mystery."

"Not!" advised Reade with emphasis. "I suppose we'll have to
do something with this box, sometime, but I, for one, am in favor
of considering the matter for a little while before we go any
further. Dave, you are a foxy one, but I'm glad you are. It
may save us all trouble."

So the box lay there through the forenoon, and Dick & Co. did
little else but wonder and guess as to its contents.

Any member of Dick & Co. would have taken the risk of opening
it, had he been chosen by his comrades to do so; but not one of
them wanted one of the other fellows to take the risk.

In the meantime Greg Holmes could scarcely curb his rising curiosity.

CHAPTER VIII

THE MAN WITH THE HAUNTING FACE

The noon meal had been eaten, and the camp put to rights. The
water before them and the woods behind them called to nature-loving
Dick & Co., yet the invitations were ignored.

What could be in the innocent-looking box? That was the question
that held six minds in the thraldom of curiosity.

"I can't stand this suspense any longer!" muttered Reade towards
three o'clock in the afternoon.

"Open the box yourself," prompted Danny Grin.

"I will," offered Reade, advancing toward the box. "I don't care
if it's a ton of dynamite, all fixed up with clock work and automatic
fuses. I want to find it out."

But Greg Holmes sprang forward.

"Wait just a little longer, Tom," he urged. "Dick will be back
in a few minutes and then we'll get him to agree to it."

"Dick Prescott doesn't open the box," Tom retorted.

"It's addressed to him, anyway," said Greg firmly.

"I guess that's right," interposed Dave, nodding. "And Dick will
be here soon."

Dick reappeared within five minutes. He had taken two buckets
and had gone to a spring at some distance from camp for water.

"Dick," said Greg, "there's Tom on the ground on the other side
of that tree. He's growling like a Teddy bear because no one
has opened the box."

"I think we'd better open it," nodded Prescott, after glancing
at the faces of the others, for he saw that their curiosity was
at fever heat.

"Hooray!" yelled Greg. "Come on, fellows!"

There was a rush for the hammer and cold chisel, but young Holmes
won.

"You pry the lid up on one side, and then give me a chance at
the other side," proposed Tom Reade.

But Greg, smiling quietly, soon had the entire lid off the box.

Nothing but a lot of multi-colored, curly packing paper met their