Mystery of Smugglers Cove

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Instinctively Joe grabbed a mangrove branch over his head and swung himself into the air. The lizard pounded underneath, its snapping jaws barely missing the boy’s feet.

  Its momentum caused it to hurtle into the gang of poachers. Screaming in terror, the men ran for safety, dropping their rifles as they fled into the underbrush. Apparently the alligator was equally scared. It careened into the pool and dove under with the rest of the lizards.

  Since the poachers were scattered quite a distance away, Joe saw his chance to ruin their hunt. He dropped to the ground and raced to the spot where the rifles lay. One by one he picked them up and tossed them into the pool.

  Then he darted back into the mangroves, hoping to reach safety before the poachers realized what he had done.

  But it was already too late! He heard Lami yell, “That’s Joe Hardy! Grab him!”

  Fatso, who was closer than Joe had thought, jumped from behind a bush and collared the young detective. Breaking loose, Joe knocked him down with a karate chop. Then he got past another gang member by kicking his feet out from under him. But a third man seized Joe in a bear hug and wrestled him to the ground.

  They rolled over and over. Two other poachers rushed up and pulled Joe to his feet, holding him with his arms behind his back.

  He was the gang’s prisoner!

  “The great Joe Hardy!” Lami snickered. “Where’s your brother?”

  “He’ll be here any minute,” Joe replied.

  Fatso grinned evilly. “Good. We’ll grab him, too!”

  “I doubt it,” Joe said. “Frank’s bringing the rangers with him!”

  The poachers gasped. “The rangers!” Lami snarled. “We gotta get outa here, quick!”

  “Not until we take care of this snooper!” Fatso declared. “We’ve been saying all along we’d like to toss the Hardys to the alligators. Now let’s do it!”

  Lami nodded. “Good idea. He can use one of our rifles to fight off the little pets!”

  The poachers guffawed at this joke, then they hustled Joe down to the shore of the pool. No movement broke its calm surface, and there was no sign of the giant lizards.

  Joe shuddered. He could imagine dozens of the ferocious animals lying at the bottom, then swarming to the kill as soon as he hit the water! He had never been in a tighter spot!

  “Okay,” Lami said. “Let’s give him the old heave-ho!”

  Four of the men grabbed Joe’s arms and legs and lifted him off the ground. They swung him back and forth a few times to gain momentum and were just about to let him fly through the air into the water, when three alligators surfaced right in front of them! The lizards slithered up the bank and rushed toward the gang!

  In a spasm of fear, the four dropped Joe on the ground and the whole gang ran off with the alligators in hot pursuit!

  One ‘gator clamped its jaws on Lami’s ankle, and only his thick leather boot saved him from serious injury. He kicked frantically until the lizard let go, then rushed into the mangroves.

  A second ‘gator attacked Fatso and caught his coat between its fangs. The coat ripped off, and the lizard swallowed it. Fatso dashed after Lami, while the third ’gator dispersed the rest of the gang by snapping its jaws and lashing its tail.

  The lizards had ignored Joe in their initial pursuit of the poachers. But as he picked himself up, he saw the three alligators staring at him. A chill ran down his spine and his knees almost gave way as he realized he was trapped between the ferocious beasts and the pool!

  17

  Trapped!

  Glaring savagely, the three alligators advanced toward Joe. There was no chance to escape!

  Then, a rustling in the undergrowth caused the lizards to turn. A terrified rabbit rushed past, chased by a bobcat. When it saw the alligators, the rabbit turned and fled along the side of the pool.

  Slithering forward, the alligators intercepted the bobcat, which doubled back along the route it had come. Forgetting all about Joe, the lizards chased the bobcat into the woods.

  Joe ran into the mangrove forest. Having no choice, he had to take the same direction as the gang. He hoped that the men were far enough away, allowing him to find a safe hiding place. However, two of the poachers noticed him and began to shout.

  “Head him off!” Lami yelled back. “Do him in this time!”

  Joe raced on, realizing some of the outlaws were behind him, and the rest ahead. He could hear them closing in on him. Gasping for breath, he looked around desperately for a spot to hide.

  A mound of branches, twigs, leaves, and grass caught his eye. “An alligator’s nest!” he thought. Quickly he made sure the baby alligators were gone, then climbed into the nest and pulled some of the vegetation over his head. He had to huddle up with his chin on his knees, hardly daring to breathe!

  The gang came together moments later right next to him. “Where is he?” Tom exploded.

  “He musta got through somehow,” Fatso said. “One of the guys goofed, and he sneaked past.”

  The men blamed each other for Joe’s escape, and argued loudly until Lami motioned for them to be quiet. “Look, he ain’t here anymore,” he said. “We might as well go back to camp.”

  “Frank Hardy and the rangers might be there,” Fatso pointed out.

  Lami shook his head. “I think the kid was bluffing. Anyhow, if the rangers found our camp, they’d be headed for the alligator pool. We’ll take a side trail so we don’t run into them. But we’ll have to return to our boat, unless one of you has a better idea of how to get out of this wilderness!”

  No one had, and Lami cautioned his men to be very quiet and on the lookout for the Hardys or the rangers. As they turned to leave, Tom slipped and fell right next to the alligator nest. Joe held his breath. Any closer, and he’ll be in here with me! the boy thought nervously.

  Lami picked himself up. “That ‘gator tore my boot when it grabbed my ankle,” he complained. “Makes it hard for me to walk, especially on this ooze. Let’s get out of here, fast!”

  Joe sighed with relief when the poachers had left. He pushed aside a patch of branches and peeked out. The coast was clear, so he stood up and quickly circled around the men, trying to head them off. He wanted to get to the camp before they did, to warn Frank.

  However, he ran into dense vegetation that slowed him up. In some places he had to break through tangles of vines and creepers. As a result, the gang reached their destination before him. They had stopped to discuss their next move when he arrived.

  Joe surveyed the area from his hiding place among the mangroves. There was no sign of Frank or the rangers.

  Lami had ordered two of his men to scout around the camp. They now came back and reported seeing no one. “But there’s a blue outboard right behind our boat,” one of them said.

  “Must be the Hardys‘,” Fatso guessed. “Search it and see if there’s anything that tells us what they’re up to.”

  The men inspected the boat thoroughly. “Nothing here!” one called out.

  “They covered their tracks well,” Fatso declared. “But they have to come back to the boat. Let’s set a trap for ‘em!”

  “We don’t have time,” Lami objected. “The rangers might be on our trail, and we have to get back to Everglades Junction to get more ammunition and guns.”

  “You want to resume the hunt?” one of the men asked.

  “In a few days, when the heat’s off,” Lami said.

  “Why don’t we sink the Hardys’ outboard?” Fatso asked.

  “Good idea,” Tom agreed. He was already in their own boat trying to start the engine. It came to life, coughed a few times, and died. While two of the men headed for the blue outboard, Lami made several more attempts to turn the engine over, with the same negative result.

  “What’s wrong with this thing?” he shouted furiously.

  Fatso tore a branch from an overhanging mangrove, stripped the leaves off, and pushed it into the tank. Then he examined the discoloration where it had extended into the gasoline.r />
  “Somebody put water in here!” he exploded. “I bet it was that Hardy kid! He did it before he sneaked up on us at the alligator pool!”

  “It’s always the Hardys,” Lami said through clenched teeth. “We’ll fix ‘em!”

  The poachers got out of the boat and Lami called the two men who had begun to work on the blue outboard. Excitedly, they debated what to do.

  Tom had an idea. “Let’s siphon off what’s in the outboard and use the gas for our boat. Might be enough to get us to Everglades Junction.”

  Fatso grinned. “Good idea. I’m glad you guys didn’t sink it yet!” Then he held up a hand, motioning for silence. “Sh! Somebody’s coming!”

  A hush fell over the gang. They heard footsteps approach in the distance.

  “Maybe it’s one of the Hardys!” Lami hissed. “Fan out—we’ll trap him!”

  Quickly the men moved into the woods and took up positions behind the trees. The footsteps became louder, and a figure appeared behind the foliage. Tom and one of his cohorts leaped on him in a flash.

  A second later, Lami cried out in surprise. “It’s Butch! Let go of him. He works with Morphy!”

  The newcomer straightened his collar where the two had gripped him. “I’m glad you noticed before slugging me,” he grumbled. “I just been out looking for mangrove fruit. Got hungry waiting for you guys. ”

  “How’d you get here?”

  “Came with Morphy in the blue outboard. He went to meet the chief while I waited to fill you in. ”

  “What’s up?” Lami asked.

  “We’re all to go to the stone house. The chief wants to talk to us.”

  Lami looked surprised. “That’s a switch. He always left messages and wouldn’t even see me and Nitron.”

  “He will now,” Butch said. “Nitron’s been busted by a couple of spies.”

  “What!”

  “The Hardys infiltrated his gang,” Butch said, and reported what had happened.

  “Those pests!” Tom exploded, then told Butch about their encounter with Joe at the alligator pool.

  “I wish we could leave right now,” he concluded. “We’re not safe with these kids on the loose.”

  “We’d better go see the chief,” Butch advised. “I know the way. Follow me and be very quiet. He’ll tell us what to do.”

  He led the gang into the woods. Joe wondered where his brother was. “He wouldn’t have left without planting a clue for me,” the boy thought. “But where?”

  Then he had an idea. He hurried to the skiff the Hardys had hidden before sneaking up to spy on the poachers. He saw the note Frank had anchored on the bow and nodded with a grin. Next he called park ranger headquarters.

  “Any word on the patrol?” he asked the sergeant.

  “They were held up on the way,” was the reply. “I’m not sure just when they’ll be there.”

  “Do they know a place called the stone house?”

  “I doubt it. Must be off the routes we keep under surveillance.”

  “There’ll be a trail of broken branches going north from the poachers’ camp,” Joe said. “They should have no trouble finding the camp. It’s just before the big bend.”

  “I’ll alert the patrol at once,” the sergeant promised, then hung up.

  Joe pocketed Frank’s note and went to the north side of the camp. Finding the spot where Frank had begun to shadow Morphy, he plunged into the woods. Would he find the gang’s headquarters at the end of the trail?

  18

  Deadly Moat

  Far ahead of Joe, Frank had carefully broken branches on obvious trees to show where he had gone. Each time he had chosen the lowest branch and snapped it at a point about one foot away from the tree trunk.

  The Hardys often used signals to communicate with each other when they were on dangerous cases. Frank knew his brother would notice the trail and make his way in the right direction.

  Keeping Morphy in sight, he found the terrain changing. The swamp of water, mud, and tropical vegetation gave way to a dry area where the footing was better. Now the earth was solid and there were as many pine trees as mangroves.

  Finally, an isolated building became visible. It was three stories high, faced with Florida limestone, weather-beaten, and covered with moss. Most of the windows were shattered, and broken shutters dangled at crazy angles. The paint on the front door was peeling, and the grounds were thick with weeds.

  Looks like nobody’s lived here since the year one, Frank thought. He speculated that the house might have been built in the days when the United States Government considered draining large areas of the Everglades in order to open swamp area for housing. Eventually, the Everglades National Park was created instead.

  “The builder jumped the gun,” Frank told himself. “He erected the place, then found it was too far out in the boondocks to live in. He sure made it easy for the chief, though. What a meeting place for crooks!”

  The weeds were trampled in a path to the house. Someone had been there recently.

  Frank ducked into the tall weeds and followed Morphy cautiously in a panther crawl. Soon he came to a moat ten feet deep surrounding the house.

  He looked over the edge and gasped. The shallow water in the moat was teeming with alligators!

  He turned to see what Morphy would do. The former secretary rummaged in the underbrush and found a two-by-six. He threw it across the moat to permit a safe crossing above the alligators.

  On the other side, a drop gate kept the giant lizards penned in the moat. If it were raised, it would allow them to swarm onto the grounds around the house.

  Morphy placed one foot on the board to test its stability. Satisfied that it would hold him, he began to walk over it. Halfway across, he stumbled. Teetering to one side, he hovered precariously over the moat. Below him, the alligators bared their teeth and waited for him to fall!

  At the last moment, however, Morphy regained his footing. He extended his arms on either side to keep his balance and walked the rest of the way across. Then he mounted the front steps and pushed in the door, which opened on creaking, rusty hinges.

  He went inside and closed the door behind him. The alligators settled down again, since their prey had escaped them, but kept their eyes fastened on the board to see who would come next.

  Frank considered going after Morphy, but realized he could be seen from the broken window in the front door. No sound came from inside the house. Suddenly the boy heard voices behind him. The poachers appeared from the woods and took the path up to the moat.

  “I’d like to shoot these monsters,” Fatso said, looking down at the alligators.

  “Forget it,” Tom advised him. “They’re here to protect the place when the chief’s away. He don’t want anyone snooping around. ”

  Lami led the way across the trench and the men followed one by one. Fatso was at the end. The thick board dipped and creaked under his weight, but he made it to the other side. The poachers went into the house, and Frank heard them being greeted by Mark Morphy. However, he was too far away to make out the ensuing conversation.

  Suddenly a cry of an Everglades hawk pierced the stillness around the house. It was repeated four times at intervals of about ten seconds.

  Frank grinned. He knew it was Joe—the brothers frequently located one another by simulating the sounds of animals or birds when they were out in the woods.

  Frank crawled back into the trees and responded with the same cry, repeating it twice.

  Minutes later Joe slipped through the mangroves and joined him. Quickly Frank explained the situation.

  “Are the rangers coming?” he asked at the end.

  “They’re headed for the camp,” Joe told him. “They don’t know where the stone house is, but I told them to follow our trail. I hope they’ll find it. ” He looked at the front of the house. “How do we get over there?” he wondered.

  Frank described the moat filled with alligators. “We’ll have to get across somehow,” he concluded. “We ca
n’t use the board because we’d be spotted. Let’s go around back and see if there’s another way. ”

  Sticking to the line of trees to avoid being seen, the Hardys circled the house. Everywhere the open moat gaped before their feet, and there was no other board to be found.

  “We’ll have to do some broken-field running through the ‘gators, ” Joe quipped.

  “We’d get tackled before we reached the goal line,” Frank said. “Hey Joe, I have a brainstorm. Come around back again.”

  In the rear of the house, Frank pointed to a tall pine tree standing in the yard about halfway between the moat and the house. The stump of a branch extended upward at an angle and touched the roof.

  “We could throw a rope over that branch and swing across,” Frank suggested.

  “Sure. Do you have one?”

  “We can make one out of the vines,” Frank replied.

  Joe grinned. “Terrific idea.”

  Speedily the boys tore up thick, supple vines and tied them together. Joe tested the rope by looping it over the branch of a nearby tree and hanging on it.

  “It’s strong enough,” he confirmed. Then he tied one end into an open knot and passed the length of the rope through the opening.

  “Perfect,” he pronounced. “I could lasso steers with it. ”

  “Try to lasso the pine tree,” Frank suggested.

  Since there was no sign of life in the rear of the house, Joe walked boldly up to the moat. The alligators stirred at his approach and opened their jaws expectantly, but he ignored them.

  Coiling the rope in one hand, he cast the lasso at the sheared-off branch of the pine tree. It fell over the stump and held fast!

  “I’m glad you’ve got a good aim.” Frank chuckled. “Otherwise we would’ve had to make another line. The ‘gators would have eaten this one if it had dropped in the moat!”

  Joe grinned and carried the end of the rope to another tall tree on their side of the moat. “We’ll tie it up there at about the same level and work our way across hand over hand.”