The "Morton" was coming nearer all the time, but the ray did not yet reach with any great clearness the point where Harry Hazelton had been fighting for his life against his strange foe in the black night.
"Keep parallel with the wall, Evarts," Tom ordered, crisply.

"Conlon, are you pushing the engines for all it's worth ?" "Yes, sir," came from the engine-tender.

"This old craft isn't good for quite seven miles' an hour, anyway." "There! Now I've picked up the part of the wall where there isn't any wall in sight just now," said Tom, wincing over his own bull.

"Hazelton ought to be just this side of there." "There's no one near the breach," replied Evarts.
"So I see," Reade admitted, in a tone of worriment.

"Oh, well, Harry isn't such an infant as to be wiped out all in one moment." "Where is Mr.Hazelton then ?" inquired Evarts, as Tom swung the arc of the searchlight in broad curves.
"Great Scott! I wish I knew!" gasped Reade, his perplexity and his anxiety growing with every second.