"Look out, Danny boy," cautioned Tom, "or you'll scratch the sides
of the canoe on those bushes right ahead."

Dan glanced up with a start, backing water. They had now passed
in under the shadow of trees, for the sun was low, and it was
somewhat dark and gloomy in there.

"It's queer for bushes to be growing so far out from shore," muttered
Tom, "and it shows how shallow the water must be about here.
You had better back water out of here, Danny."

Dalzell was about to do so when his glance fell on something that
halted his arm.

In the same moment Tom Reade saw the object that had arrested
Dan's attention.

From between the bushes peered a pair of deep-set, frightened
eyes that looked out from the haggard, despairing face of a man
whose head alone was visible.

Just for the moment neither Tom nor Dalzell could really guess
whether the face belonged to the living or the dead. The sight
caused cold shivers to run up and down their spines, for that
face was ghastly and haunting in the extreme.

But quickly Tom Reade found his voice sufficiently to ask huskily:

"What's your trouble, my friend?"