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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

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BOOK: The Mystery of Cabin Island
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The shack owner shook his head. “I haven't seen a soul as long as I've been here this winter. Say, have you asked Pete Hagan? He lives in a fishing hut just about a mile down shore.”
Frank thanked the man and sailed the
Sea
Gull in that direction. The boys found Hagan fishing through the ice just beyond his home. He had seen no boy of Johnny's description.
As the four companions glided away, Joe said, “This is discouraging. Only thing we can do is cruise up and down the coast.”
Frank tacked skillfully to keep the
Sea
Gull close to shore while Biff scanned the woods with his binoculars. “No one's in there,” he reported.
“Let's hike up that hill,” Joe finally suggested, pointing to a section where pine trees grew down to the shoreline of the inlet. “From the top we can see Cabin Island and keep an eye on it.”
Frank brought the
Sea
Gull in and braked it. The boys strapped on snowshoes and made their way up the densely wooded slope. At the top, they found themselves in the back yard of a weathered log cabin which perched on the edge of the precipice.
“Wonder who lives here,” Biff said.
“No one, from the looks of it,” Frank replied. “But let's go see.”
The four approached the cabin. It was small and crudely built, with large chinks between the logs. The place had a desolate appearance.
The boys knocked several times at the door, then Joe went to look through a window. “I think the place has been abandoned,” he reported. “There's not much furniture, and everything is covered with dust.”
“Let's go in!” Chet urged. “My feet hurt and I'm freezing!”
“I suppose if nobody's living here, it's all right,” said Frank. He tried the door, which opened creakily.
The boys took off their snowshoes and went inside. At once Chet plopped into a sagging easy chair. A cloud of dust spewed up from the faded cushions. He coughed and the others laughed.
“What a view!” exclaimed Biff, looking out the front window. Below, the curve of Barmet Bay lay like an ice-blue jewel, with Cabin Island a white pearl in the distance. Biff focused the binoculars on the spot. Suddenly he cried out, “Hey, fellows! An iceboat's pulling up to the island! It's the Hawk!
CHAPTER X
Puzzling Theft
BIFF'S report on the iceboat sent a thrill of excitement through the Bayporters.
“Who's aboard?” Frank asked eagerly.
“Hanleigh and his two stooges,” Biff replied. “He's climbing out now, but Ike and Tad are staying in the boat.”
Biff handed the binoculars to Frank. Clamping them to his eyes, he saw Hanleigh moving alone up the slope toward the cabin. A sudden inspiration struck Frank.
“Let's get the goods on him, Joe. How about using your self-developing camera? You can photograph Hanleigh from here with the telescopic lens.”
“Great idea!” Joe exclaimed. “He'd probably deny he was on this island. If we have proof he was there, we may be able to bluff him into telling us what he's after.”
Joe, too, took a hasty look through the binoculars before passing them on to Chet, then removed the camera from its case, focused it, and clicked the shutter. “I'll leave the print in the camera until we get back. Let's go!”
“Wait a second!” exclaimed Frank, who had taken over the glasses again.
“What's Hanleigh doing now?” Biff asked as Frank shifted the binoculars slightly.
“He's circling the cabin—hey! He's stopping at the chimney! Looks as if he's examining it.”
Hanleigh had a stick with which he tapped and poked at the stonework. Presently he stopped and disappeared among the trees.
“Bet he's leaving,” said Frank. “Come on, fellows!”
The boys hurried from the cabin, donned their snowshoes again, and made their way down the slope. Soon they reached the
Sea
Gull. All climbed aboard except Biff who pushed the iceboat to a running start.
As the Gull swooped across the cove to Cabin Island, Joe pointed toward the entrance to the bay. “Hanleigh's leaving. There goes the
Hawk!”
Biff turned the binoculars on the speeding craft and shook his head. “Hanleigh isn't aboard. Ike and Tad are alone.”
“Hanleigh must still be on the island!” Joe cried out. “Hurry, Frank!”
“Right!” His brother skillfully maneuvered the
Sea
Gull, taking full advantage of every gust of wind. “No doubt Ike and Tad will come back for Hanleigh later,” Frank added as he steered for the boathouse.
“Later? It's nearly evening already!” Chet observed. “I'll bet that guy plans to stay all night!”
Biff hooted. “Where would he sleep? Under a rock?”
Joe looked thoughtful. “Maybe you have something, Chet. Hanleigh may know of a secret shelter on the island—perhaps a cave somewhere along the shore.”
Frank brought the
Sea Gull
to the boathouse, and as he put it inside, the boys discussed the strange action of Ike and Tad.
“I wonder why they took off,” Joe said. “We heard them agreeing to spy on Hanleigh, but now for some reason they seem to have changed their minds.”
“Maybe those two have deliberately stranded Hanleigh!” Frank exclaimed.
“You mean,” said his brother, “Ike and Tad tried to cash in on Hanleigh's deal, and he told them to get lost.”
“Right,” said Frank. “So now they're getting even by leaving him marooned here.”
Carrying their snowshoes, the four strode through the deep snowdrifts toward the cabin. Darkness was coming on rapidly, and they moved like stealthy Indians, keeping a wary lookout for the intruder. However, they saw no sign of their enemy either on the way or near the cabin.
Cautiously Frank opened the door, entered, and lit the lamp. The place looked untouched. Everyone crowded in.
“Brr-r!” Chet shivered. “It's icy in here. Let's get a fire going.”
Soon a cheerful blaze was crackling in the fireplace, and a woodstove fire added its warmth.
“Boy, that heat sure feels good,” Chet said gratefully, rubbing his hands together over the potbellied stove. “Now for some chow!”
“Hold it!” Frank said. “We still haven't located Hanleigh. If he's not here in the cabin—”
“We don't know that for certain,” Joe cut in. “There's one place we still haven't looked.”
“Where?” Biff asked.
“The attic.”
Frank snapped his fingers. “You're right—I forgot that. We'd better check.”
“Give me a boost,” Joe said, “and I'll soon find out.”
Frank and Biff each took one of Joe's legs and hoisted him toward the ceiling. Pushing open the trap door, Joe clambered up into the attic and shone his flashlight all around through the chilly, musty darkness.
“How about it?” Frank called impatiently from below.
“No sign of him.”
The others were uneasily silent as Joe lowered himself through the ceiling opening again and dropped to the floor, letting the trap door fall shut behind him.
Then Biff voiced what each boy was thinking. “Hanleigh's got to be somewhere on this island—unless he hiked back to the mainland.”
“Well, there's only one way to make sure,” said Joe.
Chet gave a groan. “Good grief! Don't tell me we have to go out and beat the bushes again. I'm starved!”
“Guess we all are,” Frank said with a wry grin. “But I agree with Joe. If Hanleigh's skulking around the island anywhere, we'd better find him —and the sooner the better.”
“Check! We sure don't want that creep coming back in the middle of the night to play any dirty tricks on us,” Biff pointed out.
Chet's plump, ruddy cheeks turned a shade paler at the prospect of another night of ghostly episodes. “Okay, okay,” he said hastily. “Let's get it over with.”
Pulling on their heavy jackets again, the boys went outdoors to make a thorough search. Flashlight beams probed behind trees and into clumps of bushes. An hour later they met inside the cabin, tired and cold. They had not found their quarry, nor any hiding place where he might take shelter overnight.
Frowning, Joe flung off his outdoor clothes and sat down cross-legged on the braided rug in front of the hearth.
“Hanleigh must have sneaked across the ice,” he concluded, poking the fire.
Frank thrust his fists into his pockets. “I'm going to find out what that guy was doing here!” he declared.
“Well, I've had enough mystery for a while,” Chet spoke up. “I'm starting dinner!” The plump boy headed for the kitchen. A moment later he came running back to the living room. “It's gone!” he wailed.
“What's gone?” Frank asked.
“The food! There's not a bit left!”
“Hanleigh, I'll bet!” Biff declared angrily.
“Chet,” Joe queried, “are you sure the food is not there?”
“Yes! Last night I put the cartons of grub we didn't use in the cabinets. You fellows saw me!”
For a moment the four hungry boys stared at one another in dismay. Then Frank said, “I can't believe Hanleigh came here to steal our food. Probably he hid the supplies just to inconvenience us so we'd leave. Let's check to see if they're stashed somewhere in the cabin.”
The food could not be found. “We'll have to go to town for more groceries,” Chet urged.
“It's too dark to take the
Sea
Gull out,” Frank reminded him.
“We could always go home for supplies,” said Chet.
“Not me!” exclaimed Joe. “No sirree!” He grinned wryly. “I can hear Aunt Gertrude saying, ‘I told you so.'”
“We'd look like great detectives,” his brother agreed, “when somebody can steal the food right out from under our noses.”
“That's right,” said Biff. “Besides, it's a long cold walk to the car.”
“Oh, no!” Chet moaned as he sank down on the sofa, his hands on his ample stomach. “I'll starve!”
“Not for a month or two,” Biff assured him.
“Hanleigh's mighty eager to have us give up this vacation,” Joe said thoughtfully. “I wish we knew why.”
“Of course we don't know for sure he did steal the food,” Frank stated. “Maybe somebody else was here and took it.”
“Well, at least we have proof Hanleigh was on the island while we were away,” Joe reminded the others. “I'll get that photo!”
He opened the camera and removed the snapshot. The young detective studied the picture, then gave a low whistle of surprise.
“What is it?” Frank asked as he, Chet, and Biff hurried over.
“Hanleigh's not alone!” Joe exclaimed.
The photograph showed him standing by the chimney, holding the stout stick with which he had been tapping and poking. Some distance behind him, partially hidden among the trees, was another figure. The stranger was dark and slim and was dressed in a long, flowing white robe. A turban covered his head!
CHAPTER XI
A Cryptic Notation
“THE ghost that Chet saw!” Frank exclaimed as he stared at the snapshot of the white-robed man.
“Y-you think so?” Chet asked incredulously.
“It could be!” Joe declared. “I wonder who this person is, how he got here, and where he is now.”
“Perhaps he came with Hanleigh,” Biff suggested.
“I doubt it,” Frank replied. “Look at the way the fellow's standing back in the shadow of the trees, almost as if he was spying on Hanleigh.”
Frank paused, then added, “First thing tomorrow Joe and I will go to the mainland and phone Ike and Tad. If they're sore at Hanleigh, maybe they'll give us a lead on what his game is.”
“Yes, and we'll ask if they're running taxi service for a ghost!” Joe grinned.
“Maybe this turbaned fellow stole our food,” Chet remarked. “Say, what are we going to do about that?”
Frank laughed. “Tomorrow Joe and I will buy supplies. But you and Biff will have to stay and guard the island.”
“I'll admit I'm hungry as a bear, too,” Joe said.
“Likewise!” Biff put in.
“Well, fellows,” Chet began sheepishly, “I—er—forgot about this until now, but—er—we can have a snack.”
The others stared at the rotund youth, who reddened as he explained. “When I made sandwiches for lunch, I put some away—in case of emergency!”
“Where are they?” asked Joe. “We searched all over this place!”
Chet went into the bedroom he and Biff shared and returned with five thick sandwiches in a large plastic bag.
“Come on! Where'd you hide them?” Biff asked.
“In the bottom of my sleeping bag.”
“You weren't thinking of an emergency!” Joe scoffed. “This was to be your midnight snack!”
“Aren't you glad!” Chet countered.
“You win,” Frank said, and they devoured the sandwiches.
Early the next morning Frank and Joe felt insistent fingers tapping them awake. “Get up!” Chet implored. “You have to go after groceries.”
The Hardys dressed hurriedly. Frank told Biff and Chet, “While we're away, you might search the island for our stolen grub. Chances are that Hanleigh hid it all in one place not far from the cabin.”
Frank and Joe glided off in the iceboat, steered out of the cove, and soon were tying up at a nearby coastal summer resort named Surfside. The boys walked to the deserted main street. “Place is really hopping, isn't it?” Frank chuckled, surveying the tiny, weatherworn houses, many of them boarded up.
BOOK: The Mystery of Cabin Island
10.17Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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