"O dear! did you say a snake?" came from Laura, in dismay.

Acting on Dave's suggestion, Dunston Porter hurried back to one of the bungalows. He reappeared with a shotgun, and lost no time in making for the vicinity of the rock where the reptile had been seen. In the meanwhile the four boys rejoined Luke and Shadow, and all swam back to the dock.

"Oh, Dave, are you sure the snake didn't drop into the water after you?"

questioned Jessie, and her face showed her anxiety.

"No, it retreated to the rocks further back," was the answer.

"Was it a poisonous snake?" asked Mrs. Ba.s.swood.

"I am sure I don't know."

"If there are snakes in these woods I don't think I'll care to go out very much," commented Laura, with a shiver.

"Snakes will just spoil everything," added Jessie, dismally.

While the boys and girls were dressing the report of a shotgun rang out.

"If that was Uncle Dunston shooting, he must have found Mr. Snake," were Dave's words.

"I hope he did find the snake," answered Roger. "If that reptile was left prowling around in this vicinity, none of the ladies would want to go out."

"And I wouldn't care much about going out myself," added Luke.

Having finished dressing, the boys lost no time in following Dunston Porter toward the rock which had been the goal of the swimming race.

They found the old hunter and traveler searching through the brushwood back of the rocks.

"Did you get it, Uncle Dunston?" questioned Dave.

"I did," was the reply. "What's left of that snake is over yonder," and Mr. Porter pointed with his hand. "I'm looking around here to see if there are any more of them, but I rather fancy that is all there is."

The charge from the shotgun had fairly torn the reptile to pieces, for when Dunston Porter had fired the snake had been coiled up, evidently ready for an attack.

Arming themselves with clubs and stones, the boys joined Dunston Porter in the hunt for more reptiles, but their search was unsuccessful; and a little while later all returned to the bungalows.

"Did you find any other snakes?" asked Jessie, after she had been told about the one that had been killed.

"No, and I don't think there are any others," answered Mr. Porter.

"Well, I hope there are not," put in Laura, "but if there are I wish you had found them."

"We can't find what isn't there," said Luke, with a grin.

"Say, that puts me in mind of a story," burst out Shadow.

"Wow!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Roger. "Here comes another!"

"Oh, say! this is a good one," pleaded the would-be story-teller. "It's about an old college graduate who was a regular fiend for football. He would undergo almost any hardship for the sake of getting to a game.

Well, one time there was a great contest on between two of the big colleges, and although old Bixby nearly broke his back to get there, he didn't arrive until late. 'Say, how is it going?' he puffed to a gate-keeper. 'Nothing to nothing, middle of the second half,' answered the gate-keeper. 'Is that so?' returned old Bixby. 'That's good! I haven't missed anything,' and he pa.s.sed in." And at this anecdote there was a general laugh.

In the afternoon while the young folks were enjoying themselves in various ways around the bungalows, they heard the put-put of a motor, and looking out on Mirror Lake, saw the craft belonging to the moving-picture company manager approaching, loaded with the furniture that had been borrowed.

"Here they come with our things!" cried Ben. "Looks like a house moving; doesn't it?"

They saw that the boat was in sole charge of Mr. Appleby, and as the craft drew closer the moving-picture manager gave them a cheery hail.

"Going into the moving business instead of moving pictures, eh?" cried Dave.

"I thought I might as well bring this stuff back while I had a chance,"

answered the manager, and soon brought his motor-boat to a standstill beside the dock. Then the boys made short work of taking the furniture back to the bungalows.

"I've got news for you, Mr. Porter," announced the moving-picture man, after the job was finished. "I've seen that young rascal, Link Merwell."

"You have!" exclaimed Dave, eagerly. "Up at your camp?"

"That's it."

"Did you make him a prisoner?" asked Phil.

"I didn't get the chance. He was evidently on his guard, and as soon as I told him what I knew, and that I was going to hand him over to the authorities, he ran straight into the woods, and that was the last any of us saw of him. He even left his suitcase and a light overcoat behind."

"Well, it's too bad he got away," returned our hero. "I thought sure if he had the audacity to show himself here we'd get a chance to capture him."

"I was foolish not to make him a prisoner as soon as he appeared,"

answered Thomas Appleby. "But I didn't think he would run away in that fashion, leaving his outfit behind. Besides, what he'll do in the woods behind our camp is a mystery to me. I asked old Tad Rason if there were any roads back there, and he said not within a couple of miles; so Merwell stands a good chance of losing himself completely."

"Great Scott! Supposing he should get into the woods and be unable to get out again!" burst out Roger.

"Well, such things have happened," answered Luke. "I heard only last winter of a man who was lost in the Maine woods."

"Yes, and Tad Rason told of two brothers who were lost up here in the Adirondacks for over three weeks," returned Mr. Appleby. "When they were found they were almost starved to death and next door to crazy."

"If anything like that should happen to Link, he will have n.o.body to blame but himself," announced Roger.

"Did he know we were up here?" queried Dave.

"He knew you were somewhere in this vicinity, but he did not know that the camps were so close to each other. I think if he had imagined such to be the case he would have steered clear of this vicinity."

"Was that young actor, Ward Porton, with him?"

"I really don't know whether they came together or not. Porton showed up about two hours before Merwell arrived. Of course, they may have separated just before the camp was reached--Porton not wanting to appear in the company of a fellow you had told him was a crook."

"Is Porton at your camp now?"

"Yes. But he doesn't intend to stay very long. He says he has something else in view, although what it is I don't know. To tell you the truth,"

and Mr. Appleby lowered his voice a trifle, "I think he is sweet on Miss Ford, and as she doesn't care for him at all and has told him so, it has put his nose out of joint."

"When you spoke to him about Merwell did Porton stand up for the fellow?" continued our hero. He was anxious to learn if possible just how close the companionship of the pair had been.