re was safe; but he
would not remove it from the hiding place until he was prepared to leave,
he had decided. Now he was ready.

And where was Murky?

As a matter of fact, from his concealment among the bushes near by, he
was trying to decipher the room upstairs that this lone visitor to the old
house would probably occupy. He had lost sight of Grandall when the latter
had quickly entered and gone to the cellar. But it was only for a little
while that the scowling eyes searched the open door and the windows in
vain.

As Grandall came up to the living-room carrying the discolored suit-case,
he glanced quickly all about him. Possibly some sense of his guilt came to
his mind now that the evidence of his theft was squarely in his hands,
and for the first time he appeared apprehensive. Yet he paused only for
a few seconds. He saw to it that all the first floor doors were bolted
from within, and slowly climbed the stairs to the sleeping rooms above.

As if quite at home the man entered that room whose long, low window
opened upon the little balcony toward the lake. He smoothed down the
mattress and brought a blanket from an adjoining chamber. Opening the
window wide, for these upper rooms were very close and warm, he drew the
suit-case to the better light he thus admitted and proceeded to count the
money it contained.

The night was hot, the air seemed stifling, but when he had satisfied
himself as to the amount of the treasure, Grandall returned the packages
of bills and the bag of gold and silver pieces to their places, then
closed and locked the window. He locked his chamber door also, before
lying down to sleep. As if that could save him now!

CHAPTER VIII

DAVE MACLESTER'S ADVENTURE

It required no little courage for Dave MacLester to row across the dark
waters of the lake to the darker woods of the north shore. Had there
been someone to go with him he would have answered the cries for aid
much more willingly. But since either he or Chip must remain in camp,
Davy set out alone, pretty gloomily, pulling the heavy scow with what
speed he could.

MacLester was far from being a coward but by nature he was more timid
than calm, self-possessed Phil Way, or bold and venturesome Paul Jones.
With a keen sense of duty and resolute determination to overcome every
thought of fear, however, he ran the scow against the steep bank of the
lake's far shore.

The voice that had guided Dave across the water greeted him