"Can't! The battery's on a strike," answered Reade grimly.

Dick Prescott, who was ahead of his companions, now halted, whispering
to the others to do the same.

The man they sought had vanished. No betraying sounds came to
indicate where he had gone.

"Dave and I'll stay here," whispered Dick. "Tom, run back for
a lantern. Hustle!"

Fifteen minutes of eager searching, after the lantern was brought,
failed to give any clue to the whereabouts of the man whom they
sought.

"This is more ghostly than human," laughed young Prescott.

They felt compelled to give up the search. As they returned to
the camp the firing on the opposite side of the lake broke out
anew. At the distance, however, it was not loud enough to disturb
the other three, who still slept in the tent. Dick flashed the
lantern inside to make sure that the sleepers were safe.

At intervals the racket across the lake broke out anew.

"It's my turn to go on watch again," said Darry, glancing at his
watch by the light of the lantern. "You two might as well turn
in."