The search had also been continued over the water, for a possible clue to the mystery.
Though Tom ran, he felt himself choking, stifling.

Despite all his efforts to cheer himself the young chief engineer felt certain that his chum had mysteriously met his fate, and that brave, dependable Harry Hazelton was no more.
Yet how could he have vanished so completely, and what possibly could have happened to his assailant or assailants?
"It'll be an awful night, until daylight," Tom groaned inwardly, as he ran.

"At daylight, of course, we can make a far better search, especially over the water.

But in the hours that must elapse---! It's going to be a tough period of waiting!" Arrived at camp, Tom made straight for his own barracks, letting himself in with a latch-key as soon as he could control his shaking hand sufficiently to use the key.
Tom bounded straight for the bed-room of the superintendent, at the rear of the little building.
"Mr.Renshaw!" shouted the young chief, throwing open the bed-room door.
The barrack was lighted by electricity.

Tom threw on the light, then wheeled toward the bed, to find the superintendent sitting up, revolver in hand.
"Oh, it's you, is it ?" gasped the superintendent.