The Missing Chums (13 page)

“Right,” Frank said. “We'd better take both boats, Tony. In case of trouble, we'll be able to split up, or help each other.”

Tony agreed eagerly. “Then we'll meet you at your dock at one-thirty,” Frank told him.

As their two friends hurried off, Frank and Joe walked to their motorcycles and rode home.

As they dismounted in front of their garage, Aunt Gertrude appeared behind the back screen door, wringing her hands nervously.

“Hi, Auntie!” Joe called cheerfully. “Where are Mother and Dad?”

“Your mother has gone shopping and your father's off on some more detective work! There's a giant in the living room waiting for
you.”

“A what?” Joe asked, entering the house.

Aunt Gertrude made a sweeping motion with her arms. “A man,” she said,
“a great big
man!”

Laughing, Frank led the way into the living room. This must be Alf Lundborg!

The visitor's huge frame certainly dwarfed the Hardys' furniture. Grinning, he shook each brother's hand in his crushing grip.

“I'm out of jail again,” he told them. “Sutton wouldn't say I attacked him, so they finally let me go.”

“I
knew
you didn't do it, Alf,” said Joe.

The stevedore's good-natured face clouded. “No, I wouldn't touch a little weasel like Sutton,” he agreed. “But it makes me sore to be accused of doing it! What I came to tell you, though, is this—I know who
did
beat him up. It was one of his own pals!”

“Ben Stark?” Frank asked curiously.

“No, a fellow they call Pops. Remember I told you about the bunch who were always fighting with one another? Well, Sutton and Pops do most of it. Pops finally gave it to him good, but Sutton won't tell the police.”

“That must mean they're in something illegal together,” Frank reasoned. “How about this Pops, Alf—is he an old man?”

“No. Although he's bald, he's younger than Sutton—bigger and stronger. Talks loud, too. I don't know why they call him Pops.”

Frank and Joe looked at each other excitedly. Both immediately thought of Ben Stark's pal who was still at large. Could Pops be the Fizzle soda drinker?

“Thanks for telling us, Alf,” said Joe. “We're glad you're out of jail. You've been in twice and both times because of us.”

“You couldn't help it,” replied their big friend, “and you spoke up for me both times. I appreciate that.”

After Alf had left, the brothers had some lunch, then headed for the waterfront on their motorcycles.

Tony and Jerry were already in the
Napoli
when the
Sleuth
came alongside the Prito dock. With serious, determined faces the four friends headed for Hermit Island.

As soon as they reached the ocean, the boys were confronted by a fast-darkening sky and choppy sea. With incredible swiftness, black clouds, with chains of lightning snapping underneath them, moved in from the south. Large raindrops began to pelt the boys. In another moment the darkness closed around them like nightfall. Lightning flashed on the heaving ocean and the rain smacked down on them almost painfully.

“Why didn't we bring slickers!” Joe exclaimed.

Through it all, Joe kept the
Sleuth's
nose pointed northward. Presently, illuminated by the lightning, a rocky mass came into view.

“There's the island,” Frank called out. “A motorboat's just pulling away, Joe!”

“Let's chase it!” Joe cried. “Some of the gang may be aboard and are escaping.”

“Not now,” Frank cautioned. “Chet and Biff come first!” As the boys watched, the dark-brown craft disappeared in the distance.

As suddenly as it had come up, the black squall passed over. The Sleuth and the
Napoli
circled toward the island's beach. By this time the rain had stopped.

The clouds parted, blue sky appeared, and the sun beat down again. Under its burning heat the boys' clothes began to dry out.

“The storm's probably driven that phony hermit under cover,” Joe said. “Let's get ashore before he spots us.”

The boys found a small cove fringed with small, scrubby oak trees. Quickly concealing their boats in this cover, they debarked and set out on the path around the island.

This time no one disturbed them. The trail climbed and then dropped down to the level of the shore again. Overhead loomed the wet bluff.

Suddenly Frank stopped and pointed to a dark opening in the gray rock ahead. “A cave!” he said quietly.

The boys crept nearer. Just outside the cave's entrance, Frank lifted a warning hand.

“Voices!” he whispered.

HOLDING themselves rigid against the damp rock, the four boys strained to listen. Somewhere inside the cave a man was talking rapidly, but his words were muffled and indistinct.

“What's he saying?” whispered Tony.

Frank motioned for the others to hold their places. Then he lay on his stomach and inched cautiously forward until his head was just outside the cave opening. From this position he could hear what was going on inside.

“Well, what's happening?” Jerry whispered impatiently. “Tug at his ankle, Joe!”

But just then Frank came wriggling backward. He jumped to his feet, and clutching his sides, hastened some distance down the path.

Joe, Tony, and Jerry ran after him.

“Frank—what's the matter?” his brother asked. “What was he saying?”

Frank tried to speak, but his chest heaved with suppressed laughter. Finally he managed to tell them: “The fellow was saying... ‘B-buy B-b-butterfly Baby Foods'!”

Frank could hear what was going on inside

“Wha-a-t!” The three boys looked at one another, completely mystified.

“We were listening to a radio,” Frank blurted out. “The announcer was giving a commercial!”

“You mean the hermit's in there, listening to the radio?” Joe asked.

“I couldn't see,” Frank replied. “Maybe Chet and Biff are there! It's likely, anyhow, that their guard went in to avoid the rain. Now that it's over, he'll probably come out again. Our best move is to find a good spot to lie in wait for him.”

Near the cave mouth the boys found a large, brush-protected boulder and hid themselves behind it. For some time they waited. From inside the cave, snatches of music alternated with the announcer's voice.

At last Joe could stand it no longer. “Maybe there's nobody inside!” he burst out impatiently. “I'm going to have a look!”

“Careful!” Frank whispered, as his brother slipped out of hiding.

Joe darted to the path, lay down, and inched himself forward until he could see into the cavern. For several minutes he peered inside, then scrambled back behind the boulder.

“Somebody
is
in there!” he reported. “He's asleep and forgot to turn off his radio.”

“Any sign of Chet and Biff?” Frank asked.

Joe shook his head. “No.”

“Do you think it's the hermit?” Jerry asked.

“I don't know,” Joe replied. “Anyway, he's alone.”

“We could surprise this fellow while he's asleep,” Tony said.

Frank nodded. “But Chet and Biff may be somewhere else on the island. Let's search while the fellow in the cave is asleep.”

“Good idea,” Joe agreed. “Look for a hut or shelter where the boys might be prisoners.”

A brief examination of the gray bluff revealed a narrow cleft leading to the top of the precipice. Joe, ascending first, found himself on another path which seemed to rim the island from the top of the bluffs.

“Here's the trail the hermit used to keep us in sight yesterday,” he told the others.

After scrambling up, Frank, Tony, and Jerry paused for a look about. Below them sparkled the bright ocean, extending to the mainland a few miles away. Behind lay a little plateau, overgrown with small pines and scrub oaks. In the center of the flat area rose a steep, rocky hill which gave the island its humping silhouette.

“A hut would be easy to camouflage among those trees,” Frank remarked. “We'll have to spread out and comb every foot of the woods.”

Though the youths worked carefully around the plateau, they found no sign of any shelter. On the island's seaward side, where the growth was sparse, the boys checked the sides of the steep hill for caves. They saw none.

“It doesn't look very hopeful,” Joe said at last. “If Biff and Chet were brought here, they've probably been carried off by now.”

“The robbers might still be using this place,” Jerry insisted. “It's a perfect hideout.”

“They could have come here with the loot from the bank,” Tony added, “and used the phony hermit to scare off intruders.”

“Perhaps the gang is using the island merely as a stopping-off place,” Frank suggested. “With this hill right in the middle, a lookout could spot boats approaching from miles away.”

“Of course!” Joe took him up eagerly. “That's how the hermit happened to be waiting for us yesterday. Today is different. Don't forget that boat we saw pulling away. Chet and Biff may have been put aboard!”

“Right,” said Joe. “Let's climb to the top of the hill and determine how far we
can
see.”

Sparked by the new idea, the four boys attacked the steep hill at the center of the island. They worked their way among the rocks and pulled themselves upward by means of the short, tough brush.

“What a rough climb!” Jerry gasped.

As they climbed higher, the vegetation became too flimsy to use as support, and the hill's cone became even steeper. Still the boys pressed upward, panting, with Frank in the lead. Finally he clambered onto a flat, wind-swept area at the top—about twenty feet across—and threw himself down to rest.

Joe's head popped into view over the edge, and then Jerry's. Suddenly, from below them, came a sharp cry.

“Tony!” yelled Joe and Jerry together.

Sitting up, Frank saw a cloud of dust and stones tumbling and bouncing down the hill. A whole section of ground slid like a carpet along the steep slope, with Tony in the middle of it!

Frank, Joe, and Jerry slid in pursuit, bracing their feet hard against the slope like skiers!

Partly covered by loose earth, Tony Prito lay on his back where the hillside leveled off. He grinned up weakly at his three chums.

“You okay, Tony?” Joe cried anxiously.

“Think so. Can't seem to get up, though.”

“Where are you hurt?” Frank asked.

“Ankle,” Tony answered, rising to one knee.

Immediately a wince of pain crossed his face and he sank back again. Quickly Frank and Joe lifted their comrade to a standing position.

“Try now, Tony,” Jerry urged. “Put just a little weight on it.”

Though Tony's left leg appeared sturdy enough, the right one buckled at any pressure.

“It might be a fracture,” Frank said. “We'll get you to a doctor, Tony.”

While Jerry steadied the injured boy, Frank and Joe made a chair for him by interlocking their hands. Then they lifted Tony, who braced himself with one arm across each brother's shoulder.

Slowly the little procession made its way down to the level of the plateau. Moving more rapidly now, they followed the path around to the mainland side of the island.

Once among the scrub oaks and pines, the trail became too narrow for three persons to move abreast. Frank and Joe had to kick their way through the brush on each side as they advanced.

When they neared the beach at last, a small pine clump hindered Frank's progress. He kicked out determinedly.

“Hey, what's that?” cried Tony from his perch.

A dark garment, struck by Frank's foot, flopped into the path!

“A sailor's pea jacket,” Jerry reported, stooping down. “And here are some more, under this pine brush.”

“Pea jackets?” Frank exclaimed. “That's what the bank robbers wore!”

“THE bandits have been here!” Frank exclaimed. “Fellows, we're on the right track after all!”

“Wait till Chief Collig sees these pea jackets!” Joe exulted. “Pick 'em up, Jerry. Boy, what a bundle of clues!”

Jerry gathered the five bulky, damp jackets in his arms and staggered forward. Almost immediately a low-hanging oak branch snagged one of the coats and pulled it from his grasp.

“We'll never get to the boats at this rate,” he despaired.