to the house. It was securely locked, and the
windows were fastened down. Near the house was a well, from which they
drew water and took a drink from an old dipper that hung on a rusty nail
driven into the curb.

From the house a path led down toward the boarding house. They walked
down there and could look down into a beautiful little cove close at
hand.

"Why didn't we run in there and anchor, instead of anchoring away round
back of the island?" said Bruce.

"Simply because no one mentioned this cove, and I did hear Bold Island
harbor mentioned," answered Frank.

In the distance they could see three or four white sails. Far away
beyond a group of islands rose a trail of smoke that told some small
steamer was passing. A gull was circling over the cove, and a black crow
cawed dismally from the top branch of a tall spruce.

For all that the sun was in the sky, there was something oppressively
lonely and deserted about Devil Island.

"Let's try the doors here," suggested Bruce.

The front door was fastened, but they found a back door that they were
able to force open, as the nails that held it had rusted in the rotten
wood till they readily bent before the pressure.

"I don't know as we have any right to go in here," said Frank.

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Bruce. "The place is deserted."

"Somebody owns it."

"According to the yarns of the fishermen, it is owned by a monster with
blazing face and black holes for eyes."

"None of them told of seeing the monster anywhere around this building.
He was seen in the woods or on the other side of the island."

"I think we'll see him here just as quick as anywhere," grinned Bruce,
who had thrown off the uncanny feeling that had possessed him as they
stood beside the grave in the woods.

"Those stories were not told for nothing," declared Frank.

"Why were they told?"

"I don't know--not yet."

"But you have an idea?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"I rather fancy somebody wishes to keep people away from this island for
some reason."

"I thought the same thing."

"What that reason can be I do not know."

"But, Frank," said Bruce, hesitatingly, "you heard something as we stood
beside that grave up there in the woods?"

"Yes."

"A whisper?"

"Sure."

"What did it say?"

"'Dead and buried.'"

"Then it was not imagination, for we both heard the same thing. Now how
do you explain that?"

"Somebody whispered the words."

"Where was that somebody?"

"Yo