usts.

"How would you like to be out on the lake now?" one asked.

The question directed their gaze out upon the churning, black sheet of
water before them. The lake, lying amid those frowning, wooded hills,
was somber enough at all times, and a quiet gloom pervaded it which
imparted a rare charm. But now, in the grip of the rain and wind, the
enshrouding night made the lake seem like a place haunted, and the
enclosing mountains desolate and forlorn.

"I'll swim across with anybody," said Hervey Willetts.

He belonged in a troop from western New York and reveled in stunts which
bespoke a kind of blithe daring. No one took him up and silence reigned
for a few minutes more.

"There's the little light on the top of the mountain," said Will Dawson
of Roy's patrol. "If there's anybody up there, I hope he has an
umbrella."

But of course there was no one up there. For weeks the tiny light away
up on the summit of that mountain wilderness had puzzled the scouts of
camp. They had not, indeed, been able to determine that it was a light;
it seemed rather a tiny patch of brightness which was always brighter
when the moon shone. This had led to the belief that it was caused by
some kind of natural phenomena.

The scouts fixed their gaze upon it, watching it curiously for a few
moments.

"It isn't a reflection, that's sure," said Roy, "or we wouldn't see it
on a night like this."

"It's a phosphate," said Pee-wee.

"It's a chocolate soda," said Roy.

"You're crazy!" Pee-wee vociferated. "Phosphate is something that shines
in the dark."

"You mean phosphorus," said Westy Martin.

That seemed a not unlikely explanation. But the consensus of opinion in
camp was that the bright patch was the reflection of some powerful light
in the low country on the opposite side of the mountain.

"It's a mystery," said Pee-wee, "that's what it is."

Suddenly, while they gazed, it went out. They watched but it did not
come again. And the frowning, jungle-covered, storm beaten summit was
enshrouded again in ghostly darkness. And the increasing gale beat the
lake, and the driven rain assailed the few stragglers on the veranda
with lashing fury. And across the black water, in that ghoul-haunted,
trackless wilderness, could be heard the sound of timber being rent in
splinters and of great trees crashing down the mountainside.

Suddenly a word from Westy Martin aroused them all like a cannon shot.

"Look!" he shouted, "_Look! Look at t