if
we take a trip down Greg's way? Maybe we'll meet him coming up to find
the crowd."

This counsel prevailing, the five set out on a direct walk to Greg's
home. A block away they met Mr. Holmes coming in their direction.

"You're just the ones I wanted to see, boys," was Mr. Holmes's greeting.
"Where's Greg?"

"We were going down to the house to find him, sir," Dick responded.

"I'm a good deal worried," confessed Mr. Holmes. "Greg went up river
this afternoon, after apples, and he hasn't been home yet."

"Not home yet?" gasped Dave Darrin.

Then he and Dick gazed at each other in an amazement that quickly turned
in both hearts to a sickening fear.

Dave recalled the stone flying past his head; Dick remembered the flying
hod of bricks. And Greg had been the third of their party who had
blocked Ab. Dexter's plans!

"Oh, Greg's all right," spoke up Tom Reade cheerily.

"Then why isn't he home?" demanded Mr. Holmes. "He has had time to
paddle down from Payson's three times since dark."

There was no gainsaying this statement. All five of the youngsters
plainly showed their uneasiness.

"Maybe Jim Haynes knows something about the canoe," suggested Dan
Dalzell.

"No; for Jim has just left our house," replied Mr. Holmes. "Jim came
over to see what luck my boy had had. I'm growing more worried every
minute. I think I'll go down to the river."

"We'll go with you, sir, if you don't mind," urged Dick.

"I'll be glad to have you, boys."

But the trip to the river did not lessen their worry. At the boathouse,
where Jim Haynes kept his canoe, Jim's craft was the only one absent.

"There won't be any sleep in our house to-night until Greg gets home,"
spoke Mr. Holmes plaintively. He saw by their faces that Greg's five
chums were equally uneasy. Yet all five dreaded equally to mention the
bare thought that Greg might have fallen in with violence at the hands
of cowardly Ab. Dexter.

"What in the wide world are we going to do?" whispered Dave aside to
Dick.

"Oh, dear, I don't really know. At any rate, we'll have to leave that to
Mr. Holmes."

"Boys," spoke that gentleman suddenly, "who owns that gasoline launch
yonder?"

"Mr. Edward Atwater," Dick answered.

"That looks like a powerful reflector light on the bow."

"Yes, it is, sir," Dave volunteered.

"Where does Mr. Atwater live?"

"On Benson Avenue," Tom Reade replied.

"Boys, I'm going over and see if I can induce Mr. Atwater to take us up
the