the beach. Loudly and again and again he called, "Oh! Dave," and "Oh, David MacLester!"

No answer came to his despairing cries. Softly the water lapped the sand at his feet. In the distance the frogs were croaking. Darkness too deep to let even the outlines of the farther shore be seen hung over Opal Lake and distinctly on the light breeze now springing up came the odor of burning pine.

"If we only had another boat!" murmured Paul. "There's the skiff down by the clubhouse," he meekly suggested.

"Why," said Billy, "our old boat was safe enough! I can't believe they ever left the other side. That's where we've got to get to. We can go around the east end of the lake in about half an hour's walk."

Phil Way was never so perplexed–never so at a loss to know what to do. Looked to as the leader and the captain in all things, he usually was quick to suggest, quick to decide and quite generally for the best. His heart–his nerve–whatever it is that keeps the mind steady and alert at such time–came nearer failing him now than ever before.

All the boys, Chip included, were on the beach. Several times Phil's cries had been repeated by the others. At last–

"We must get the skiff," Way declared. "If Dave's on dry land we can find him when daylight comes, if not before. But if he's holding on to an upset boat, though too weak to answer us, maybe, we've got to find him right off."

Leaving Paul to guard the camp and keep a bright fire burning, Billy and Phil, with Chip accompanying them, were soon running toward the old clubhouse. They carried the oil lamps from the car and thus made good progress. But the skiff was found dry and seamy. It would be necessary for one or another to keep bailing constantly, they saw, the moment they launched her.

And where were the oars? In their excitement the boys had not noticed the absence of this very necessary equipment until the boat was in the water. With frantic haste they searched here and there. The rays of their lamps were far from powerful and close inspection of each nook and corner must be made to see what might be there.

The excessive stillness, the atmosphere of loneliness and melancholy that hung always about the Point and its deserted buildings seemed intensified tonight. The shadows cast by the two lamps seemed unnaturally gaunt and ghostly. With all their activity the three lads could not but be impressed by these things, but they were too occupied to be frightened by them.

"At last!" Phil's voice came low but quick. In another moment he drew a pair of oars from behind an unused door whose lower panels a charge of buckshot had shattered, apparently, and which was now stored in a corner of the automobile shed.

"Whatever will we bail with?" asked Billy, finding the skiff already to have taken considerable water.

"I know," came a prompt answer and Slider disappeared in the darkness. From behind the garage he brought in a few seconds two empty tin cans. "There's no end of 'em among some weeds back there if we need more," he said.

"No! You keep bailing, Chip, and you, Billy, hold the lights! Off we go!" and Phil shoved away the moment all were fairly on board. From the black shore line to the east they could see the campfire shedding a bright light for a little distance over the waters; but except for this and the rays of the auto lamps Worth held the darkness was like pitch.

"Paul's blaze will be our light-house. We want to hit toward the middle of the lake, just about opposite the camp, then straight over to the far side," spoke Way, breathing fast. "Keep me guided right, Bill." He was pulling hard.

The incoming water kept Slider more than busy. With a can in each hand he scooped to right and left. Worth found it necessary to give Phil very few directions for Way was a splendid oarsman and the light craft swept forward rapidly.

Every minute or two Billy sang out MacLester's name. Eagerly he scanned the water as far as the lamp rays fell, but heard nothing, saw nothing.

Not until the north shore was almost reached did Phil slow down. Then he let the boat drift forward easily while watching for a landing place. "Raise the lamp higher," he called over his shoulder.

Billy did so and as the skiff floated nearer the quite steep bank rising from the water at this point, there came suddenly into the lighted circle a flat bottomed fishing boat. It was the scow MacLester had used and it was empty.