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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

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BOOK: The Viking Symbol Mystery
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There the brothers took the FAA test, which they passed with flying colors, and had SES, for single-engine seaplane, inscribed on their licenses.
Then Mr. and Mrs. Hardy drove the boys to the airport. After checking the luggage, Frank, Joe, and Chet shook hands with the detective. “Good luck on your part of the mystery, boys,” he said. “Be on your guard every minute. I'll be checking with you.”
“Right, Dad,” Joe said, and Frank added, “We'll get on the case as soon as we land.”
Chet grinned. “That's for surel”
Mrs. Hardy, although always a bit worried when her sons set off on a new mission, smiled as she kissed them all good-by. “Do take care of yourselves,” she cautioned.
A few minutes later the boys boarded the silver jetliner for Edmonton. By noon the plane was over Winnipeg and the passengers could see the wide prairies below. The flight had been smooth so far.
Joe was seated next to the window, enjoying the magnificent view. Frank and Chet were reading the flight-guide pamphlets. The stillness was broken by an announcement over the loudspeaker:
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Because of bad weather and turbulence over Edmonton, we are landing at Saskatoon. The delay probably will be overnight, but the stewardesses will give you complete details of your departure time and accommodations. Please fasten your seat belts.”
Within minutes the stewardesses had checked the passengers' belts and the jetliner began its descent. Frank pointed out the illustrations in the pamphlet of Saskatoon and the Canadian Air Force training craft stationed there.
As they dropped over the runway, Joe leaned close to the window for a better view. “There's one of the training planes now!” He pointed to a dark-gray craft landing on a parallel runway.
At that moment there was a
swo-o-o-sh
as the jetliner leveled out and the wheels caught the field. Joe craned his neck to watch the gray plane.
Suddenly there was a loud
swish
and a bang, and the tire of the jet's starboard side blew out. The plane rocked violently to one side.
Wh-a-am!
Joe was thrown against the window, hitting his head on the frame. He saw swirling lights, then everything went black.
When Joe opened his eyes and things began to come back into focus, he looked up into the face of a stewardess who was dabbing his forehead with a cold, wet cloth.
“What happened?” he asked dazedly.
“You hit your head!” the girl said, looking concerned. “Are you all right?”
“I think I am now,” Joe said, grinning. “No permanent dents!”
“Don't scare us like that again, boy,” said Frank, as he and Chet smiled in relief.
“That'll teach me to look out the window when we're landing.” Joe ruefully rubbed his throbbing head.
When they disembarked, the three boys were directed to a modern Saskatoon hotel. En route, they made a tour of the city and saw its mammoth grain elevators.
Chet grinned. “They look like out-of-place skyscrapers!”
The following morning dawned clear and sunny. The jetliner left promptly, and after an uneventful trip, arrived in Edmonton before noon. The large airport there was busy with flights to and from Alaska, northern Canada, and the United States.
Before the Hardys and Chet deplaned they learned from a stewardess that Edmonton is the focal point of the mining and fur-producing regions of the Arctic. “Also,” she added, “it's a busy agricultural distributing center.”
The pleasant young woman wished them an enjoyable stay, then the three boys headed for the airport terminal building.
After claiming their bags, they taxied to a hotel and checked in. Then Frank said, “Now to visit Mr. Baker-Jones.”
They took a taxi to the Edmonton hospital. Here they were referred to the head nurse on the second floor. When they inquired about Peter Baker-Jones, she said:
“I'm sorry, but you can't see him. Mr. Baker-Jones is still in a coma, and as I told his other caller, we don't know how long it will be until he regains consciousness, poor man.”
“ ‘Other caller'!” Frank echoed. “Who was it?”
“A man named Fenton Hardy,” replied the nurse. “He left just a few minutes ago.”
“Dad?” Frank and Joe stared at each other.
“It couldn't have been,” Chet said, “unless your father took the next flight and wasn't stopped by the bad weather.”
“He never mentioned coming this soon,” Frank declared. “There's a phone booth. I'm going to call home and find out about this.”
Joe and Chet thought it a good idea and Frank placed the call to Bayport. Mr. Hardy answered the phone!
Frank burst out, “I knew you weren't here, Dad!”
“What do you mean by that?” Mr. Hardy asked with a slight chuckle. “Did you think I was?”
“No,” Frank replied, and explained, “One of the head nurses here at the Edmonton hospital told us you had been, and I'm sure many other people heard Fenton Hardy was here too. Dad, some man is impersonating you. He was just here trying to see Baker-Jones.”
“Be very careful,” cautioned Mr. Hardy, instantly serious. “I don't know why anyone would pose as me, unless it was to get some further valuable information from the Englishman in connection with the rune stone.”
“At least we're tipped off,” Frank answered. He assured his father that the boys were well and explained why the flight had arrived a day late.
“Check with the police and try to locate the man who found the rune stone,” the detective suggested, when he learned that the Englishman had not regained consciousness.
Frank said good-by and returned to Chet and Joe. When Joe heard that his father was home, he immediately hurried to the nurse and asked her for a description of Mr. Baker-Jones's caller. Her meager description could fit Fenton Hardy or hundreds of other men.
“No clue there,” he reported to the boys.
Discussing their next move, the trio started toward the elevator.
“I suppose the best place to get details of the attack on Baker-Jones is at police headquarters,” Frank said. “Let's go check.”
The boys were talking excitedly as they rounded the corner of the brightly lighted hall. They collided head on with a huge brawny figure.
“Bon tonnerre!”
he exclaimed in a deep booming voice. “What's this?”
The speaker was a powerful-looking man, well over six feet tall. His strong-featured face was covered by a thick, black beard, and he wore a red-and-black checkered wool shirt, dark pants, and heavy laced boots.
Joe staggered backward from the impact, bumping against the wall. The stranger reached out a huge hand, grasped Joe by the arm, and steadied him on his feet.
“Bon tonnerre!”
he shouted again.
CHAPTER VI
Canadian Giant
THE fingers holding Joe were like a steel vise.
“So-o sorry,” he apologized, staring up at the bearded man with whom he had collided. To his relief, Joe felt the powerful fingers relax their grip.
“Carefully, here!” boomed the stranger in a strong French-Canadian accent. “You should always look where you're going—especially in a hospital!”
“We realize that, sir,” Frank spoke up. “But we were hurrying to get to the police station.”
“Ah, the police,” the big man said. His eyes narrowed. “You were here to see Monsieur Baker-Jones, yes?”
The three boys said yes. Joe recovered his breath as the big man studied the visitors for a moment. His eyes were piercing, black, and shaded by thick brows.
“You're Pierre Caron!” Frank exclaimed suddenly.
The man stepped back warily, as he answered,
“Oui,
I am Pierre Caron, but I am called ‘Caribou.' ” He cocked his head and asked curiously, “Who are you?”
Frank introduced himself, Joe, and Chet, then explained the reason why they had come to see Baker-Jones.
“Does he speak now?” Caribou asked abruptly.
“No,” Joe answered him. “The nurse said he's still in a coma.”
“Bon tonnerre!”
the fur trapper exploded. “That is not good.” He added that he had been given special permission by Baker-Jones's doctor to visit the patient briefly every day. “But he never change,” the woodsman added sadly. “I hoped today he would be better.”
Frank told Caribou that they would like to hear his account of the assault by the rune stone thieves.
“We will talk while we eat,” Caribou said. He smiled broadly. “Come! Let us go!”
The powerful giant marched ahead to the elevator, which took them to the lobby. He pushed open the heavy front door and went on without breaking stride.
The three boys had to trot to keep up with Caribou, and they were still a few yards behind when he stopped at a crowded restaurant. As the trapper strode toward a table, three burly men shouted greetings to him from across the room. He grinned and waved to them vigorously.
“My friends from the north,” he said to the boys.
The big French-Canadian ordered a meal of steak, potatoes, and gravy for all. “First we eat,” he said, when Joe started to ask questions.
The Hardys and Chet grinned at one another. Instinctively they liked this excitable, forthright man of the woods.
After they had finished the hearty meal, Caribou leaned back in his chair and relaxed. Frank quickly explained his father's connection with the rune stone case and asked Pierre Caron for details of the robbery.
“Monsieur Baker-Jones asked me to come to his hotel room,” Caribou began. “I went and gave him the stone. He handed me two thousand dollars—in new one-hundred-dollar bills. I signed a paper saying he had paid me. Then—
bon tonnerre!-two
men rushed into the room.” The trapper stopped to drink some hot coffee.
“What did they look like?” Chet asked.
Caribou wiped his beard with a red handkerchief and pushed his chair back from the table again. In his excitement he began to speak in his native patois.
“I could not see faces. Both wear rubber face masks. One man was very thin. He was wearing checkered jacket—black and white. Other man wear dark city clothes.”
The boys were excited. “Then what?” Joe urged him.
“Thin man's pal never speak. He waved gun,” Caribou continued, “and force me to corner of room.
Bon tonnerre!”
His voice grew angry. “The thin man want the stone. When Monsieur Baker-Jones say no, he hit him on the head with a gun!”
The woodsman told the boys that the Englishman had collapsed. As Caribou had bent over him to help, the two gunmen had fled with the rune stone and the two thousand dollars.
The Hardys exchanged quick glances. Frank voiced their thought aloud. “The thin fellow could be a man we know as John Kelly!” The brothers told Caribou the story.
“He is a slippery eel!” growled the trapper. “You think he come back here?”
“I wouldn't doubt it,” Frank replied. “We aim to find him, anyway!”
“Where did you find the rune stone?” Joe asked Caribou.
The boys listened intently to his story. “I run my trapline between Fort Smith and Great Slave Lake,” he began. “Two, three weeks ago I made trip to the north end of the lake. I find the stone on the beach and—”
Suddenly the burly giant broke off. He sprang up from his chair violently, knocking over the table. Dishes and glasses flew in all directions, shattering on the floor as Caribou dashed to the front door.
“Come on!” Frank urged, leaping up.
The three boys dashed outside. When they reached Caribou he was standing on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, his fists clenched and his cheeks flushed with anger.
“Bon tonnerre!”
he boomed in rage.
“Sacrebleu!”
“What happened?” Joe asked. “Did you spot one of the thieves?”
“No. But I saw Dulac,” Caribou said, still looking up and down the street. “The weasel! He robs my traps. If I catch him—
bon tonnerre!
that will be his unlucky day!”
As they all walked back into the restaurant to pay their bill and settle for the broken dishes, Caribou explained that Abner Dulac also was a trapper. He had been stealing from Caribou's traps up north for a long time. Caribou once had given him a thrashing, but the big woodsman had never been able to catch him with any evidence.
“What's Dulac doing in Edmonton?” Frank asked.
“I don't know,” Caribou replied. “Probably he sell my pelts—or maybe he here to get even with me for that beating!” The giant shook his head disgustedly, then shrugged. “I forget him for now,” he said, and asked the boys, “Where you think to look for the men who robbed Monsieur Baker-Jones and me?”
The Hardys said they thought perhaps the thieves would have traveled north to hide out with their loot.
Caribou pounded his fist into the palm of his hand. “Then I will be your guide,” he offered. “I will help trap the robbers!”
“That would be great,” Joe said with a grin. “We'll need a guide in that country.”
“I'll say!” Chet declared thankfully.
“Our next move is to find out what the police here can tell us about the missing rune stone,” Frank said. “Come on!”
Caribou led the way, stalking along the side-walks as though he were still in the wilderness. At the ultramodern police headquarters the Hardys were directed to the office of Inspector Knight. He had no new information for them, however. The Edmonton police, working with the Mounties, had traced all the leads they had on the missing rune stone and stolen cash, but so far without success.
BOOK: The Viking Symbol Mystery
7.02Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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