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“It’s that old automobile again,” Jack reported. “This makes four times in the last month that I’ve seen it turn into that cemetery road.”

“You’ve got that car on the brain, boy!” War scoffed, losing interest. “Forget it and stick to airplanes.”

“Okay,” Jack agreed, again training the glass on an expanse of sky. “All the same, it strikes me as queer that the car keeps coming back time after time.”

For weeks, Jack had amused fellow members of Explorers Post 21 by his constant reference to a mysterious automobile.

Not only had he called attention to it repeatedly, but he had noted down the license number, LC 1478. The car was a seven-year old model, driven by a man who wore workman’s clothes.

Jack had pointed out that the car always appeared at the cemetery entrance just at dusk or a trifle later. Furthermore, the driver nearly always parked close to the main highway, proceeding through the trees afoot.

Where he went the Scouts never had learned, for foliage blocked their view. But after ten to twenty minutes, he always reappeared and drove away.