The boys asked for a loan of ten dollars, then left. Munching sandwiches and drinking soda on their way in the taxi, they soon reached the Bayport Hospital.
Sam Radley was lying in bed reading. He looked up over the top of the paper.
“Why, hello, Frank and Joe. Where’d you come from?” the detective asked in astonishment.
“It’s a long story,” Frank replied. He briefly outlined their adventures, ending with his suspicion that the man at Southport was not Mr. Hardy.
“You could be right,” Sam conceded. “Here’s a telegram from Mr. Bryant.” The message read:
STOP WORRYING AROUT YOUR BOSS.
“That practically proves the man in Southport wasn’t Dad,” Frank said.
“Not necessarily,” Sam replied. “It’s just possible your father allowed himself to be captured on purpose to get closer to the gang and its operations.”
“But why did he warn us to lay off?” Joe asked.
“For two reasons: so you wouldn’t get hurt, and also so you wouldn’t interfere with his sleuthing.”
“That might be, but I still don’t believe the man we saw in Southport was Dad.”
“I don’t agree with you, Frank,” his brother declared. “I’m sure even an actor couldn’t imitate Dad’s voice so perfectly.”
A gong sounded, and a nurse appeared. “Visitors must leave now,” she said, and to be sure they did, she waited until the boys bid Sam good night and hurried down the corridor.
When they reached their home, Joe suddenly grinned. “Mother and Aunt Gertrude will certainly be surprised to see us. They think that we’re still up in the mountains.”
“Who’s there?” a suspicious voice called from behind the door.
“It’s us, Aunt Gertrude,” Frank answered.
The door swung open wide. “Joe! Frank!” she cried. “I’m glad you’re home!”
“Who’s there?” Mrs. Hardy asked, coming to the hallway. “My boys!” she exclaimed, hugging them.
The reason for their sudden appearance was soon told. The women’s eyes widened in amazement, and they asked them not to return to the dangerous area.
“But we don’t know what happened to Ted Whitestone!” Joe said. “He may be a prisoner.”
“I understand,” Mrs. Hardy replied. “How about telephoning his father?”
“We’ll do that, anyway,” Frank said. “But if we’re going to solve the Ramapan mystery, we must work before the hunter’s moon is gone.”
When he talked to Chief Whitestone, the man said a search had already been started for all three boys. He was amazed to hear what had happened, and was glad that the Hardys had escaped. The chief said grimly he would notify the police about Smirkis and the other men and that efforts to find his son would be redoubled.
“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” Frank promised.
“That’s fine, but I’m afraid Ted is miles away by this time,” his father said woefully.
Joe called the airport and learned that a plane which left Bayport early in the morning stopped at Lantern Junction. He quickly made reservations.
Meanwhile, Frank had begun to worry about the safety of his mother and Aunt Gertrude. He was afraid that when the gang found out the boys had escaped they might come to the Hardy home and seek revenge.
“I’m going to ask Chief Collig to post plainclothesmen at the house day and night,” he said, and dialed the police headquarters.
Collig was not there, but he left the message with the sergeant who promised cooperation.
“A man will be here in a few minutes,” Frank reported to his family.
He and Joe set an alarm clock and tumbled into bed. The next morning they found it hard to awaken when the buzzer sounded, but they got up and dressed quickly. After kissing their aunt and mother good-by, the boys left the house. They stopped for a moment to talk with the detective on guard, then started for the airport.
Arriving just in time, the Hardys took their seats in the small plane that serviced the mountainous region of the Ramapan country. An hour later they landed near Lantern Junction and were driven to town. After a hearty breakfast at the Grand Hotel they set out once more for the Indian village.
“We’d better keep our eyes open for anybody lying in wait for us,” Frank advised. “I’ll lead off and look in front and to the right. You check what’s on our left and in back of us.”
But they saw no one and reached the Ramapan village without incident. When Chief Whitestone opened the door he grasped their hands eagerly.
“You’re back! But there’s no word of Ted! You have no idea where he might be?”
“I’m afraid, Chief Whitestone,” Frank said, “that he’s a prisoner of the people who are trying to get your land away from you.”
The Indian stared unbelievingly. “You mean they’re holding him as a hostage?”
“Probably.”
“I had no idea what danger you’d get into when I asked you to find the deed,” the chief said. “We’ve looked in vain for Ted so far. Chet and some of the villagers as well as the police are out now hunting for him. Have you anything to suggest?”
The boys said they were so sure that Smirkis was holding Ted prisoner, they would base their efforts on that assumption.
“Let’s phone Mike right away,” said Frank.
He dashed to the telephone. Seconds later he realized that the wire was dead.
“More of the gang’s work,” Frank said in disgust. “They cut the line!”
Joe suggested that he and Frank hurry to town and tell their story to the police. Without waiting for Chet, they returned to Lantern Junction and went to headquarters.
“We think Ted was taken away by Smirkis,” Joe said. “Can you tell us anything about his haunts so we can look for him too?”
Mike ran his fingers through his hair before replying. Suddenly he snapped his fingers.
“The cabin!” he exclaimed. “That’s the place. It just came to me. Smirkis once had a hunting cabin in the woods. He sold it, but I’ll bet that’s where he’s hiding.”
The Hardys were on their feet in an instant. “Come on!” said Frank. “Let’s have a look right away!”
The officer got his car and they drove a couple of miles out of town. Mike parked and they started off through a heavily overgrown area.
After a twenty-minute trek Mike suddenly held up his hand and motioned them to be quiet.
“It’s just through those trees,” he said, pointing.
Treading carefully the three moved silently toward the cabin. There was no sign of life.
Joe ducked down and moved to a spot underneath a window. The others followed. Raising their heads, they peered inside.
In the dusky room they could see nothing at first, then suddenly each received a shock.
Ted Whitestone was trussed up and propped against the wall!
CHAPTER XVI
A Moonlight Search
SMIRKIS was standing in front of Ted, a whip held menacingly in one hand.
“You’d better tell me!” he snarled. “If you don’t, you’ll get more of this whip!”
“You can’t get me to talk by torture!” Ted answered defiantly.
The onlookers could see several ugly welts on the boy’s arms.
“Where’s that buried treasure?” Smirkis demanded, using the whip on the boy’s hands. “You know all right, but you and your father are trying to keep it for yourselves!”
Mike signaled the Hardys. “Okay,” he whispered. “Time to move! Circle the cabin!”
Frank and Joe took strategic positions so Smirkis could not escape. Then, with a tremendous crash, Mike assailed the door and burst into the room!
The police officer dived for Smirkis. Though taken off guard, the wily swindler was not to be caught so easily. He slashed at his opponent with the whip, then leaped through a window.
But he was trapped. Frank and Joe converged on him from either side.
“Okay. I give up, but I can explain
everything,” the man declared as they led him into the cabin.
Meanwhile, Mike was releasing Ted from his bonds. The Hardys turned their prisoner over to the police officer and rushed up to Ted.
“It’s sure good to see you fellows,” the Indian boy said, chafing his wrists where the ropes had been fastened.
“Are you all right?” Frank asked.
“I guess you just got here in time,” Ted replied soberly. Then they all turned their attention to Smirkis.
“You’d better come clean,” Mike told him. “Who’s paying you and what do they want?”
Smirkis hung his head. “A stranger hired me.”
“What was his name?”
“He didn’t tell me. He just said, ‘Call me Al. I’ll pay you well.’ ”
“For what?”
“To spy on the Ramapans. He said they had a fabulous buried treasure.”
“A spy, eh?” Frank broke in. “Find out anything?”
“No,” Smirkis muttered.
The Hardys wondered if he were speaking the truth.
“Where is this Al now?” Joe asked.
The prisoner shrugged.
“Where did he stay when he was in town?” Mike prodded him.
Smirkis looked at his captors sheepishly. “I let him stay in this cabin. I knew the owner wouldn’t come here. Al told me he couldn’t be seen in town.”
“Wanted, eh?” the officer remarked.
“What did Al look like?” Frank asked.
“He’s a dark, heavy-set man. About thirty-five, I’d say. He has a bad scar on the back of his right hand. Looks like a W.”
“Breck!” Joe exclaimed. “Boy, does that explain a lot!”
“Good work!” the police officer said admiringly to the Hardys. “This Al or Breck—whatever his name is—we’ll set a watch on this cabin, and if he shows up, we’ll bring him in.”
Mike took the prisoner back to town, and the boys set out for the Ramapan village.
“Did that guy talk to you all the time?” Frank asked Ted.
“No. He slept a lot, and once he went off for several hours.”
“To cut the telephone line at your house,” Joe deduced.
“At first he wasn’t bad to me and gave me food regularly. But this morning he started whipping me ’cause I wouldn’t talk.”
Chief Whitestone was relieved to see his son, and Chet bubbled over with joy at seeing all three safe.
“This mystery gets more complicated,” the chief remarked. “Since you’ve been gone, I’ve received a letter from that man you asked me about —Philip York.”
“Philip York?” the Hardys chorused.
“He claims to be the grandson, by a former marriage, of the Amos York who once owned this land. You recall we bought it from his estate.”
“What did he want?” Frank asked.
“He says his father didn’t get his share of the money when the property was sold.”
“Has he any real claim?” Chet put in.
“If he has, we’re in trouble,” Chief Whitestone replied, “because all heirs have to be accounted for when any land is sold.”
“Didn’t the lawyers know about him?” Joe wanted to know.
“Philip York claims his father knew nothing about the deal. If that’s true, then the sale of the property was illegal and the transaction has to be made all over again.”
“Whew!” Joe whistled. “And you’d have to pay anything extra they might ask?”
“Yes,” the chief said, frowning. “York claims he has half brothers and sisters to be paid in addition. They could insist we give them a small fortune to sign off. And we just haven’t got the money.”
There was silence for a few moments, then Chief Whitestone continued. “The second thing I’m worried about is a little closer to home.”
“What is it?” Frank asked anxiously.
“Someone has been digging around the spot where we were looking for the buried treasure!”
“When did you discover it?” Joe questioned.
“I found bootmarks and freshly turned earth this morning, which means someone must have been there last night.”
The boys gasped. “I wonder if the digger found anything!” Ted exclaimed.
Chief Whitestone tapped his pipe on the table, then replied, “It’s hard to tell, Ted. Whoever it was dug quite deep, though.”
“Father, we must find out whether he was successful!”
“But how?” Chief Whitestone asked.
Almost immediately Frank came up with a plan. “We’ll fool him and use a decoy.”
“What kind?” Ted asked.
“The best decoy in the world,” he told them. “The whole Ramapan tribe! They can put on their hunter’s moon ceremonial dance this evening instead of waiting.”
“I see,” said Joe. “If the digger didn’t find the treasure, he’ll be back.”
“Exactly. While everyone is watching the dance, he’ll count on being alone. But you and I, Joe, will keep watch by the teepee.”
“Great idea, Frank,” Chief Whitestone responded, slapping the youth on the back. “I’ll get the preparations for the ceremonial dance started right away.”
“Say,” Chet remarked eagerly, “that’s really a corker of a plan after all, Frank!”
The Hardys became restless as they waited, but finally darkness fell and the brilliant hunter’s moon rose like a flaming ball. Under its bright, glowing light the weird ceremony started.
First came the beat of the drums, beginning slowly, but growing more insistent. Then the dancers, dressed in war paint and feathers, started their elaborate rhythmical movements. They chanted, leaped, and twisted, as they circled the soaring flames of the great bonfire.
The dance soon got into full swing, with Indian faces reflecting the blaze of the fire and the drums pounding wildly. Although the boys found the strange ritual fascinating, Frank finally whispered to his brother:
“We’d better go. We have work to do.”
Walking stealthily they went straight to the place of the crisscross shadow. No one was around. They slipped inside the teepee and waited.
Presently Joe peeked out of the opening. For a moment all he could see was the frozen ground and the dark forest trees, still in the silver moonlight. Then he gave a sudden start.
“Someone’s coming!” he reported excitedly. “Let’s grab him!”
As the man came nearer, the boys rushed outside. At that moment something whizzed over their heads. A second later a large knife struck the side of the teepee.
Frank seized Joe by the shoulders and jerked him to the ground.
“That guy is trying to kill us!”
Terrified, the boys waited, their faces pressed into the cold earth. Then they heard the sound of running footsteps.
Joe stood up. “I guess the knife thrower’s gone. Whew! That was a close shave! Well, at least we know the gang hasn’t found the treasure yet!”
They walked back to the ceremonial dance, but found that the rite had been completed and the members of the tribe were returning home. The chief was talking soberly with a group of elderly men. Joe caught his eye and he came over in a few minutes.
Briefly, the boys recounted the experience with the knife thrower.
“I’ll keep guards posted here day and night,” the chief said gravely.
He beckoned to a couple of sturdy young men. After a few short commands from their leader, they stationed themselves near the teepee.
“I can use a good night’s sleep,” said Chet, coming up to them. He yawned.
The Hardys grinned. “All worn out from dancing” Joe teased. “You should have been dodging daggers as we were.”
“Wh-wh-what!” Hearing the story, Chet said, “Wow! We’d better cut out this night work.”
“We will,” Frank agreed. “I’m going to phone Sam Radley to find out if he’s heard anything from Dad and then hit the hay.”
He picked up the phone, which had been repaired earlier.
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“Mr. Sam Radley, please,” he said to the hospital operator. “What! He’s disappeared! With a broken leg!”
Frank hung up and turned around. “Sam vanished from the hospital very mysteriously this morning. Left a check on the bureau for his bill. No one saw him leave.”
The boys looked at one another in amazement. Then Joe said, “Try his hotel. Maybe he’s there.”
But Sam was not at the hotel and the clerk had not heard from him.
“Maybe he’s gone after the saboteurs,” Chet suggested.
“More likely the gang has taken him captive,” Joe said worriedly.
The three sat lost in thought for several minutes, then Frank said, “I know somebody who might throw some light on his whereabouts.”
“Who?”
“Jack Wayne. Maybe Jack took Sam on a secret plane flight!”
“You’re right. Let’s phone him.”
Jack Wayne was a close friend of the Hardys. He owned a plane, and often piloted the boys, their father, or Sam on errands when speed and secrecy were needed to crack a case.
In a short time Frank was talking to Jack.
“W-e-l-l,” Jack began, as if reluctant to reply. “I have seen Sam. Flew him on a secret mission to Chicago this afternoon.”
“Did he give any details?” Frank wanted to know.
“He didn’t volunteer much information, and he swore me to secrecy. All I can tell you is this: continue your investigations at the Ramapan village, and don’t worry about a thing!”
Frank repeated the conversation to his brother and Chet.
“Continue our work, eh?” Joe said.
“But where?” Chet asked. “We’ve dug at the site of the crisscross shadow for the buried treasure, and all we have to show for it is a big pile of earth!”
“We’ve sure gone deep enough,” Joe declared. “You know what I think? That we haven’t been digging at the right shadow!”
“You’ve hit the nail on the head.” Frank thumped the arm of his chair. “There’s only one thing to do. Find the real crisscross shadow. We must do it tonight. If we wait until tomorrow, it may be cloudy. With the moon blotted out, we’ll really be stuck.”
The Crisscross Shadow Page 9
