The Secret of the Caves

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Chet interrupted. “Speaking of food, Commander, could you help us out with some breakfast?”

  “Sure, me hearties. Growing boys should eat plenty. Now what was I talking about? Oh, well, doesn’t matter.”

  A wink passed around the circle of friends as the man went inside and returned with a slab of bacon. Chet volunteered to start a fire, and got it going quickly as the old man cut strips of bacon and put them into a skillet.

  “How about a swim while we’re waiting?” Frank suggested.

  “Let’s go!” Joe shouted.

  The boys skinned off their clothes and ran into the surf. Joe swam beside his brother. “Frank, Wilson doesn’t sound much like an Englishman.”

  “I don’t think he has all his marbles,” Frank replied.

  “Do you think Wilson helped himself to our supplies?”

  “I didn’t see them in his cave,” Frank said, adding, “He seems harmless. I’d like to ask him some questions, though.”

  “And could I go for some crisp bacon! Race you back to shore!”

  Using the Australian crawl, the brothers streaked over the wave tops and hit shore together. There Biff and Chet joined them, and after they dressed, the refreshed quartet trotted up to Commander Wilson, who sat near the fire. The skillet lay at the sailor’s side—empty, and Wilson was chewing on the last piece of bacon. He looked up.

  “Who are you?” he asked bluntly.

  “The Hardy boys,” Frank began in surprise. “And—”

  “Well, beat it! Scram! I don’t want you around here!”

  CHAPTER XII

  Undercover Work

  COMMANDER WILSON’S gruff order to leave caused the four boys to stare at him in wonderment.

  “But, Commander,” Joe protested, “you—”

  “Don’t ‘Commander’ me!” the man said, rising to his feet and shaking his fist at the boys. “I want to be left alone! That’s why I’m a hermit.”

  Frank shook his head. “No use arguing, fellows,” he murmured. “Come on.”

  They strode away across the sand, with Chet muttering about the loss of a good meal.

  “That old sailor’s a real lulu,” Biff said, disgruntled. He glanced at Frank. “What’ll we do now?”

  “First thing is to get some food.”

  “And where is the food?” Biff asked sarcastically.

  “Maybe we can grow mushrooms in the cave,” Joe quipped.

  Chet trailed behind. The headphones were clamped to his ears, and once more he swung his metal detector back and forth over the sand.

  “If you have strength enough,” Frank told Biff, “we can climb up the ravine, cross the cliffs, and go back down to Johnny the fisherman’s place. Maybe he’ll give us chow, or else we can drive back to Rockaway for more supplies.”

  “Bright prospects!” Biff grumbled. “I thought I could do some fishing today. It’s great after a storm.” Then suddenly Biff recalled that his fishing gear had been stolen with the rucksacks. “Doggone it!” he exclaimed. “That burns me up! I’ll bet that Commander Wilson took our stuff and stashed it out of sight!”

  “I doubt it,” Frank said. He turned and called to Chet, who was now a hundred paces behind. “Come on, hurry up!”

  Chet waved and nodded, but still continued to swing his detector. Then he gave an excited bellow.

  “Sounds like the mating call of a walrus,” Biff commented.

  “He may have discovered another weapon,” Joe said as they hastened back to their stout pal.

  “Hey, fellows, there must be a whole arsenal underneath here,” Chet said. “You should have heard the terrific noise in my ears.”

  All four boys dropped to their hands and knees and dug like fox terriers in a bone yard. Biff was first to reach something solid. He tugged and yanked, finally coming up with a rucksack!

  “Look!” Biff cried out. “It’s mine!” He brushed the wet sand from the knapsack, opened it quickly, and pulled out his collapsible fishing gear.

  The other three quickly recovered their supplies, a little damp, but none the worse for their burial in sand.

  Chet unscrewed the lid of his canteen and took a long swallow of water. “I told you this metal detector would pay off,” he said.

  Biff grinned. “I could kiss you, Chet, for finding my tackle.”

  Chet stepped backward in mock horror. “Please, please, not here,” he said, and the others roared with laughter.

  As their own cave was not far from the spot, the boys hastened back and broke out the rations. A fire was quickly started and Chet presided over the skillet filled with crisp bacon. “Phooey on the commander,” Chet said smugly.

  “Which reminds me,” Frank put in, “I’m not finished with that old codger yet.”

  “What more could you learn from him?” Joe asked. “He’s as nutty as a fruitcake.”

  “Maybe he is, maybe he isn‘t,” Frank replied. “In either case, I’d like to study him a little closer and ask some more questions.”

  Joe looked thoughtful as he spooned a portion of scrambled eggs into his mess kit. “Do you think he might have seen Cadmus Quill or some other mysterious prowlers around here?”

  As Frank broke off a piece of crusty bread from a long loaf, he said that was exactly his idea.

  “Well, you fellows go about your sleuthing,” Biff said. “I’m going fishing.”

  “Where?” asked Chet.

  “From the top of the cliff,” Biff replied. “I can heave my line a mile out from that point. Maybe I’ll catch something big where the water’s deep.”

  “I’m with you,” Chet said. He turned to the Hardys and added, “If you fellows run into trouble with Wilson, just call us.”

  During the rest of the meal, the boys talked about the thief who had buried their supplies in the sand.

  “If he didn’t keep them for his own use, what was the point of stealing ‘em?” Biff mused.

  “To get us away from here,” Joe said promptly. “Somebody doesn’t want us around.”

  “Like Commander Wilson,” Biff said. “What do you think, Frank?”

  The young sleuth shrugged. “There might be one man or two—maybe a whole gang operating around here. But we’ll find out sooner or later.”

  “You’d better find out sooner,” Chet declared, “else we’ll be starving again.”

  “If you mean somebody’s going to steal our supplies a second time,” Joe said, “you’re mistaken.” He told of having seen a small crevice fifty yards away at the base of the ravine. “We’ll hide our stuff there until you two get back with the whale you’re going to catch.”

  When the fire had been put out and their camping place policed up, the four adventurers hid their rucksacks and parted.

  Frank glanced over his shoulder to see Chet and Biff trudging up the ravine, as he and Joe trotted toward Wilson’s cave. They saw the old sailor standing in front of his cave, sketching something in the sand with a slender stick. When he saw them approach, he quickly rubbed the sole of his boot over the sand and hailed the brothers. “Hello there! Have you come to visit me?”

  Frank and Joe exchanged glances, and walked up to the man. “Why, yes,” said Frank. “Do you remember us, Frank and Joe Hardy?”

  “Of course I do. Where did you go after I invited you to breakfast?”

  “Why, we came—” Frank began. “Didn’t see hide nor hair of you. Thought you went back to Bayhill, or Portside, or wherever you came from. Where are your two friends?”

  “They went fishing,” Joe replied.

  “Where?”

  “To the top of the cliffs.”

  “Dangerous. Mighty dangerous. I hope they come back all right,” Wilson said.

  He shook his head, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked in circles before his cave.

  “Commander Wilson,” Frank began slowly, “have you seen any people prowling around Honeycomb Caves?”

  Wilson stopped short and looked Frank squarely in the eyes. “I’m alone. A herm
it. That’s what I am. I haven’t seen anybody. Nobody comes near me. They think I’m queer.”

  Joe described both Todd and Quill. “Have you seen anyone resembling them?” he persisted.

  “No. But come to think of it, there was a fellow—”

  The Hardys looked alertly at the old sailor. Had he seen one of the missing men?

  “Yes, go on,” Frank encouraged. “What did he look like?”

  “The first one you mentioned.”

  “Todd?”

  “Yes. I once knew a fellow like that. He was second mate on my cruiser in the Philippines.”

  Joe turned aside and made a wry face as the man continued:

  “Come to think of it, his name was Todd. Yes, it was,” the commander went on. “He shipwrecked me deliberately and I had to climb a pineapple tree until the natives stopped beating their drums and went home.”

  Joe leaned close to Frank and said in a low voice, “He’s off again. What’ll we do now?”

  As Commander Wilson rambled on, Frank edged closer to the mouth of the cave and glanced inside. He gave an involuntary start as he saw something he had not noticed before. But before he could whisper to Joe, Wilson wheeled about. “A man’s cave is his castle,” he said tartly.

  Frank tried to manage a grin. “Well, I guess we’d better be going, Commander,” he said. “Those fellows must have caught a fish by now.”

  Without saying a word, the old salt went into his cave. The Hardys continued down the beach again. When they had gone a dozen yards, Frank seized Joe’s arm and pulled him behind a large rock.

  “What’s the matter, Frank?”

  “Joe, I saw a cap in Wilson’s cave—the same foreign style that was dropped by the fellow at the radar site!”

  “Do you think there’s some connection?”

  Frank suggested that they hide and watch the old fellow’s cave. “You notice he got mighty excited when I looked into his quarters.”

  “I’ll bet he’s got something in there he doesn’t want us to see,” he said, peering over the rock. Suddenly he hissed, “Watch it! Here he comes!”

  The two boys crouched low. Joe poked his head around the boulder for a quick look. “Frank, he’s going down the beach the other way—probably to look in our cave.”

  “Now’s our chance to explore his,” Frank said. “Is he out of sight yet?”

  “Yes.”

  Frank and Joe scrambled out of their hiding place and dashed into Wilson’s cave.

  “Boy, is it ever deep!” Joe exclaimed. “It goes way back!”

  “And look here,” Frank said, picking up the cap from the floor. “This could be more than a coincidence.”

  “Wow! He’s got an arsenal, too!” whispered Joe. He pointed to a shotgun lying on a rock ledge.

  “So that’s where the mysterious shooting came from,” Frank guessed. “And how about this?”

  He picked up a dog-eared notebook from beside the gun and leafed it.

  “It’s a code book! Let’s take it to the light so we can study it.”

  The boys had been well schooled in cryptography by their father. Eagerly the two moved nearer the mouth of the cave.

  All at once the interior darkened and Commander Wilson stood at the entrance! “Spies! You’re all spies!” he boomed. “Give me that book, you—you young pirates!”

  As Frank and Joe stood tongue-tied, Wilson lunged toward the stone ledge.

  “Look out!” Joe cried out. “He’s going for the shotgun!”

  CHAPTER XIII

  A Straight-Line Clue

  FRANK dropped the code book and leaped to intercept Commander Wilson before he could reach the shotgun. But the old man was as agile as an athlete! He dodged and twisted out of Frank’s way like a piece of spring steel and grabbed the weapon.

  “Frank! Run!” Joe shouted as he ducked toward the front of the cave.

  Realizing it was now impossible to cope with Wilson, Frank dashed after his brother. But as the two boys reached the cave mouth, there was a loud explosion. Frank stumbled and fell to the ground.

  “You killed him! You killed my brother!” Joe cried out. He bent down over the prostrate form. But instead of finding blood on the back of Frank’s red shirt, Joe saw a large, round white patch. At the same time Frank shook his head, got to his knees, then stood up.

  “Are you all right?” Joe asked. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the smoking shotgun in Wilson’s hand. The old man had a gleeful expression on his face.

  “I’m okay,” Frank said. “Let’s get out of here!” The boys retreated halfway to the water’s edge before stopping.

  “The blast knocked me down,” Frank said, reaching about gingerly to touch his back. “What was the gun loaded with?” He removed his shirt and the brothers examined it closely. “Joel This looks like flour! It is flour!”

  “So that’s what Wilson used for ammunition!” Joe said. “Now I know for sure he’s a candidate for the booby hatch.”

  With mixed feelings of embarrassment and chagrin, Frank donned his shirt and the Hardys looked back as Wilson emerged from the cave. Again he shook his fist.

  “That’s what you spies get for snooping around Commander Wilson’s cave!” he shouted. “You have some nerve trying to read the code book of the Queen’s Navy!”

  “We were only looking at that funny cap,” Frank called back. “Where did you get it?”

  “In Rockaway, of course—where I get all my supplies,” Wilson said. “That’s where I go when the Queen’s Navy forgets to send the supply ship.”

  Shaken by the weird incident, the brothers headed for their cave.

  “That cap will bear some investigating,” said Joe.

  “You’re right,” Frank agreed. “If they’re sold at the general store in Rockaway, maybe the Bayport prowler bought his there too.”

  “Look who’s coming,” said Joe. They glanced up to see Chet and Biff scrambling down the ravine toward them. Biff had a monster of a fish slung across his shoulder.

  “Hi, fellows!” Chet called out. “Look what we caught!”

  Joe grinned. “It’s almost as good as a whale!”

  Puffing and beaming, Chet and Biff hastened up to the Hardys. The sea bass which Biff carried weighed more than thirty pounds.

  “Will we chow down today!” Chet said gleefully, then added quickly, “And I discovered a mine, too.”

  “A gold mine, I suppose,” Joe said.

  “I don’t know what kind,” Chet said seriously, “but my detector picked up some funny noises.”

  “Chet’s right,” Biff said. “Something’s buried up there. Fellows, you ought to go hear for yourselves. I’ll show you the place.”

  “Okay. You win,” Frank said skeptically.

  “I’ll cook some of the fish while you’re gone,” Chet said. He added wistfully, “I wish we had some flour to sprinkle on it.”

  Frank gulped and Joe pounded him on the back.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Chet asked.

  “Oh, no!” Frank said hastily. “Give us the detector, Chet.”

  Joe took the device and in a few minutes the three boys were clambering up the ravine toward the top of the cliff.

  When they reached it, Joe donned the earphones and held the detector several inches off the ground. “Over there,” Biff directed. Joe went toward the spot. A moment later he winced as a clicking chattered like a machine gun in his ears.

  “No kidding, there is something underneath here,” he said. “Listen for yourself, Frank.”

  Frank complied, then moved the detector from right to left. “That’s strange,” he muttered. “This mine, or whatever it is Chet discovered, runs in a straight line.”

  “Maybe a water pipe,” Biff said. “Wouldn’t that be a joke!”

  “A water pipe from where to where?” Joe countered. “Why put a drain underground at a place like this?”

  “Whatever the thing is,” Frank said, “it lies east to west, apparently from near the coastline
to the highway.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Joe said. He moved to a stand of pine trees growing several hundred yards back from the precipice and selected the tallest. “Give me a boost, Frank.”

  After getting a lift from his brother, Joe shinned to the first branch, scrambled to the top of the tree, and looked intently westward.

  “What do you see over there?” Frank called up.

  “You’d be surprised!” said Joe.

  “Come on,” Biff said. “You’re tracing an imaginary line. What does it point to?”

  “The Palais Paris,” Joe replied. In a few moments he was back on the ground. “Frank, I have a strange feeling about that place. Let’s investigate it.”

  “Not this minute,” his brother replied. “I’d like to do some digging.”

  “But with what?” asked Joe.

  “I’ll get some tools,” Biff volunteered. “Johnny the fisherman will lend us his.” He hastened off and returned presently with a shovel and pickax over his shoulder.

  The boys took turns wielding the pick and shovel. Rocks and dirt flew up out of the hole they fashioned. But they reached three feet down without striking metal.

  Biff leaned on the shovel and ran his thumb along his brow like a windshield wiper. “We might dig all day and not find anything,” he said. “Frank, do you suppose it is a metallic substance which makes the detector click like that?”

  “I’m not sure,” Frank replied. “It might be an electrical conduit. Let’s check in Rockaway.”

  “Okay.” Joe chuckled. “As soon as we’ve eaten that feast Chet’s preparing for us.”

  The boys left the tools near the edge of the cliff where they could find them, then retreated down the ravine to the cave. Chet had made a spit, on which large chunks of the freshly caught sea bass were broiling over hot coals.

  “Smells great, Chet,” Joe said. “Let’s eat and be on our way.”

  “We’re going back?” Chet asked in dismay.

  “To Rockaway for the time being,” said Frank, and told what they had observed on the cliff top.

  “Then I did find a good clue, eh?” Chet asked proudly. “First the pistol and now this. What would you fellows do without me?”