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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

The Viking Symbol Mystery (9 page)

BOOK: The Viking Symbol Mystery
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“But not Joe,” the detective said.
“What does this mean?” Inspector Knight asked, greatly perplexed.
Moving away from the reception desk, Mr. Hardy stripped off his mustache and wig. He introduced himself quickly to the Canadian police officer, then explained, “I thought I would be able to foil the rune stone crooks by coming up here in disguise—make them think I was still in Bayport.” He chuckled. “I didn't figure on getting caught by my own son!”
“I'm sorry, Dad,” Joe said. “Guess maybe I spoiled your plan.”
“I doubt it,” Mr. Hardy said, putting an arm around his son's shoulders. “You boys were really on the alert—I'm proud of you!”
He turned to Inspector Knight. “As long as we're both here, perhaps we can compare notes on this case.”
“Fine, Mr. Hardy,” said the inspector. “I've wanted to meet you for a long time. Only I'm afraid my department hasn't turned up any new leads to that impostor or to the stolen stone and money.”
“How is Mr. Baker-Jones?” Joe asked.
“The hospital told me this morning,” Inspector Knight replied, “that he is improving, but still in no condition to answer questions.”
“Well, we'll keep working on the case,” Mr. Hardy promised.
The Bayport group said good-by to the officers, then went back to the detective's hotel room for a conference.
Joe told his father about the knife thrower and gave him details of the Fort Smith and Slave River trip. He explained where Frank and Caribou were and about their continuing hunt for the stolen float plane. Mr. Hardy was especially interested to hear that they had found one of the gas drums and a wrench from Yellowknife Lodge.
Joe asked, “Dad, have you had any more news from Sam Radley?”
“Yes,” replied the detective. “Just before I left home I had a report. Sam thinks the lodge thefts gang is still operating around Great Slave Lake. He, Biff, and Tony have traced them as far as the town of Snowdrift. That's the last I've heard.”
Joe looked thoughtful. “Dad,” he said, “I have a hunch there might be another motive behind these lodge thefts besides burglary. The gang might be using the stolen float plane for some other purpose.”
“You have a point there, Joe,” his father agreed. “Finding the plane would be a big step in cracking the case.”
“We'll get back to Fort Smith as early as possible tomorrow,” Joe proposed, “and help Frank and Caribou search by air.”
“Good,” said the detective. “I'll remain here in case I can speak with Mr. Baker-Jones.”
Chet offered to make reservations for a morning flight. This done, the three showered, then had a juicy steak supper.
Afterward, Joe sent a telegram to the Hudson's Bay Company store at Fort Smith telling Frank that he and Chet would be there before noon the next day. After a quick breakfast the following morning, Joe and Chet took the plane back to Fort Smith. When they landed, Frank and Caribou were waiting at the airport to greet them.
“What's new?” Frank asked.
“Our dad has changed his name,” said Joe, grinning, and told the story.
Frank laughed heartily.
“I've arranged to rent a float plane,” he said. “It's moored at a dock on the river.”
“Today,” Caribou boomed, “our luck will be better! We search by air for the stolen plane.”
Shortly afterward, with Frank at the controls, the foursome took off. Soon they were clear of the airfield and circling over and away from the town of Fort Smith. “We'll fly a box search, south of Great Slave Lake and west of Snowdrift,” Frank announced. “Keep your eyes open for any sign of the stolen plane.”
The four were silent as they peered intently out the windows. They flew for an hour in the planned pattern. Not one of the searchers spotted the slightest clue to the missing craft.
“
Bon tonnerre
!” Caribou burst out finally. “These woods are too thick to see into!”
The plane droned on, over one small lake after another. Chet's head was nodding sleepily when Joe called out, “I see something!” He pointed to an L-shaped body of water. “There's the plane!”
“Sacrebleu!”
Caribou thundered. “We find it!”
The young pilot banked the light plane around and they went down low, retracing their course over the lake. The craft Joe had sighted was resting in the middle of the water. The trees at the edge of the lake were tall and the undergrowth thick.
“It's going to be tricky to land down there,” Frank said, circling again. “But here goes!”
He cut the engine enough to sideslip the plane over the high trees and onto the surface of the lake. As they straightened out for the downwind leg of the approach, Joe suddenly shouted to Frank.
“It's just an old wreck! One of the wings is in the water!”
“We're already committed to this landing,” Frank told him. “We'll have to go ahead.” The plane continued to drop into the landing position. Frank lowered the rudder and started pulling the throttle back.
Suddenly Caribou shouted, “Watch out! Logs!”
Directly beyond and just under the surface of the water, they could see a twisted tangle of rough logs. The float plane was heading right for them!
Frank jammed the throttle ahead, then eased back on the stick gradually.
“Too much lift will throw us into a stall,” he told himself.
From behind came Chet's frantic cry. “The trees! Watch the trees!”
Frank's brow glistened with perspiration as he manipulated the stick gently. The dark woods loomed up ahead of them as their old plane climbed slowly. The boys gritted their teeth and Caribou clenched his seat belt until his knuckles grew white.
Would they gain altitude in time to avoid a crash?
CHAPTER XI
Surprise Tactics
“HANG on!” Frank shouted, holding the throttle hard ahead.
The plane banked sharply on its side. As the towering black-green spruce trees loomed up at them, the three passengers braced themselves for a collision.
But the old craft responded instantly and slipped across the trees, riding on the left wing. The boys could hear the boughs scrape the underside of the plane. The floats jerked as they were caught momentarily, then released by the tree-tops.
Frank righted the plane, pulling back hard on the stick. The craft was in the clear!
“Whew!” He let out his breath slowly, blinking as his taut nerves relaxed. “That was a tight one!” He could hear sighs of relief from his companions.
Joe leaned forward in his seat and gripped Frank's shoulder. “Pretty fancy flying, brother!” he said, and Chet and Caribou added their praise.
“It was a good workout,” Frank said modestly. “Now back to the search.”
He circled the aircraft over the lake again, staying higher this time. Grimly Joe pointed to the submerged logs on each side of the wrecked plane. They were roped together.
“Those logs were put there deliberately,” he said. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to booby-trap us!”
“The thieves know we hunt for them,” Caribou muttered. “We must be very careful!”
The plane cruised over the lake and wooded area again. There was no one in sight, nor was there any trace of a plane.
“Wonder where the gang found that wreck?” Joe mused.
“It could have been abandoned somewhere in these woods,” Frank suggested. “And they dragged it out onto the lake.”
“That would have been a tough job,” Chet remarked.
“Let's get back to Fort Smith and report this to the Mounties,” Frank suggested. “Maybe they know something about it.”
The others agreed, and they headed back to town. As they approached the landing, Frank radioed ahead for clearance. When he set down he taxied straight to the RCMP jetty. They went at once to the office. Corporal Fergus was there and listened intently to their story.
“Could that abandoned plane have been found in the woods, Corporal?” asked Frank.
“One
was
wrecked up there in the bush some time ago,” Fergus replied. “Whoever dragged it out to the lake must know the area well.”
“Why?” Chet asked.
“Not too many people were familiar with the location of that wreck,” the corporal answered.
“Would Abner Dulac be familiar with that territory, Caribou?” Frank asked suddenly.
“Oui.”
Caribou nodded. “That Dulac run his traplines through there many times.”
“I've been trying to figure out why Dulac trailed us from Edmonton,” Frank said. “One reason could be he's mixed up with the rune stone theft.”
“Sounds possible,” Joe agreed. “And he either was on his way to warn his buddies about us, or wanted to stop our sleuthing cold—or both.”
“He is a snake. He would do it,” Caribou declared angrily.
Corporal Fergus said he would send several Mounted Police up to the area of the abandoned plane to look around. If they reported anything suspicious, he would let the Hardys know.
When the brothers and their friends started back along the jetty toward their craft, Joe suddenly stopped. “There's a guy nosing around our plane.”
Quickly the three boys ran down the jetty. By now the fellow was leaning over, the upper half of his body inside the plane. Frank grasped him by the arm and pulled him up.
“Biff!” he shouted in surprise. “Boy, it's good to see you. But what are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” the lanky boy replied, grinning. “Your father cabled Sam, telling us where to reach you.” He added that Tony and Radley were in the town of Hay River.
After Caribou joined them and introductions were made, Biff explained, “We tracked the gang to Hay River—west of the mouth of Slave River. But they're plenty shrewd at eluding us. So Sam wants you all to come up and join forces with us. I came in on the early-morning plane.”
The Hardys and Chet then brought Biff up to date on their own experiences and detective work—both on the Viking rune stone mystery and the lodge thefts case.
“I hate to give up the search for Keating and his fuel drums,” Frank concluded. “And I'd like to find out if Abner Dulac is mixed up with the thieves.”
“Me, too!” Caribou put in hotly. “You boys go to Hay River. I will stay here and watch for Dulac.”
“All right, Caribou,” Frank agreed, smiling at the trapper. “You can have first crack at your friend Dulac!”
“Bon tonnerre!”
Caribou exploded. “Friend, never!”
After the boys had attended to having the rented plane fueled and checked out, they had lunch, then bid good-by to the French-Canadian. Joe slid into the pilot's seat, and with Frank, Chet, and Biff as passengers, taxied out onto the river. The take-off was smooth and rapid and soon the plane was heading out over the dense spruce forest on the northwestern route to the town of Hay River.
When they came in sight of the town, Joe landed the float plane and tied up at an airfield jetty. The four jumped out and Biff led them down the main street to a small frame hotel where Sam Radley and Tony were waiting.
“Hi! Swell to see you!” they were greeted excitedly. Sam Radley, a man of medium height, wiry build, and thinning sandy hair, pumped their hands.
The groups exchanged accounts of their recent activities on the mysteries.
“There's no doubt,” said Sam, “that the gang we're after has some thoroughly experienced woodsmen.”
“We feel they're close by,” added Tony, “and so do the Mounties.”
“The thieves' operations seem to center around lodges on the shore of Great Slave Lake,” Sam continued. “So far, they've never stolen from places inland.”
Frank said thoughtfully, “It could be coincidence of course—but the locale of these lodge thefts and the finding of the Viking rune stone is the same—Great Slave Lake.”
Joe threw his brother a keen glance. “In other words, you think it
isn't
coincidence—that there's a connection between the two mysteries.”
“Yes,” Frank replied with conviction. “For two reasons: our radio antenna was knocked down while Dad was receiving your report on the lodge thefts, Sam. Kelly could have been eavesdropping outside. And,” he went on, “Kelly is also a suspect in the missing rune stone case.”
Joe broke in. “That means those new hundred-dollar bills stolen from Caribou and the ones used to pay for the fuel drums in Fort Smith are from the same batch of money.”
Frank looked excited. “If our theory's right, we're after the same bunch of thieves—not two separate gangs!”
“In that case,” said Sam Radley, “it's a good thing we did get together on the mysteries.”
The six friends continued their speculations until bedtime. The next morning after breakfast Frank and Joe decided to scout the Great Slave Lake area around Hay River. The Hardys flew off, turning east toward the mouth of Slave River.
As they flew along the southern shore, cruising at a low altitude, Joe said excitedly, “I see a group of men below. They're digging!”
“And it obviously isn't a well, from the rectangular shape of the hole,” Frank commented, after circling over the figures below. “My guess is they're looking for something.”
“If it's any kind of a legitimate enterprise, I imagine the Mounties at Hay River will know about it,” Joe suggested. “Let's go back and check!”
When they returned and told their friends about the excavation, Sam Radley looked puzzled and at once called the Hay River RCMP station. When he returned, he said, “The officers there know nothing about any digging in this vicinity.”
BOOK: The Viking Symbol Mystery
13.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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