as he stood in the doorway of the tent.

"That comes from the former camp site," chuckled Tom.

"Guns!" cried Dave Darrin in amazement.

"It sounds like a big fusillade," Dick cried, as he stepped out
into the night.

"But surely no one can be trying to attack our camp, thinking
we are still there," Tom protested. "We don't know any people
who are wicked enough to plan an attack upon our camp."

"No," Dick agreed. "But this much is sure. There are those who
dislike us enough to try to spoil our rest night after night."

Dave began to laugh merrily.

"I half believe it's Dodge and Bayliss," he remarked quietly.

"I don't," Reade objected. "Both of them are too lazy to motor
up into the wilderness each night, over such rough roads, all
the way from Gridley. No, no! It's someone else, though who
it is I can't imagine. If it were the man of the lake mystery,
or any of his people, they'd be likely to know that we're on this
side of the lake."

From the edge of the timber line near by came the sound of a crackling
twig, followed by a groan as of a soul in torment.