s go and see."

"All right; it will dry my legs," replied Fred. And, getting up, the
two lads made their way down to the head of the little bay nearest to
the house, and then worked along among the alders which hung over the
lake till they came to the part of the old forest Scarlett had named--an
evergreen patch of about an acre, on which stood a dozen or two of the
finest trees in the park.

"Why," cried Scarlett, "I remember old Dee--"

"Nat's father?"

"Yes--saying that there once used to be a boathouse down here."

"Then, why didn't we look there first?"

"Because it was not a likely place, all that distance away."

Neither did it seem a likely place now, as they climbed over a rough,
moss grown fence, and entered the unfrequented spot, to find old masses
of rock peering out of the soil, ancient trees coated with ivy, and an
abundance of thick undergrowth such as they had been fighting with a
short time before.

The task was less difficult, and they spent the next half-hour hunting
along the edge of the lake, whose shore here was for the most part high
and rocky, but broken here and there by shrubby patches of gorse and
heather, in company with fine old birches, whose silvery trunks were
reflected in the lake.

"I knew you were wrong," said Fred at last, as he sat down in a sunny
spot to let his legs dry, "it couldn't be here."

"Why not?"

"Because, if it were here, we should have found it."

Scarlett said nothing, but stood at the edge of the rocky bank, now
looking down into the water, now toward the bushes which were
overhanging the lake. There were plenty of rather likely places, but
none quite likely enough, and reluctantly agreeing at last that he might
have been mistaken, he turned slowly away from the ivy covered
perpendicular bank, and sauntered slowly back with his companion in
silence.

"My legs are getting drier now," said Fred, suddenly. "What do you
say--shall we fetch a lanthorn, and go down into the passage?"

"I don't see what you want with dry legs, if you are going to wade,"
replied Scarlett, thoughtfully.

"You don't want to go."

"Yes, I do."

"You're afraid."

"Perhaps so," replied Scarlett; "but you are not, so let's go and get
the lanthorn."

A quarter of an hour later, the lanthorn was secretly obtained, lighted,
and a supply of pieces of candle included, and then the question arose,
How were they to get it down to the little wilderness unseen?

"Somebody woul