"Look!"
Was it imagination? This time the whisper sounded amazingly clear and distinct.
"Look at what?"
In spite of himself, he spoke the words aloud. He did not expect an answer, and he gasped for breath when it came:
"The stone!"
A quiver ran over Frank Merriwell's body. Of all the mysteries on this island, the mystery of this black whispering glade in the woods was the greatest.
He bent forward and looked at the stone. There were fresh chips on the mound, and at a glance he saw that the name "Rawson Denning" had been chiseled out. Below it another name had been cut into the stone, so that the inscription now read:
"Sacred to the Memory of Frank Merriwell."