

Frank Merriwell shrugged his shoulders, while his companion shivered and felt for his revolver. A cold chill swept over the big Yale man, as if he felt the touch of a dead hand. He was awed despite the fact that there was nothing superstitious in his character.

They listened, expecting to hear the whispers again, but there was such a silence in the woods as seemed to press down on them like a crushing weight. Not even a breath of a breeze reached the spot to rustle the trees, and no sound of the surf chafing against the distant rocky shore reached their ears.

It seemed at that moment that they alone were the only human living creatures on that uncanny island. A sense of desolation came upon them and made them feel as if they were far, far from human beings, buried as in the heart of a mighty desert.

They did not stir; they stood there listening.

Silence.

Once, far on a Western desert, Browning had experienced the same feeling of loneliness, but then there was not the grewsome, ghostly fear that now clutched at his heart and chilled its beatings so it seemed to be struggling feebly like an imprisoned bird fluttering against the cruel bars of a cage.

The big fellow choked. There seemed to be a lack of pure air for him to breathe. He longed to cry out, but his tongue lay stiff and paralyzed in his mouth.

Then came the thought that some uncanny spell was being wrought about him, and that soon he would be body and soul in the power of the evil spirit of the island.

With a mighty effort he moved, he spoke, he said:

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

His voice was husky and hoarse, so that he was startled by its sound. Merriwell glanced toward him, lifting a hand with a gesture that warned to silence, while he bent his head toward the grave and listened.

For some moments both stood still, and again Browning felt that strange spell stealing upon him, as if hypnotic eyes were peering out from the shadows and looking down into his soul. He shook himself, he even looked around in search of those eyes; but he saw nothing save the dark, gloomy woods and the funereal shadows.

Frank straightened up. There was a queer look on his face.

"Did you hear it?" he asked, in a whisper.

"Of course I heard it," answered Browning, thinking he spoke of the whisper. "The words came to my ears distinctly."

"No, no; I did not mean the whisper."

"Then what did you mean? I heard no other sound."

"It is strange, for I fancied I heard it distinctly."

"Where did the sound come from?"

Without a word, Merriwell pointed downward toward the grave. There was a look on his face that made his companion shiver.

Bruce swallowed down the lump in his throat.

"I am a fool!" he thought. "I am ashamed of such childish fears!"

Then he forced himself to distinctly ask:

"What kind of a sound did you think you heard?"

"A rustle—a movement. It was as if the body down there had turned restlessly in its bed of earth!"

Never did Bruce forget how those words sounded in the deep silence of the black woods. Never did he forget the sensation of unutterable horror that they brought with a shock to his soul. He stared at Frank, his jaw dropping, while awful thoughts ran riot in his brain.

They had heard the whispered words, "dead and buried," which at first seemed to float in the air, and then appeared to come up from the grave before them. Browning fancied the dead lips down there uttering those words. He fancied the murdered man turning restlessly in his cold, dark bed—turning, twisting, unable to rest till he had been avenged.

What thoughts fled through Frank Merriwell's brain? Surely he was besieged by uncanny fancies, but never in all his life was he more on the alert. The very air of mystery that surrounded him was a stimulant. He had solved many mysteries, and now he was determined to solve this one.

Down the slope in the shadows of the dark woods below there was a rustling sound. Quick as a flash, Merriwell wheeled, rifle in hand, and bounded in that direction.

Browning did not care to be left there alone beside that grave, and he followed Frank in a hurry. He saw Merry disappear amid the trees, heard a sudden chattering, and then there was a flash of fire and the clear report of a rifle. Frank had fired at something while he was on the run.

The big Yale man crashed into the woods and came upon his friend, who was stooping to pick up a dead squirrel.

"I rather think this fellow made the rustling that seemed to come from the grave," said Merry. "I was deceived by my ears, that is all. As I ran in under the trees here I could not resist the temptation to take a shot at him, for he was running, too. Now," he slowly added, gazing sadly at the dead squirrel, "I wish I had not fired."

"Oh, it's nothing but a squirrel," said Bruce. "If I could make such a shot as that I'd be proud of it."

"I am not proud, only sorry," said Frank, as he gently placed the squirrel on a soft bed of moss. "Look at the little fellow, Bruce! A few moments ago he was full of life, happy and free; now he is dead, killed by a cruel brute of a man! I didn't think I'd hit him, but that is no excuse. I ought not to have tried. Somewhere he has a home, a nest, a mate, perhaps little ones. He'll never return to his soft nest, never again will he scamper through the woods, leaping from bough to bough, playing hide-and-seek through the brush and the leaves. He is dead, and I killed him. Bruce, this one thoughtless, hasty act of mine lies like a sore weight on my conscience. I'll not forget it in a week. It will trouble me—it will haunt me."

Frank's voice was rather husky with emotion and his handsome face betrayed his deep feeling of sorrow, and Bruce Browning, who was not cruel or hard-hearted, but who would have killed a squirrel and never given it a second thought, now began to realize that there might be something wrong in the act.

"Oh, it's nothing to make a fuss over," he said, quickly.

"Yes, it is," declared Frank, sincerely. "That little squirrel never harmed me, but I murdered him. He was one of God's creatures, and I had no right to lift my hand against him. I feel like a brute, a wretch, a murderer!"

Then Frank knelt down on the moss beside the dead squirrel.

"Oh, little squirrel!" he said, his voice breaking into a sob; "how much I would give could I restore your life to you! But I have killed you, and all my regret and sorrow over the act will not bring you back to scamper and frolic through the woods."

To his astonishment, Bruce felt a misty blur come over his eyes, and there was a choking sensation in his throat.

"Come away, Merry—come and leave it!" he exclaimed, thickly. "Don't be a fool!"

"No," said Frank, "I can't leave him this way."

He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped the squirrel in it, doing so with such gentleness that Bruce wondered more and more. Then he searched about till he found a thin, flat rock that was about a foot long and four inches wide. With that rock Merriwell scooped a grave in the ground. That grave he lined with soft bits of moss, and then he took the squirrel, wrapped in the handkerchief shroud, and placed it in the grave. The earth was thrown in on the little body, and heaped up in a mound till it was a tiny model of the grave in the glade above. Then Frank thrust the flat rock into the ground as a headstone, and a tear dropped silently down.

Browning had turned away. The big fellow had been taught a lesson he would not soon forget, and more than ever he admired and respected Frank Merriwell, who could be as brave as a lion or as gentle as a dove.

"Come."

Frank had arisen. Bruce followed him from the spot.

They did not climb the rise and again enter the glade that contained the mysterious grave, but Frank led the way down through the woods till they came out to the rocky shore of the island, along which ran the path they had left some time before. Now they struck into this path and followed it round the island.

Not a word passed between them till they came to the old granite quarry. There on their right the bluff of rock rose nearly a hundred feet in the air, with cedars growing away up on the heights. There were drill marks on the face of the rock. A weed-grown railroad ran into the quarry, and on the track sat a flat car, loaded with granite.

"By jingoes!" exclaimed Browning. "It's plain enough there was some business done here some time."

Frank looked at the face of the broad wall of granite.

"I wonder why they ceased quarrying it?" he speculated.

"I suppose the fishermen would say it was because the island was haunted."

"More likely because the granite was not of the best quality. Now that stone does not look to me as if it is first class. It seems to me it is poor granite, and that is why the quarry was abandoned."

"Guess you are right," nodded Bruce.

They walked along the track which led out of the quarry and down toward some sagging sheds, in which they could see other flat cars.

When the sheds were reached, they turned to the right and saw at a distance a house. Beyond the house was a large square building with many windows. Not far from the car sheds was an old wharf.

"There is the house where the boss must have lived," said Merry; "and beyond it is the boarding house for the laborers."

"Let's go look them over," said Bruce, who seemed remarkably energetic for him.

So they walked over to the house. It was securely locked, and the windows were fastened down. Near the house was a well, from which they drew water and took a drink from an old dipper that hung on a rusty nail driven into the curb.

From the house a path led down toward the boarding house. They walked down there and could look down into a beautiful little cove close at hand.

"Why didn't we run in there and anchor, instead of anchoring away round back of the island?" said Bruce.

"Simply because no one mentioned this cove, and I did hear Bold Island harbor mentioned," answered Frank.

In the distance they could see three or four white sails. Far away beyond a group of islands rose a trail of smoke that told some small steamer was passing. A gull was circling over the cove, and a black crow cawed dismally from the top branch of a tall spruce.

For all that the sun was in the sky, there was something oppressively lonely and deserted about Devil Island.

"Let's try the doors here," suggested Bruce.

The front door was fastened, but they found a back door that they were able to force open, as the nails that held it had rusted in the rotten wood till they readily bent before the pressure.

"I don't know as we have any right to go in here," said Frank.

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Bruce. "The place is deserted."

"Somebody owns it."

"According to the yarns of the fishermen, it is owned by a monster with blazing face and black holes for eyes."

"None of them told of seeing the monster anywhere around this building. He was seen in the woods or on the other side of the island."

"I think we'll see him here just as quick as anywhere," grinned Bruce, who had thrown off the uncanny feeling that had possessed him as they stood beside the grave in the woods.

"Those stories were not told for nothing," declared Frank.

"Why were they told?"

"I don't know—not yet."

"But you have an idea?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"I rather fancy somebody wishes to keep people away from this island for some reason."

"I thought the same thing."

"What that reason can be I do not know."

"But, Frank," said Bruce, hesitatingly, "you heard something as we stood beside that grave up there in the woods?"

"Yes."

"A whisper?"

"Sure."

"What did it say?"

"'Dead and buried.'"

"Then it was not imagination, for we both heard the same thing. Now how do you explain that?"

"Somebody whispered the words."

"Where was that somebody?"

"You know just as well as I do; but those words were whispered for our ears to hear. We heard them."

"I do not believe in ghosts any more than you do, Merriwell, but I will admit that there was a mighty queer feeling came over me as we stood there near that grave."

"I felt it," confessed Frank. "Had I believed in ghosts, I should have been badly frightened."

"Well, let's look this building over. We may find something in here."

So they began to explore the old boarding house. It was a large building, and they climbed the stairs to the second story, where none of the windows were boarded up. Up there were the rooms where the laborers had slept. They looked through them all, but found nothing of interest. At last they stopped by a window and looked out upon the water.

"By Jove!" exclaimed Merriwell. "Look down there!"

"What is it?"

"A boat."

"Where?"

"Beyond the land at the other side of the cove. It's laying close in to shore. See the mast?"

"Yes, I see it now. Why, it almost seems aground! Wonder what it's there for?"

"Whoever was in the boat has come ashore on the island."

"Then why didn't he run into the cove down here?"

"Because the boat would be seen in the cove, and where it lays it is not liable to be seen from the island."

"Why should anybody wish to come onto the island here and not be seen?"

"I don't know, but I'll wager something that that is the lap-streak sailboat belonging to our friend, the cock-eyed man. If I am right, he is somewhere on this island."

"He warned us not to come here."

"Yes. He told us what happened to the Boston man who came here. It was plain to me that he wanted us to keep away. He ran down ahead of us, and he is on the island. Why should he care to frighten us away? Why should he hurry to get here ahead of us? I tell you, old man, this is a mystery worth solving."

Bruce grunted. He felt that Merriwell was right, but he realized it might not be an easy thing to solve the mystery of the island.

The big Yale man stood looking out of the window and watching the boat, while Frank continued his investigations. Merriwell wandered from room to room, and at last descended the stairs again.

"If he gets an idea that there is really a wonderful mystery here," muttered Bruce, "he will stay till he has solved it if he spends the remainder of the summer in this vicinity. Never saw a fellow who took such an interest in anything mysterious."

The wind was rising again. It rattled a window, and somewhere about the building it made a loose board clap, clap, clap, in a way that made Browning think of clods falling on a coffin.

All at once, somewhere down below in the old building, a shriek rang out, startling, shrill, wild and awful. It froze the blood in Browning's veins and seemed to cause his hair to stand upon his head. Following the shriek came—silence!



CHAPTER XX.

FRANK SEES THE MONSTER.

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.