hrill music to the chorus of that late summer
night. Even a colony of tree frogs solemnly chanted their appeal for
"more rain."

During the day just ended six fellows in the thriving town of Stanhope
had received urgent telephone calls from Paul, who was an only son of the
leading doctor in the place.

And each boy had promised to meet him at the Three Oaks by the time the
clock in the church steeple had struck eight.

It was even now booming out the hour.

When the last stroke died away, the most impatient among the gathered
boys moved restlessly.

"Follow me, fellows," said Paul, in a low, thrilling tone.

"Where are we heading for?" queried one, who had as yet failed to express
his feelings in the matter.

This was Wallace Carberry, the sober member of the pair known far
and wide as the Carberry Twins; his mate, William, being his exact
counterpart in every particular, when he chose to repress the
good-natured grin that usually marked his fate.

"To the Shipley barn; single file; and silence is the watchword!"

Paul Morrison had long enjoyed the confidence of his comrades in most
matters pertaining to outdoor sports. A healthy lad, both in mind and
body, he was never so happy as when studying the secrets of Nature in
wood and meadow; or in playing any of the various strenuous games to
which all boys with red blood in their veins are addicted.

And when he sent out his mysterious request that some of his most
intimate friends meet him on this night, as he had a communication
of importance to put up to them, the greatest curiosity made itself
manifest.

Paul never suggested ordinary things. More than once he had engineered
some game that brought honor and glory to the boys of Stanhope; and
remembering these satisfactory "stunts" of old, it was no wonder these
fellows had come to the place of meeting without a single exception.

With Bluff Shipley close upon the heels of the leader, and Robert Oliver
Link, whose name had long since been corrupted into Bobolink, bringing
up the rear, the seven lads trailed through the woods, following some
path with which they were evidently more or less familiar.

Several times Paul gave a recognized signal that caused every one of the
bunch to stop short, and turn his head on one side in the endeavor to
discover whether hostile footsteps could be heard in their rear.

But although there were doubtless many rustling sounds, the boys laid
these to the bright-eyed little