POWDER MILLS, OR JUST WHAT?

"If that's a thunderstorm," muttered Greg Holmes, barely half
awake, "then it's going to be a dandy!"

But Dick seized him by one arm and shook him.

"Come to your senses, Greg!  That wasn't thunder."

"No; but what was it?" wondered Dave.

"I'm going to dress and find out," rejoined Dick sturdily.  He
sat on the edge of his canvas cot and began to pull on his clothing.

BANG!  All were awake enough now to appreciate fully the force
of this second jarring explosion.

"I wonder if there are any powder works off in this wilderness?"
asked Danny Grin.

But Dick, who had now dressed as fully as he intended to do, save
for the lacing of his shoes, now came back from the doorway of
the tent with the lantern, the wick of which he was turning up.

"No powder mills in this part of the world," he declared.  "But,
gracious!  The explosion seemed big enough."

Tom Reade stepped over to Prescott, whispering in the latter's
ear:

"What if this is another chapter in the lake mystery that we struck
this afternoon?"

"That's possible," nodded Dick.

"What are you two fellows whispering about?" called Hazelton.

"We're using whispers in case there's anyone else near enough
to hear speaking voices," Prescott explained in a low tone.

That was enough to fan the curiosity of the others, who, partially
dressed, crowded about Prescott and Reade.

Leaving the lantern in the tent, Dick & Co. gathered in the darkness
in the open air.

"What do you make of it, Dick?" Dave asked.

"Just as much as you fellows do---no more," came the reply.

"If it isn't anything that carries danger to us," proposed Darrin,
"we may as well go back and to bed."

"All who are sleepy enough may go back and turn in," Prescott
suggested.  "I'll stay up and watch for a while."

"So will I," promised Reade.

But it turned out that none of the party wanted to sleep.  Even
Darrin said he was interested enough in this newest mystery to
stay up and try to fathom it.

"Whatever it is," smiled Dick, "it hasn't done us any harm."

"Oh, yes; there has been one casualty, at least," protested Holmes.
"The explosion has caused a compound fracture in my bump of curiosity."

"There don't seem to be any more explosions," suggested Dick Prescott,
after a few moments had passed, and some of the boys were yawning.
"Anyone want to turn in?"

No one wished to do so, however.

"If we can't find out anything to-night," murmured Dick, in a
low voice, "we'll at least make a strong effort in that direction
after breakfast to-morrow morning."

"We have the lake mystery on for after breakfast," urged Hazelton.

"There's probably a connection between the lake mystery and the
big explosions," whispered Tom Reade wisely.  "Fellows, I've a
notion that Danny Grin and I unintentionally bumped into someone
else's business of some queer kind.  Now the people who are peevish
with us are trying to chase us out of these woods.  At least,
that's my idea."

"It will take something more than noise to chase us," smiled Dick
coolly.  "Our ear drums are as sound as the next fellow's.  Just
the same, I wish we might find out something about this mystery.
If there's another explosion like that last one, then some of
us ought to travel straight in the direction of the noise."

"And run straight into the hard, swift punch that is behind that
noise!" muttered Danny Grin, with one of those facial contortions
that had earned him his nickname.

"Whoever starts to playing with a boy's curiosity must be ready
to abide by the consequences," chuckled Prescott.  "Now, if anyone
has started something against us, then we'll run the rascal to
the earth."

"You don't suppose it's Dodge's work?" whispered Greg.

Before Dick could answer Darrin broke in with an emphatic:

"Not much!  The lake mystery affair is one of too large calibre
for Bert Dodge's poor, anaemic brain.  There's something bigger
and smarter than a mere Dodge behind the doings of this night."

"It's one o'clock, fellows," said Dick, after walking over to
the lantern for a glimpse at his watch.  "Tom, Greg and I will
stay up until three o'clock and be ready to jump out together
at the first sign of anything happening.  The rest of you turn
in and get some sleep.  We'll call you at three o'clock and then
take our turn at the pillow."

"You'll call us, of course, if anything happens?" asked Dave.

"If another powder mill blows up," chuckled Tom, "you won't need
to be called.  You'll be out here on the jump."

Dave, Dan and Harry thereupon turned in.  Knowing that others
were on watch the trio in the tent were all sound asleep within
five minutes.

Only the sighing of the wind through the trees, the occasional
splash of a leaping fish in the lake, and the subdued, musical
hum of tiny night insects came to the ears of Dick and his fellow
watchers.

Greg was soon yawning.  Tom, for want of something better to do,
began describing all over again the strange apparition he and
Dalzell had seen that afternoon.  Greg, finding the "creeps" in
Tom's narration to be stronger than the interest, shivered and
withdrew to a spot beyond the reach of Tom's whispers.

Not long after Greg, his back propped against a tree trunk, was
sound asleep.

Tom liked to talk.  Prescott was a good listener, putting in a
question now and then.

So at least another hour passed.  Then-----

Boo-oom!

That crash was so close at hand that it seemed as though the earth
must open.

Tom's first startled glance was at the sky.  Then, with a whisking
sound, several fragments of something passed over their heads.

"We're being bombarded?" gasped Tom inquiringly.

"This is getting too noisy to be interesting," protested Greg,
waking and leaping over to the place where his chums stood.

"I thought you fellows were going to put a stop to that racket!"
complained Darry from the tent.

Dick Prescott's whole thought and effort had been centered on
the task of placing the location of that latest explosion.

"You fellows look after the camp," Dick called in a low voice
to those in the tent.  "Come on, Tom and Greg!"

His two chums hurried to overtake him as the young leader rushed
off in the darkness.  Prescott was traveling up the slope in a
direction that ran in an oblique line from the lake front.

"Are you sure it was just exactly in this direction?" whispered
Reade, as he reached Dick's side.

"In this direction as nearly as I could judge," Dick affirmed.

For some moments they traveled onward.  Then they halted to listen.

"I don't know whether I'm any good at judging distances," Dick
whispered, "but it seemed to me that whatever exploded was not much
more than three hundred yards from camp."

"About that distance, I should say," Tom agreed.

"Then we've gone about as far as the place of the explosion.
Suppose we keep very quiet and listen."

"Ugh!" grunted Greg.  "I hope the earth doesn't blow up under
our feet."

"Go back to camp, if you're nervous," smiled Dick, but Greg remained
where he was.

"I'm going out a little way and prowl," whispered Dick, pointing
in the direction he had chosen.  "Tom, why don't you travel in
about the opposite direction?"

Reade nodded.

"Where shall I go?" asked Greg.

"You had better remain right here," Prescott whispered.  "If you
should hear either of us yell for help then you could start in
the direction of the sound."

"Then I'll get into those bushes," whispered Greg.  "When you
come back, come straight to the bushes, so I'll know that it's
one of my own crowd.  If any strangers appear, I'll listen to
'em if they halt near here, or trail them if they try to go past
here."

Dick nodded.  This seemed about the best that could be done.
Of course, back in camp, he had three more good and courageous
fellows to draw upon as added forces, but with such strange doings
afoot in the night it didn't seem wise to call the others away
from the camp.  Above all, the camp had to be watched and guarded.

In half an hour Dick returned.  He had found nothing to throw
light on the puzzle of the night.  Tom was back already, having
beaten Dick to Greg's hiding place by about two minutes.

"We may as well go back to camp," whispered Greg.

"Not much!" Prescott retorted.  "If anyone is trying to do anything
to us, then we want to run the mystery down and put an end to
it.  My idea is that the best thing we can do is to get up to
the road, post ourselves at fair intervals and watch to see if
anyone should pass."

"Correct!" clicked Reade.  "And I think that would have been the
best plan in the first instance."

"If the powder-mill explosions are to keep up through the night,"
hinted Tom, "then there ought to be another one due within a few
minutes.  In that case our tormentors may be getting ready to
plan something now.  So let's hike for the road at once."

Dick led the way, all three boys moving as noiselessly as they
could.  Prescott posted his friends, then chose his own post,
so that they were stationed at intervals of about a hundred yards.
All had hiding places within plain view of this rough country
road.

Now the time dragged again.  Strain their ears as they might,
none of these young outposts of Dick & Co. could hear a single
suspicious sound.  They must have remained there all of three
quarters of an hour.

Bang! sounded a terrific crash.  Tom and Greg, without showing
themselves in the road, hurriedly, silently reached their leader.

"Pshaw!" uttered Prescott in disgust.  "With all our care we were
on the wrong side of camp to be near the explosion.  Come along,
now, but don't make any noise if you can help it, and don't step
out into the road.  We'll go straight toward that latest noise.
If it takes all summer we're simply bound to find out who is
trying to blow up these woods just to scare out a few little rabbits
like ourselves!"