queried Prescott.

"Oh, the box looks all right," Dave laughed. "But the contents might prove more than a disappointment. A real danger, for instance."

"Do you really think so?" d.i.c.k mused wonderingly.

"Well, let's not be too rash," Darrin urged. "When I try to think of the friends who might take the trouble to come away out here to leave something for us, about the dearest friends I can think of are---Dodge and Bayliss."

"And what would they leave in the box for us?" pondered Prescott.

"Anything from a nest of rattlesnakes to an infernal machine,"

Greg Holmes suggested.

"That doesn't sound quite reasonable," d.i.c.k replied slowly. "Neither Dodge nor Bayliss amount to much, and both fellows are pretty mean; but do you imagine they would dare do anything that might come very close to murder? I don't."

"Oh, well, open the box, then," Dave agreed. "Whatever may be in it of a dangerous nature, I'll stand by and take my share of it."

"A few minutes won't make any difference," said d.i.c.k, rising and dropping hammer and chisel. "We'll wait until the rest of the fellows come in, and then we'll hold a pow-wow and vote on what's to be done."

"Tom! Oh, Tom! Fellows! Hoo-hoo!" roared Greg, making a megaphone of his hands.

"Wha-at's wa-anted?" came Reade's hail, still from a distance.

"Hurry up!" yelled Greg. "Hustle. Big doings here!"

"Have you found a boat?" came Tom's query.

"No! But---hustle! Run!"

Greg was alive with curiosity. He could not wait. If the box were to be opened only after a pow-wow, then the sooner the council were held the sooner the mystery of the box's contents would be solved.

Tom, Dan and Harry came in at a trot.

"What's all the row about?" Reade demanded.

"That," stated Greg, pointing to the packing case.

"What's in it?" asked Reade.

"We don't know," said d.i.c.k.

"I fail to see what's to hinder you from knowing," retorted Reade.

"I see that you have the tools for opening the case at hand.

What were you waiting for---my strong arm on the hammer? If so-----"

While speaking Tom had been glancing at the inscription on the card.

"I don't know just whether we ought to open it," Dave declared.

"That box may come from Dodge and Bayliss, and we may be sorry that we meddled with it."

"There may be something in that," agreed Reade, laying down hammer and chisel and rising. "But I wish we knew."

"We all wish that," said Greg.

"Well, what are we going to do?" inquired Hazelton. "Are we going to remain afraid of the box and shy away from it?"

"I'm not afraid," replied Darrin, his color rising. "I'm willing to open it if you fellows say so."

"Then what has kept you back so far?" Tom wanted to know.

"If it's a job put up by Dodge and Bayliss, then I don't just like to be caught napping by them," Dave replied. "However, you fellows all get back a few rods---and here goes for little David to solve the box mystery."

"Not!" advised Reade with emphasis. "I suppose we'll have to do something with this box, sometime, but I, for one, am in favor of considering the matter for a little while before we go any further. Dave, you are a foxy one, but I'm glad you are. It may save us all trouble."

So the box lay there through the forenoon, and d.i.c.k & Co. did little else but wonder and guess as to its contents.

Any member of d.i.c.k & Co. would have taken the risk of opening it, had he been chosen by his comrades to do so; but not one of them wanted one of the other fellows to take the risk.

In the meantime Greg Holmes could scarcely curb his rising curiosity.

CHAPTER VIII

THE MAN WITH THE HAUNTING FACE

The noon meal had been eaten, and the camp put to rights. The water before them and the woods behind them called to nature-loving d.i.c.k & Co., yet the invitations were ignored.

What could be in the innocent-looking box? That was the question that held six minds in the thraldom of curiosity.

"I can't stand this suspense any longer!" muttered Reade towards three o'clock in the afternoon.

"Open the box yourself," prompted Danny Grin.

"I will," offered Reade, advancing toward the box. "I don't care if it's a ton of dynamite, all fixed up with clock work and automatic fuses. I want to find it out."

But Greg Holmes sprang forward.

"Wait just a little longer, Tom," he urged. "d.i.c.k will be back in a few minutes and then we'll get him to agree to it."

"d.i.c.k Prescott doesn't open the box," Tom retorted.

"It's addressed to him, anyway," said Greg firmly.

"I guess that's right," interposed Dave, nodding. "And d.i.c.k will be here soon."

d.i.c.k reappeared within five minutes. He had taken two buckets and had gone to a spring at some distance from camp for water.