mental in bringing the quest to a close, and most unexpectedly. Peter Petrofsky was relieving his brother at the telescope, when the odd man, who had not taken his eyes from the field glasses, suddely uttered an exclamation.
"Bless my tooth-brush!" he cried. "That's a most desolate place down there. A lot of trees blown down around a lake that looks as black as ink."
"What's that!" cried Ivan Petrofsky. "A lake as black as ink? Where?"
"We just passed it!" replied Mr. Damon.
"Then put back there, as soon as you can, Tom!" called the Russian. "I want to look at that place."
With a long, graceful sweep the young inventor sent the glider back over the course. Ivan Petrofsky glued his eyes to the telescope. He picked out the spot Mr. Damon had referred to, and a moment later cried:
"That's it! That's near the lost platinum mine! We've found it again, Tom—everybody! Don't you remember, Peter," he said turning to his brother, "when we were lost in the snow we crawled in among a tangle of trees to get out of the blast. There was a sheet of white snow near them, and you broke through into water. I pulled you out. That must have been a lake,
