Danger on Vampire Trail (13 page)

“You mean there were two men in Room 14?”

“That's right. Mr. Larson and Mr. Farkus.”

Frank pulled out Lasher's photo. “Is he one of them?”

“Yes. That's Mr. Larson.”

“May we look the room over?” Frank asked.

The clerk shrugged. “As long as the law's with you.”

The officer stood by the open door while the Hardys looked around for clues. The wastebasket had been emptied. A search of the drawers and closets proved fruitless, too. Finally Joe glanced at the memo pad next to the telephone. Nothing was written on it, but the young detective's sharp eyes noticed indentations on the paper. He tilted the pad up to the light, then set it back again.

“Okay, nothing here,” he said as they stepped outside. They thanked the officer and left.

Nearing their car, Joe said, “Frank, there
was
something on that pad!” He told of the indented letters. “They spelled Mungo!”

“Wow! The entire gang may be meeting at that motel,” Frank said.

“Which means we may be able to catch the whole bunch,” Joe said hopefully.

“I doubt it. They've been warned by Farkus and cleared out.”

Frank headed west. Halfway to Blackfoot Meadow the Hardys saw Biff Hooper racing toward them on the trail bike. He waved frantically and Frank stopped. Biff pulled over beside him. He lifted the visor of his riding helmet and exclaimed, “Something awful has happened!”

“You look as if you've been in an earthquake,” said Joe.

“It was more like a tornado. You should have seen the place.”

“What place?” asked Frank. “For Pete's sake, calm down and tell us what's happened.”

“Prince Cuthbert's trailer—somebody raided it. They bound, gagged, and blindfolded the poor old guy and ransacked the interior.”

“I wonder what they were looking for,” Frank mused.

Biff shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe they thought his jewels were real!”

The Hardys decided to visit Cuthbert and ask him a few questions. Biff followed them into the campground. When they reached the gaily painted trailer, they learned that the park police had already been there and left.

The prince's quarters were still in disorder. When the boys entered, he was trying to hang the pictures back on the tapestried walls. Then he adjusted his helmet, set his throne back on the small dais from which it had toppled, and seated himself.

“I must not forget that I am royalty,” he said, “despite the adversities which have beset me.”

“I've got to hand it to you,” said Biff. “You're taking this mighty calmly.”

The prince raised his hand. “I shall send word to my retainers. They will hasten from Europe and track down the assailants.”

“Tell us what happened,” Frank said. “What were your attackers looking for?”

Cuthbert said that in the middle of the night someone forced the door. Two men entered, and before he had a chance to sit up, they bound and gagged him. The prince had not seen them, because they blindfolded him before turning on the lights.

“Did they take anything?” Frank asked.

“Only those sapphires I had. That's what amazes and confounds me. My crown jewels, worth much more, were untouched. Even the royal documents were overlooked by those scoundrels.”

With Cuthbert's permission the boys searched for clues but found none. Frank advised the prince to get a stronger lock for his door. Then the young detectives stepped outside and walked over to a Coke machine.

“Who do you think robbed the prince?” Joe asked.

“He must have told other people about those sapphires,” Frank said. “Perhaps Fingers and his gang came back to steal them.”

They were finishing their refreshing drinks when Chet Morton approached at a trot with Sherlock on a leash.

“Here, have a drink,” said Joe. He produced another bottle and handed it to the perspiring boy.

Chet took a long swig, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and pulled something from his pants pocket. “Another clue,” he declared, handing a Magnacard to Frank. It was made out to John Minks.

“So Farkus swindled the jeweler!” Frank exclaimed. “Burn's description fits him, too! “Where'd you get this, Chet?”

“In our camper. I was cleaning up the place and found it under Biff's bunk. Figured our friend Farkus dropped it.”

“I don't think he dropped it,” Joe said.

“What do you mean?” Chet asked.

“I think he hid it when he showed us the identification in his wallet. Then he couldn't find it again. Remember how he was looking around, saying he was afraid of spiders?”

“That was a lot of baloney, all right,” Frank declared.

“Anyway, it throws a different light on the mystery,” Joe said.

The four discussed the new development. Perhaps Farkus had not been kidnapped at all. Maybe the two pursuers were enemies and he had been racing up Vampire Trail to reach the protection of his own gang!

“That Magnacard bunch could have a hideout at the top of the mountain,” Joe stated.

Biff snapped his fingers. “Maybe they manufacture the cards there!”

“Could be,” said Joe.

Frank pocketed the charge plate and they returned to their car. Chet got in back with the dog, while Biff mounted the bike for the ride back to their camp.

“It's past chow time,” Chet complained.

“Okay, you can whip something up real quick,” Joe said.

The thought of juicy hamburgers made Chet's stomach grumble. “Come on, Joe! Can't you go a little faster? I'm dying of hunger.”

The car hummed along the highway between the towering green walls of Blackfoot Pass. Finally they veered left up the hill to their campsite.

“Boy, our trailer sure is well hidden,” Chet said as they neared the spot. “You can't even see it from here.”

Joe drove a little farther, then cried out, “I'll say you can't. It's gone!”

 

 

 

 

CHET fumed. “The Terrible Trio stole it, that's who!”

“Somebody sure doesn't want us near Vampire Trail,” Frank remarked. He glanced about for a clue to the thief or thieves.

There was nothing but tracks made by the wheels of their camper. Apparently it had been pulled down to the road before being hitched onto a car.

“Where do we start looking?” Biff asked.

Frank said there were three possibilities. The thieves could have driven east or west along Blackfoot Pass Road, or up Vampire Trail. The latter, however, showed no sign of fresh car tracks.

“Biff, you and Chet ride the cycle back to Blackfoot Meadow,” Frank said. “Joe and I will drive west over the pass.”

“Good luck,” Biff called out. “We'll meet back here.”

“Okay.” Frank stepped on the gas. As Blackfoot Pass Road ascended, the valley became narrower and more twisted. The boys checked both sides of the road for a sign of their camper, but in vain.

Near the top of the pass was a turnout cut into a rock wall looming thirty feet high on the left. Much to Frank and Joe's surprise, their stolen camper rested close to the base of the cliff!

“Now who'd do a thing like that?” Joe asked.

“Whoever stole it,” Frank commented, “must have realized he couldn't get very far with it.”

They glanced about in all directions for possible spies. Frank happened to peer up at the summit of a sheer peak. It was about a mile south of where they stood.

“Look, Joe! There's a flashing light!”

The boys squinted into the afternoon sun at a curious yellow-gold light winking at the top of the mountain.

“Somebody's using a mirror signal,” Joe said.

“Signaling who?”

“The guys who stole our camper, maybe?”

“Could be.”

Joe turned and started toward their trailer.

“Wait a minute,” Frank warned. “This might be a trap.”

Together they cautiously approached the camper. It seemed to be in good condition. As Joe was about to enter, a scraping noise came from above, accompanied by a shower of pebbles.

“Quick!” Frank commanded. “Flat against the cliff!”

They dashed to the rock wall, pressing themselves against the cool stone.

The sound grew louder and clods of earth pelted down. Then a huge dead tree crashed and splintered on the ground. It missed Frank and Joe by a foot, but the twisted branches cut deep ridges into the camper.

“You were right, Frank! It was a trap!”

“We'll spring a trap of our own.” Frank muttered. “Let's go!”

They worked their way along the base of the precipice, finally reaching the wooded slope adjoining the cliff.

Looking up, Frank said, “We'll circle around and approach them from the rear.”

Moving carefully so as not to make any noise, the boys crawled up the slope, using the dense foliage for cover. When they were about thirty feet from the top, something moved in the bushes near the cliff edge.

On their stomachs Frank and Joe inched ahead, pulses pounding with excitement. Soon they were within earshot of two hiding figures.

One said hoarsely, “Look, I'm a thief, not a strong-arm man.”

“Same here,” said the other. “I don't like this heavy work.”

There was silence for a few moments, then the first man said, “I wish they'd show themselves again so we could bop them. Mungo, take this big rock!”

Mungo! The man who had been trailing the white cabin cruiser! Frank and Joe recognized the speaker's voice as Farkus'.

At Frank's signal, the young detectives let out piercing war whoops and sprang up. The two men wheeled around, their eyes as big as saucers. The Hardys leaped upon them, pinning them to the ground inches from the edge of the cliff.

“Don't! Please don't throw us over!” Mungo pleaded.

“Wait a minute!” Farkus cried out. “We didn't want to do this!”

The boys dragged the men to their feet, bound their wrists with some rope Joe had in his pocket, and marched them down the slope. Their captives stumbled and fell. When they pulled themselves up again, they begged for mercy.

“We'll cooperate, we'll do anything you want!” said Farkus.

“That's right,” Mungo added as they reached the turnout. “We're fed up with working for Lasher!”

“How did you get here? Where's your car?” Frank asked the men.

The pair motioned to a spot a hundred yards distant. Their automobile was hidden in a sheltered glen. While Joe watched the captives, Frank drove it back to the camper.

“You're coming with us,” said Joe.

The prisoners were shoved into the back seat of the Hardys' car. Then Frank hitched on the camper and drove off. Joe chauffered the other vehicle.

An amazed Chet Morton and an equally surprised Biff Hooper watched the arrival of the strange caravan. They had returned minutes before.

Frank ran their camper up the hill and Joe parked the swindlers' car on the shoulder of the road. Then the boys pulled their prisoners out.

“I suppose you want a lawyer before you say anything,” Frank said.

“Don't need any lawyers,” Mungo said. “We'll tell you all about it.”

He explained that Lasher wanted to silence the Hardys. Farkus had told him of their campsite and Lasher had worked out a scheme to lure the boys away and injure them.

“You can tell that to the police,” Frank said. “We're taking you into town.”

But before they could push their captives back into the convertible, they heard a car door slam on the road below. A park ranger strode up the hill. They had not met him before.

“Hello, boys,” he said. “I see you found a good camping spot. Don't forget to wet down all fires.” Then his glance fell upon the bound wrists of the captives. “What's going—?”

“Help us! We've been kidnapped!” Mungo cried out.

“We demand our civil rights!” Farkus added. “Arrest these kids!”

The boys looked at one another in amazement. Biff said, “Why, you crooks! You're the ones who should be arrested!”

“Don't believe a word they say,” Farkus bellowed. “See how they got us tied up!”

The park ranger was in a quandary. “I can't take anybody's side,” he said. “How do I know who's telling the truth?” He pulled a knife from his pocket and cut the bonds.

“They'll escape!” Chet protested.