near the head of Lake Carlopa, where
the Harkness house was located. The lake was a large one, and Tom
had never been to the upper end.

When he was within a few miles of Pineford, Tom took a road that
branched off and went around it. Stopping at night in a lonely
farmhouse, he pushed on the next morning, hoping to get to the woods
that night. But a puncture to one of the tires delayed him, and
after that was repaired he discovered something wrong with his
batteries. He had to go five miles out of his way to get new cells,
and it was dusk when he came to the stretch of woods which he knew
lay between him and the old mansion.

"I don't fancy starting in there at night," said Tom to himself.
"Guess I'd better stay somewhere around here until morning, and then
venture in. But the question is where to stay?"

The country was deserted, and for a mile or more he had seen no
houses. He kept on for some distance farther, the dusk falling
rapidly, and when he was about to turn back to retrace his way to
the last farmhouse he had passed, he saw a slab shanty at the side
of the road.

"That's better than nothing, provided they'll take me in for the
night," murmured Tom. "I'm going to ask, anyhow."

He found the shanty to be inhabited by an old man who made a living
burning charcoal. The place was not very attractive, but Tom did not
mind that, and finding the charcoal-burner a kindly old fellow, soon
made a bargain with him to remain all night.

Tom slept soundly, in spite of his strange surroundings, and after a
simple breakfast in the morning inquired of the old man the best way
of penetrating the forest.

"You'd best strike right along the old wood road," said the
charcoal-burner. "That leads right to the lake, and I think will
take you where you want to go. The old mansion is not far from the
lake shore."

"Near the lake, eh?" mused Tom as he started off, after thanking the
old fellow. "Now I wonder if I'd better try to get to it from the
water or the land side?"

He found it impossible to ride fast on the old wood road, and when he
judged he was so close to the lake that the noise of his motor-cycle
might be heard, he shut off the power, and walked along, pushing
it. It was hard traveling, and he felt weary, but he kept on, and
about noon was rewarded by a sight of something glittering through the
trees.

"That's the lake!" Tom exclaimed, half aloud. "I'm almost there."

A little later, having hidden his moto