"Yes, sir."

"Then, Mr. Renshaw, get up and hide that pistol somewhere. While you're
about it, listen to me. Some scoundrel has blown out a large portion of
our retaining wall to-night. I left Hazelton on guard at the point and
came ashore to get out the motor boat, 'Morton.' Before I could return
I heard Hazelton's call for help, and---he has disappeared! There's
wicked work on hand to-night. You'll have to get up and help me. Be quick
with your dressing. We've work to do to-night, and all of it is man's
work."

Tom hastily added such other particulars as were needed. Renshaw, while
he dressed hurriedly, listened with a horror that he took no pains to
conceal.

"Evarts claims that it's revenge work, on the part of some of our men,
because Hazelton and I stopped gambling in the camp," Tom continued.

"It might be," Renshaw admitted thoughtfully. "But to me it seems that
there must be a lot more behind the whole terrible matter."

"That's the way it strikes me, too," Tom nodded. "However, you're dressed,
so now we can hurry out and get busy."

"What shall we do first?" Superintendent Renshaw inquired.

"That's what I've been thinking over while you were dressing," Tom replied.
"Of course the one thing of real importance is to find Hazelton."

"Killed, beyond a doubt," replied the older man.