The High School Boys' Fishing Trip Part 20

"No powder mills in this part of the world," he declared. "But, gracious! The explosion seemed big enough."

Tom Reade stepped over to Prescott, whispering in the latter's ear:

"What if this is another chapter in the lake mystery that we struck this afternoon?"

"That's possible," nodded d.i.c.k.

"What are you two fellows whispering about?" called Hazelton.

"We're using whispers in case there's anyone else near enough to hear speaking voices," Prescott explained in a low tone.

That was enough to fan the curiosity of the others, who, partially dressed, crowded about Prescott and Reade.

Leaving the lantern in the tent, d.i.c.k & Co. gathered in the darkness in the open air.

"What do you make of it, d.i.c.k?" Dave asked.

"Just as much as you fellows do---no more," came the reply.

"If it isn't anything that carries danger to us," proposed Darrin, "we may as well go back and to bed."

"All who are sleepy enough may go back and turn in," Prescott suggested. "I'll stay up and watch for a while."

"So will I," promised Reade.

But it turned out that none of the party wanted to sleep. Even Darrin said he was interested enough in this newest mystery to stay up and try to fathom it.

"Whatever it is," smiled d.i.c.k, "it hasn't done us any harm."

"Oh, yes; there has been one casualty, at least," protested Holmes.

"The explosion has caused a compound fracture in my b.u.mp of curiosity."

"There don't seem to be any more explosions," suggested d.i.c.k Prescott, after a few moments had pa.s.sed, and some of the boys were yawning.

"Anyone want to turn in?"

No one wished to do so, however.

"If we can't find out anything to-night," murmured d.i.c.k, in a low voice, "we'll at least make a strong effort in that direction after breakfast to-morrow morning."

"We have the lake mystery on for after breakfast," urged Hazelton.

"There's probably a connection between the lake mystery and the big explosions," whispered Tom Reade wisely. "Fellows, I've a notion that Danny Grin and I unintentionally b.u.mped into someone else's business of some queer kind. Now the people who are peevish with us are trying to chase us out of these woods. At least, that's my idea."

"It will take something more than noise to chase us," smiled d.i.c.k coolly. "Our ear drums are as sound as the next fellow's. Just the same, I wish we might find out something about this mystery.

If there's another explosion like that last one, then some of us ought to travel straight in the direction of the noise."

"And run straight into the hard, swift punch that is behind that noise!" muttered Danny Grin, with one of those facial contortions that had earned him his nickname.

"Whoever starts to playing with a boy's curiosity must be ready to abide by the consequences," chuckled Prescott. "Now, if anyone has started something against us, then we'll run the rascal to the earth."

"You don't suppose it's Dodge's work?" whispered Greg.

Before d.i.c.k could answer Darrin broke in with an emphatic:

"Not much! The lake mystery affair is one of too large calibre for Bert Dodge's poor, anaemic brain. There's something bigger and smarter than a mere Dodge behind the doings of this night."

"It's one o'clock, fellows," said d.i.c.k, after walking over to the lantern for a glimpse at his watch. "Tom, Greg and I will stay up until three o'clock and be ready to jump out together at the first sign of anything happening. The rest of you turn in and get some sleep. We'll call you at three o'clock and then take our turn at the pillow."

"You'll call us, of course, if anything happens?" asked Dave.

"If another powder mill blows up," chuckled Tom, "you won't need to be called. You'll be out here on the jump."

Dave, Dan and Harry thereupon turned in. Knowing that others were on watch the trio in the tent were all sound asleep within five minutes.

Only the sighing of the wind through the trees, the occasional splash of a leaping fish in the lake, and the subdued, musical hum of tiny night insects came to the ears of d.i.c.k and his fellow watchers.

Greg was soon yawning. Tom, for want of something better to do, began describing all over again the strange apparition he and Dalzell had seen that afternoon. Greg, finding the "creeps" in Tom's narration to be stronger than the interest, s.h.i.+vered and withdrew to a spot beyond the reach of Tom's whispers.

Not long after Greg, his back propped against a tree trunk, was sound asleep.

Tom liked to talk. Prescott was a good listener, putting in a question now and then.

So at least another hour pa.s.sed. Then-----

Boo-oom!

That crash was so close at hand that it seemed as though the earth must open.

Tom's first startled glance was at the sky. Then, with a whisking sound, several fragments of something pa.s.sed over their heads.

"We're being bombarded?" gasped Tom inquiringly.

"This is getting too noisy to be interesting," protested Greg, waking and leaping over to the place where his chums stood.

"I thought you fellows were going to put a stop to that racket!"

complained Darry from the tent.

d.i.c.k Prescott's whole thought and effort had been centered on the task of placing the location of that latest explosion.

"You fellows look after the camp," d.i.c.k called in a low voice to those in the tent. "Come on, Tom and Greg!"

His two chums hurried to overtake him as the young leader rushed off in the darkness. Prescott was traveling up the slope in a direction that ran in an oblique line from the lake front.

"Are you sure it was just exactly in this direction?" whispered Reade, as he reached d.i.c.k's side.

"In this direction as nearly as I could judge," d.i.c.k affirmed.

For some moments they traveled onward. Then they halted to listen.