At the edge of the glade Bruce halted. There was the grave, with the gray headstone. He stood there staring at it. Somehow he was possessed by a feeling that the grave had something to do with the vanishing of Frank Merriwell, although his reason told him that such a thing was folly.
"What is the matter?"
Hodge almost whispered the question, for he was beginning to feel the uncanny air that overshadowed the place.
"There is the grave," said Bruce.
"What grave?"
"Why, the one we told you about—the grave of the Boston man who disappeared in such a mysterious manner. It is supposed that he was murdered on this island and buried there."
Bart shivered.
"You act as if you half expected to see another grave beside that one," he muttered.
"Not so soon."
"But to-morrow——"