Slowly, like a thing materializing from thin air, a white figure resembling a human being appeared before their staring eyes. It remained standing close to the border of the dark pines, motionless, but seeming to become more and more distinct as they stared at it in stony silence. And now their teeth were chattering, beyond question. “I guess you’re right, Sleuth,” Crane finally gulped; “that supper will spile if we don’t get to camp as soon as we can.” With something like frantic haste and vigor they wielded the paddles. CHAPTER XV. THE MYSTERIOUS LIGHT. When they ventured again to look toward the island the white figures had disappeared; but presently they heard, for the fourth time, the blood-chilling howling of the dog, which ended in a sinking, quavering wail that, to their overwrought imagination, resembled a dying moan of agony. Not until they were approaching the camp and the cheerful fire which gleamed welcomingly across the water did they exchange further words. The firelight shone on the snowy tent, and they could see their friends moving about. Then it was that Piper dogmatically asserted: “There are no such things as ghosts.” “Perhaps that’s so,” admitted Sile, with a touch of resentment; “but I’d certainly like to know what it was we heard and saw.” “Think we’d better say anything about it?” “If yeou’ve got the idee that I ain’t goin’ to tell the other fellers, there’s another guess comin’ to yeou.” “They’ll chaff us.” “I don’t give a hoot for that. I’m goin’ to tell ’em the plain, straight truth, and they can chaff as much as they please.” One of the boys came out to the extremity of the point, cupped his hands to his mouth and sent a halloo across the water. His figure made a black silhouette against the firelight. “That’s Grant,” said Crane. “They’re gettin’ nervous abaout us. Oh! ho! Here we are! We’re comin’!” “Well, it’s time you were,” flung back the Texan. “Hike along some.” Grant and Springer met them as the prow of the canoe grounded on the sandy beach. “Wha-what luck?” asked Phil. “I got one,” answered Sile. “Only one? Well, what the dickens kept you so long?” “Only one,” returned the successful angler defiantly; “but yeou wait till yeou see him. He’s a baby. Come on to the fire and look him over. We’ve got a heap to tell ye, too.” Silently Piper followed them to the fire, where Crane proudly displayed his catch, swelling with importance as he listened to the admiring comments of the three lads who had remained behind. “What did you get, Sleuth?” asked Stone, after stooping to turn a big brown loaf of frying pan bread, which had been placed on edge and propped up before a glowing bed of coals. “Nothing,” answered Piper, who had flung himself wearily upon the ground. “We only had one strike all the time we were out, and it was just Crane’s luck to get that and land his fish.” “I’m sus-surprised,” said Springer. “Why, I thought you——”