The wiry little figure of Willie the Penman rounded the corner, followed by a hulking cowboy.
Frank and Joe delivered a couple of stiff punches, but the odds were against them. The battle was over almost before it began.
Wiping the sweat from his face, Willie stood before Frank and Joe, held firmly in viselike grips by his companions.
“So you got out of the cooler, eh?” he whined. “Well, wise guys, you won’t outsmart us again!”
Turning to the other men, he ordered, “Tie ’em up—tight!”
Two men went to the barn and returned with lengths of bailing wire. Twisting it roughly around the boys’ wrists and ankles, they made certain that Frank and Joe could not move.
Willie said to Snide, “I’m ready to take off. Just be sure these kids don’t pull any fast ones.”
“Don’t worry,” Snide replied. “They’re going to stay put.”
“Okay. I’m late now. Mrs. Sanderson will be heartbroken if I don’t keep our little date.”
“Sure you got all the papers for her to sign, Willie?” Snide asked. “Now that we’re getting this close, we don’t want no slip-up with the law.”
“I’m no amateur,” Willie said, annoyance in his voice. “She’ll sign everything legal and proper. If she don’t, I’ll tell her about Harry!”
The boys looked at each other in mystified silence. What had Willie meant? Was Harry Sanderson in trouble? If so, that would mean he had not delivered their message for help.
Willie called for one of the horses and rode off in the direction of the Sanderson ranch.
The rest watched until he was out of sight, whereupon Snide turned to the Hardys.
He prodded Joe with a foot. “How’d you jerks get here, anyway?” he rasped.
Receiving no answer, he continued, “Oh, more heroic guys, eh, like your friends in the cave?”
He was interrupted by a sudden shout. “Hey, here’s how the bozos got here!”
One of the cowboys appeared from behind the barn, leading the mule. “Ain’t this the critter we snatched?” Snide asked. “We’ll use him to carry more dynamite,” he added. “Let’s move.”
“Where to?”
“We’ll hit the swamp and check up on the oil-rig stuff before we start drilling.”
Frank was thrown over the front of Snide’s horse, and Joe against the pommel of a cowboy’s mount. Doubled up in this uncomfortable manner, they were carried toward Wildcat Swamp.
By the time they came in view of the ridge overlooking the swamp, the boys were aching in every muscle.
“Keep these kids tied up,” Snide ordered, “and haul ’em down with us.”
The party descended from the narrow ledge toward the pit in which the fossils lay. There, still firmly in place, was the ominous sign: DANGER. EXPLOSIVES BURIED.
“One move out of you guys, and you’re dead pigeons,” Snide warned. “This place is loaded.”
Frank and Joe were dragged from the horses. They were made to sit down on the ground, with their backs against rock shafts. Then they were securely tied to the shafts.
In plain sight, across the swamp, sloped the heavily wooded mountain. Barely jutting above it, like a tiny cheesebox, was the old fire tower.
Frank and Joe shared the same flash of understanding. This must be the tower Willie had mentioned back at the sheriff’s ranch.
Twisting slightly, Joe tried to catch Frank’s eye. But the movement arrested Snide’s attention.
“Listen!” he growled. “I warned you two about moving around. Cut it out! We want you alive when your father gets here. Then we’ll take all three of you to the tower and—”
Boom!
The blast thundered between the hills that surrounded Wildcat Swamp, echoing over the valley. Snide’s flat nose purpled in growing anger.
“What idiot set off that dynamite ahead of time?” he roared. “I’ll break his fool neck.”
“Not that fool’s neck,” one of the cowboys said sardonically. “He probably blew himself to bits.”
“Yeah? Well, we’re lucky that mountain’s still there! What you cowpokes don’t know about explosives would fill a book!”
“Don’t get upset, Snide,” the cowboy said reassuringly. “There’s plenty more dynamite left.”
“I’ll check on that myself,” Snide said importantly. “And maybe we won’t put off the business of the tower any more, either. We can take care of the Hardys another way.”
The outlaws mounted their horses, and, riding down the slope toward the edge of the swamp, soon were out of sight.
Frank and Joe looked at each other. “If they stay away long enough, Cap and Chet may come here and rescue us,” Joe said.
“I sure hope so!” Frank said.
“Do you believe that stuff about explosives being buried here?” Joe queried.
“They sure didn’t seem to walk around very carefully,” Frank observed. “And even if there is dynamite buried here, I don’t believe it can be set off just by stepping on it. They were hoping to scare us into sitting still.”
“I guess you’re right—and that means we can try to get loose!”
Encouraged by this idea, they struggled hard with their bonds.
“Try rubbing the wire up and down on the rock,” Joe suggested. “Maybe it’ll snap.”
But this was a hopeless effort. Every movement they made only rubbed skin off their wrists. Time dragged on and nobody came.
Frank had lapsed into thoughtful silence. He began going over the entire mystery, step by step. When his mind conjured up the picture of the three phony rangers, dressed in their ill-fitting uniforms, he suddenly exclaimed:
“Joe, we have to get over to that tower, pronto!”
“Why?”
“I have a hunch,” Frank said excitedly. “From what Snide said, I figure three real rangers are imprisoned there—and Sheriff Paul, too!”
“I get it,” Joe said. “The men whose uniforms they stole.”
“Right,” Frank continued, “and after Willie got all the papers signed, the rangers were going to be released. But not now. I think we’ve forced their hand.”
“How?”
“We came along and found out what’s going on,” Frank reasoned. “Now those thieves will have to do away with every one of us.”
Cap and Chet, meanwhile, still sore and stiff after their captivity in the cave, were riding toward the Sanderson ranch house. Approaching it, Chet pointed to a horse tethered in front.
“That’s not Harry’s,” he said, reining in.
“Then we’d better find out who’s here before we barge in,” Cap decided.
“If we tie our horses among these trees,” Chet suggested, “we can slip up to the house from the other side of the barn and look in.”
It took several minutes for them to circle around and approach the place from its blind side. Peering from the shadow of the adjacent barn, neither Cap nor Chet could see anyone. Stealthily they tiptoed across the yard and crept to an open window.
Cap cautiously raised his head until his eyes were on a level with the sill. He peered into the Sanderson living room. Almost immediately he ducked, turned, and waved to Chet to take a look.
Chet’s hurried glance revealed Willie the Penman, seated at a table with Mrs. Sanderson. The forger was handing her a pen.
“You may as well sign this document,” Willie was saying, “and get it over with.”
“Oh, I wish my husband were still alive!” Mrs. Sanderson sobbed. “He’d know what to do.”
“Harry says it’s best,” came Willie’s high-pitched tones. “And he talked it over with those Hardy kids.”
Cap’s hand tightened on Chet’s shoulder. The science teacher pointed to the ranch-house door, standing ajar. Silently they crept to the entrance.
“Oh, all right, give me the pen. I’ll sign,” they heard the bewildered woman say resignedly.
“Now!” Cap commanded, and charged into the house with Chet behind him.
/> Like twin thunderbolts, they landed on Willie’s back. Surprised, the wily criminal tried desperately to pull his gun. But Chet knocked it across the room. Ten seconds later Willie was stretched out helpless on the floor.
“Don’t be frightened!” Cap told Harry’s terrified mother. “We’re friends of the Hardy boys,” and he introduced himself and Chet. “This forger,” he went on, “has been trying to bilk you out of your land.”
After Cap had explained the situation to Mrs. Sanderson, the woman burst into tears of relief.
“Have you seen Harry?” she asked.
Before Cap or Chet could answer, Willie suddenly spoke up. “I know where he is! In trouble! And so are Frank and Joe Hardy.”
“Where are they?” Cap demanded.
“Will you let me go if I tell you? Give me a half hour’s start, and I promise I won’t go back to the gang. And I’ll tell you how to save the three kids.”
Cap and Chet looked at each other, then at Mrs. Sanderson.
“Can we believe him?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t trust this man any farther than I can throw him!” Chet said. “He’d go right to the gang and warn them, and there’s no telling what they’d do to our friends.”
“He’s right,” Cap said to Mrs. Sanderson.
Just then there was the sound of hoofbeats outside. Hurrying to the window, the woman exclaimed, “It’s Mrs. Paul and two deputies!”
The sheriff’s wife said she was searching for her husband. “I’m afraid he’s lying hurt somewhere, so I asked Bill and Ted to help me find him.”
“Why don’t you stay with me?” Mrs. Sanderson suggested. “Bill and Ted can take this thief to Red Butte and lock him up.”
Cap, who did not put much stock in Willie’s dire assertion, nevertheless asked the deputies to find out if the Hardys had reached Red Butte. He and Chet would go back to the fossil pit in case Frank and Joe should return.
“And please look for Harry,” Mrs. Sanderson begged the deputies.
The lawmen nodded and left with their glowering prisoner. Chet asked Mrs. Sanderson if they might borrow some tools, and after getting them, he and Cap started for the fossil area.
Meanwhile, Frank and Joe, sitting against the rocks to which they were bound, heard furtive footsteps in the defile above them.
“Somebody’s coming!” Joe warned.
Listening intently, they heard the clatter of a dislodged stone. Then, as a head came cautiously into view around the ledge, Frank and Joe shouted in relief.
“Harry Sanderson! Hurry up and untie us!”
While untwisting the Hardys’ wire bonds, Harry was told what had happened to them. Then he in turn related the story of his own capture.
“How’d you get loose?” Frank asked.
“Rolled off my horse and cut the ropes on a sharp rock. I figured it would be too late to get help for you boys. So I rode back to the Paul ranch. When I saw all the hoofprints headed this way, I was sure you were prisoners, so I came along.”
After the Hardys had told Harry the news about Willie, Joe pointed to the old fire tower.
“Our problem,” he said, “is to get to that place without horses. We think the sheriff and three rangers are being held up there.”
“It’s not as great a problem as you think,” Harry said. “I know a safe way through the swamp. Follow me.” He hid his horse in a thicket and set out on foot.
Harry’s route to the tower was surprisingly short. He seemed to have an uncanny knowledge of the bog, leading the Hardys along high spots and across a series of hummocks. Soon the three stood at the foot of the mountain and looked up.
It seemed like an impossible climb, but the boys started up the steep slope on hands and knees, Sharp rocks cut their boots, and saplings which they grabbed for support pulled out of the thin soil. Finally they clambered to the flat stretch of ground on which the fire tower was built.
The gray, rickety wooden structure, standing in the center of a clearing bounded by scrubby trees, seemed to be deserted.
The boys looked around for possible guards, but none were in sight. Cautiously the three advanced and went to the door in the base of the tower. It had been forced open and hung by one hinge.
Frank and Joe stepped gingerly inside. Harry followed.
“Stand guard,” Frank told the boy.“Yell if anyone shows up, then run to a safe place.”
Harry took up a position behind the broken door as Frank and Joe started to climb the creaking wooden stairway.
“I hope these steps hold us, Joe!”
The stairs clung to the wall, ascending in steep, right-angled turns. At each step the Hardys took, the tower trembled.
Finally they reached the floor of the observation tower. No one was there.
“Guess we were wrong,” said Joe.
“Maybe not.”
Gazing at the ceiling, Frank noticed that the boards did not match exactly.
“Joe! I believe there’s a trap door up there! Give me a boost.”
As Frank climbed to Joe’s shoulders, there was a sudden pounding above him. Then muffled cries of “Help! Help!”
Frank put his shoulder against the trap door and heaved. It yielded and he pulled himself up through the opening.
A strange sight greeted him. On the floor lay four unshaven, disheveled men, securely bound, but without gags. Three of them wore ill-fitting shirts and trousers. The fourth, a blond, ruddy man, was dressed in blue jeans, a plaid shirt, and a vest with a sheriff’s silver star on it.
As Frank pulled Joe up through the opening, the man with the star greeted them weakly. “I’m Sheriff Paul. These men are rangers.”
“We’re Frank and Joe Hardy. You have to get out of here—fast!” Joe said quickly. “The tower may be blown up any minute!”
With lightning speed, they unbound the prisoners and helped them down to the observation tower. The released men, hardly able to stand, crawled down the stairway.
As they made the perilous descent, Frank and Joe asked, “Who brought you here, Sheriff?”
“All I know is that I received a phone call about some missing rangers. When I went to investigate, three men jumped me.”
“Our dad’s been captured, too,” Frank said as they neared the base of the tower. “He was after a gang of train robbers when they got him.”
“Is Fenton Hardy your dad?”
When the boys nodded, the sheriff said warmly, “Mr. Hardy has a great reputation among us lawmen. I sure hope no harm has come to him.”
The minutes required to reach the bottom of the tower seemed like hours, but finally Joe hit the last step. Harry’s eyes popped when he saw the sheriff and the rangers. When the boy reported that nobody had come in view, Frank urged, “Quick! Run for it. This place may be dynamited any minute!”
No sooner had they dashed through the doorway to the edge of the clearing than they heard an ominous rumble.
“Down!” Frank shouted. “Cover up!”
As they pitched themselves headlong, the earth behind them split open with a shattering roar. The tower bulged at the bottom and started to collapse.
CHAPTER XX
The Roundup
“SAFE!”
Sheriff Paul’s whisper broke the silence after the tremendous blast and crash of the tower.
As they all looked back in awe at the mass of debris, one of the rangers said, “If we’d even been in the clearing, we might have been killed.”
“The danger isn’t over yet,” Sheriff Paul reminded them. “That gang will be coming up to check on their job. Let’s put some distance between them and us!”
Hurriedly the group moved cautiously down the steep slope, finally stopping to rest in a quiet glade near the base of the mountain.
“With Chet and Cap out of the cave, the next step is to find Dad,” Frank proposed.
Then the brothers told about their escape from the refrigerator car, the train wreck, and the capture of one of the truck drivers. When they related how
they had persuaded Charlie, the driver’s helper, to help them, the sheriff showed keen interest.
“You say his name is Charlie? Say, that might be Charlie Brace, one of the local boys here.”
When the Hardys described their new ally, the sheriff nodded. “That’s Charlie, all right. A nice young fellow, but he’s been getting mixed up with a bad crowd lately.”
“Well, now he’s going straight,” Joe said. “At least we hope he is.”
After discussing what their next move should be, it was decided that they would go to the site where the oil-drilling equipment was cached.
“No doubt we’ll find some of the gang there,” the sheriff observed, “and maybe we can surprise them and nab a few at a time.”
They had barely started in the direction of the gang’s stockpile when they heard the distant rumble of a motor.
“Sounds like a heavy truck,” Joe said.
“Must be on that old logging trail over the next rise,” the sheriff said. “Hurry. We’ll see who it is.”
Careful to conceal themselves in the natural cover, they reached the old trail in time to see a truck stop a short distance away. The driver hopped out.
“Charlie!” the Hardys gasped, and Sheriff Paul nodded. Had he kept his promise? the boys wondered as they watched his actions.
The young fellow seemed to be waving at someone he could see through the trees. Four men emerged from the woods to join Charlie in the road.
Turk, Snide, and two others!
For a couple of minutes the five men stood talking in the center of the road.
Suddenly the back gate of the truck fell with a clatter—and out poured a swarm of men!
Frank’s eye caught the foremost of the new arrivals. “Dad!” he shouted.
“Jack Wayne and Sam Radley!” Joe yelled in astonishment.
At the same time the detective’s posse surrounded Turk, Snide, and the other two outlaws, disarming them and snapping handcuffs on each of them.
Charlie had kept his promise!
Overjoyed, the onlookers emerged from their hiding place. For a moment, all was confusion as Fenton Hardy greeted his sons and their friends.
“But, Dad, we thought you were hurt!” Frank exclaimed.
“No. Jack and I had a rough time, but we won the fight at the plane. Then I made Flint broadcast the story about our capture, to throw the rest of the gang off. Flint’s in jail, and so is Snake Fliegel.”
The Secret of Wildcat Swamp Page 11
