The Hunt for Four Brothers

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Hello, Mr. Jons,” Joe said, stepping up to the two adults. “We were just at your house.”

  “Oh?” Jons said, smiling innocently.

  “We tracked down that shipment of yours from Russia,” Frank informed him.

  “The soap,” Craven cut in. “Yes, we’ve discussed it.

  “I hear that it got scattered to the four corners of Konawa,” Jons said, chuckling.

  “Mr. Jons has been gracious enough to accept a fifty-dollar check to reimburse him for the cost of the package,” Craven said, smiling at the Hardys but warning them with his eyes.

  “Well, it’s really the mailman’s fault, not yours,” Jons said, smiling.

  Frank and Joe looked at each other, puzzled. Jons put on his cap. “Well, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “We studied Kiev in world history. It looked like a beautiful city,” Joe said, probing for information.

  “I wouldn’t know—I’ve never been there,” Jons said. “A fella I served with knew the owners of the company that makes the soap. He had them send me a box of it.”

  “That’s funny,” Frank said innocently. “Joe was sure he saw two pet carriers in your cabin that had tags on them from the airport in Kiev.”

  “What were you doing in Mr. Jons’s cabin?” Craven asked calmly, though his face was turning red.

  “The pet carriers are mine,” Jons explained. “I flew up to New York with my own dog last week; maybe those are the tags you saw.”

  “Why did you take two dog carriers?” Frank pressed.

  “That’s enough, Frank,” Craven warned.

  “No, let’s clear this up,” Jons said. “I went to New York to see a friend who had Doberman puppies, but I decided not to buy one.”

  “I saw Kiev airport tags on them,” Joe insisted.

  “Well, let’s have a look,” Jons said. “I was taking them to the church thrift store, so they’re in the back of the truck.” Jons removed a plastic tarp, revealing the two pet carriers in the bed of his pickup.

  Joe grabbed the tags. “See, it’s for—” Joe halted as he saw the LGA on the tag.

  “LGA for La Guardia Airport, New York,” Craven said, glaring at Joe. “Do you have anything you’d like to say?”

  “Someone switched them,” Joe protested.

  “Mr. Craven, we heard the two huskies barking inside Mr. Jons’s cabin not fifteen minutes ago,” Frank said, jumping to his brother’s defense.

  “I can’t imagine what they’re talking about,” Jons said, shrugging.

  “You have to believe us, Mr. Craven,” Joe pleaded.

  “Mr. Jons, I hate to bother you,” Craven said, “but would you mind showing these boys there are no huskies hiding in your cabin?”

  Jons shifted his weight and ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re going to believe these teenagers over me?”

  “I’m not saying that,” Craven said. “We’re just very eager to find those dogs.”

  Jons suddenly smiled. “Would these be the dogs you’re talking about?”

  The Hardys turned around and both their mouths dropped open in stunned surprise. A tall, lean man with a drawn face and a sheriff’s uniform was walking toward them, escorting Rob Daniels in handcuffs. A deputy had two gray Siberian huskies muzzled and on leashes.

  “I found your burglar, Mr. Craven,” the sheriff said. “Rob Daniels here has made a full confession.”

  9 A Surprise Confession

  * * *

  “What did you say?” Frank asked, unable to believe his ears.

  “Confessed to what?” Joe added.

  “Breaking and entering and stealing property with the help of these two husky dogs,” the sheriff replied.

  Daniels stood silent and stone faced.

  “Thank you for tracking him down, Sheriff Lyle,” Craven said.

  Lyle arched an eyebrow and looked at Daniels. “I didn’t track him down. Mr. Daniels walked up to us near the old asylum with these two dogs. He gave himself up.”

  “These aren’t Mr. Daniels’s dogs,” Frank protested.

  “Yes, they are,” Daniels insisted. “They’re strays I found a few months ago. I’ve been keeping them up at the old asylum.”

  “Why did you do this, Mr. Daniels?” Craven asked.

  “I needed money,” Daniels said in a flat voice.

  “You are going to need money,” Lyle growled. “You have four hundred and seventy-five dollars in parking tickets and penalty fees.”

  “Reach into my front right pocket,” Daniels said.

  Sheriff Lyle pulled out a large roll of cash from Daniels’s pocket.

  “I can’t accept stolen money,” Lyle said.

  “Not stolen,” Daniels replied. “I’ve kept it hidden, for emergencies.”

  Lyle quickly counted it. “Five hundred dollars. Well, Mr. Daniels, I’m in a generous mood. Rather than tack on jail time, we’ll call this even,” Lyle said, handing Daniels twenty-five dollars in change.

  “I’m not sure the man you robbed will be so generous,” Craven said. “He’s coming over here from the front porch right now.”

  Frank saw Tringle and Flatts making their way down the gravel path toward Craven’s office.

  “But why were you stealing soap?” Joe asked.

  “I wasn’t,” Daniels replied. “I may have knocked a few things around in that lady’s bathroom looking for money.”

  “If you had five hundred dollars,” Frank asked, “why were you looking for money?”

  “Well, I . . . I . . .” Daniels faltered.

  Larry Tringle joined the group.

  “Mr. Tringle, Rob Daniels has confessed to breaking into your room,” Craven told him.

  “If you’d like to press charges, we can go in to town,” Lyle said.

  “No, that’s all right,” Tringle said. “I got my money and watch back.”

  Frank and Joe were bug-eyed.

  “Sheriff Lyle, I’d like to discuss the matter with you and Mr. Daniels in private,” Craven said.

  “Well, I’m glad that’s all settled,” Jons said, covering the pet carriers with the tarp.

  “I want to see you two in my office tomorrow morning directly after breakfast,” Craven ordered Joe and Frank. “Understand?” Craven led Daniels and Lyle into his office and closed the door.

  Tringle headed back to the inn, and Flatts walked down toward the lake.

  “Do you believe Rob Daniels’s confession?” Joe asked.

  “Not for a minute,” Frank replied. “I think someone paid him that five hundred dollars to take the blame.”

  Frank checked his watch. “It’s one thirty-five, so I’m five minutes late reporting to maintenance.”

  “I think I’ll find Tringle now and then come back to talk to Daniels,” Joe said.

  “Good luck!” Frank called over his shoulder.

  • • •

  Larry Tringle showed Joe out onto the balcony of his room, where Mrs. Tringle was seated at a small table.

  “Hello, young man,” Mrs. Tringle greeted Joe.

  “Hi. This won’t take a second,” Joe said. “Can I ask you just a few questions about the robbery? I’m just trying to figure out how Daniels got in here without breaking in,” Joe told him.

  “We can’t figure it out, either,” Mrs. Tringle said.

  “But you believe he’s the culprit?” Joe asked.

  “Certainly. Our neighbor said—” Mrs. Tringle began, then stopped herself. “We think Mr. Daniels needed money for food.”

  “And since he gave himself up, I just thought—” Tringle started to explain.

  Joe jumped in. “Sorry to interrupt, but did someone tell you he had given himself up?”

  “Well, didn’t he?” Tringle asked.

  “Yes, but that was before you arrived on the scene,” Joe pointed out.

  “Well . . . I don’t know why this needs to be a secret,” Tringle said. “Mr. Flatts said that he met up with Mr. Daniels, who explained he needed the money for food. Mr. F
latts asked me not to press charges.”

  “Are you and Mr. Flatts friends?” Joe asked.

  “Not friends, but neighbors,” Tringle said, pointing to the adjoining balcony.

  “That’s right, Mr. Flatts’s room is—” Joe stopped speaking as a sudden thought struck him. The two balconies were only six feet apart. “You could almost jump,” he said quietly to himself.

  “What’s that?” Tringle asked, holding a hand to his ear.

  “Do you folks lock the sliding door to the balcony?” Joe asked.

  “Why would we?” Mrs. Tringle replied.

  Joe paused, thinking. “Is Mr. Flatts in his room?”

  “No,” Tringle replied. “He said he was taking a row on the lake.”

  Joe shielded his eyes from the sun and peered across the small lake. He spotted only one rowboat, which appeared to have two men in it.

  “Thank you,” Joe said, and hurried out of the room.

  • • •

  When he couldn’t find Sandy, Frank followed the trail that led through a maple grove to the Joneses’ cottage.

  Sandy and Borda were on the porch swing, with their backs to the screen door. They were huddled over something on a low table, whispering to each other. Frank didn’t want to startle them, so he rapped on the door with his knuckle. Sandy reached for the object on the low table, and for a split second, Frank glimpsed what appeared to be a red gemstone the size of a walnut.

  “Frank, what are you doing here?” Sandy asked, shoving the stone into his pocket.

  “It’s one forty-five,” Frank replied.

  “Is it that late?” Sandy said, stepping outside. “Well, let’s get going.”

  Sandy paused, staring into Frank’s eyes. “Frank, did you . . . ?” Sandy started to ask, then said, “Borda bought herself a piece of that costume jewelry at the crafts fair in town.”

  “Beautiful,” Frank commented, smiling through the door at Borda, whose eyes were darting around, looking at the floor. “It looked real.”

  “Oh, no, it’s glass,” Borda said.

  “Could I see it again?” Frank asked.

  Sandy’s mouth tightened. “We’ve got a lot to do this afternoon.”

  “Sorry, Sandy, I needed to go to town,” Frank explained, following his boss to the maintenance building.

  “Why?” Sandy asked.

  “Well,” Frank began to explain, then decided to withhold what he and Joe had discovered that morning. “It doesn’t matter now that Mr. Daniels has confessed to the break-ins.”

  “Confessed?” Sandy said, pulling up short. Frank told Sandy about the scene with Sheriff Lyle outside Craven’s office and the appearance of the two huskies Daniels claimed were his.

  “I don’t believe it,” Sandy said, walking toward the dump truck.

  “We don’t either,” Frank agreed, following Sandy, “but why is he lying?”

  “No way Rob found two stray huskies,” Sandy insisted. “Besides, Clem and Beau wouldn’t stand for him to keep other dogs.”

  This time it was Frank who pulled up short. “Clem and Beau weren’t with him.”

  “What?” Sandy asked.

  “When Mr. Daniels turned himself in, Clem and Beau weren’t with him,” Frank explained.

  “That makes no sense,” Sandy said. “Rob doesn’t go anywhere without his dogs.”

  “Maybe he didn’t have a choice,” Frank said. “Sandy, before we dump the garbage, I’d like to make a stop at Gus Jons’s place.”

  • • •

  “Don’t forget this,” Katie called as she flung a life jacket off the dock and into Joe Hardy’s rowboat.

  “Thanks, Katie!” Joe called back.

  Joe put his back into rowing swiftly across the lake. A hundred yards away from Flatts’s boat, he veered off and rowed to the other side of the point, trying not to arouse the suspicion of the two men. The second man had dark hair. Joe couldn’t make a positive ID from that distance, but he knew if he rowed any closer, they would know he was spying. Rowing around the bend and out of sight of Katie and the other lifeguards, Joe glided into the reeds and ran aground.

  Joe climbed out of the boat and began working his way cautiously through the woods.

  “Please return to your boat!” Katie’s voice echoed across the lake through a powered megaphone. Joe’s shoulders sank. How could she have seen me? he wondered. Just then he heard footsteps moving through the woods in his direction.

  Joe dove behind the massive roots of a fallen tree.

  “Boat number five, please return to your boat.” Katie’s voice echoed again.

  Just as Joe realized that he had taken boat number six, Milo Flatts, followed by Mr. Alvaro, broke through the brush nearby. “Ignore her,” Flatts told Alvaro. “Just say we didn’t know any better.”

  Alvaro stopped. “Where’s the second brother?”

  Flatts looked around, forcing Joe to duck out of sight. Joe could hear only the two men now.

  “Here he is, the second brother,” he heard Flatts say. Joe listened closely but couldn’t hear anyone else approaching.

  “Yes, but without his three siblings, he’s only worth one point five,” Alvaro replied.

  “No, no,” Flatts protested.

  “You have the teenagers sniffing around and now the sheriff is involved,” Alvaro said.

  “The third brother turned up this morning,” Flatts said. “Soon, we’ll have rounded up all four.”

  Joe felt something run across his shoe and looked down just as a giant centipede crept up his pant leg. He swatted the centipede off.

  Alvaro stopped speaking—Joe froze but knew it was too late. They had heard him. Joe dropped to the ground and rolled into a five-foot-deep gully.

  He could hear someone walking near the fallen tree. Joe knew if the person came any closer to the edge of the gully, there would be no place he could hide.

  “Come on. We’ll just hike up the hill a little farther,” Joe heard Flatts say. The sound of the footsteps receded.

  Joe got to his feet, still eager to see who the second brother was. Moving back behind the fallen tree, Joe could no longer see the two men, but he headed uphill, through light undergrowth, trying to catch sight of them.

  Joe stopped suddenly, his head just an arm’s length from a sphere about two feet in diameter. It was the biggest hornets’ nest Joe had ever seen. Joe took a step back, just as a rock came flying through the air and struck the nest dead center, tearing it wide open and releasing hundreds of angry hornets!

  10 Head High in Hornets

  * * *

  Joe had no time to see who had thrown the rock. As he turned to run, he felt the first sting on the back of his neck. A sea of white-faced hornets swarmed around him, and he was stung another five or six times on the arms and face before he could escape.

  Joe shook off a dozen or more hornets and made a run for his rowboat.

  Joe didn’t noticed the hornet on his eyebrow until it stung him on the eyelid. Joe smacked it away and looked over his shoulder. The light through the trees outlined a trail of hornets, pursuing Joe through the woods.

  By the time he reached the water’s edge, Joe had been stung so many times, he was hardly aware of the numerous hornets still stinging him on his back and stomach. He dove into the lake and thrashed under the surface of the shallow water, shaking off the last of the insects. He held his breath for as long as he could, then peeked above the surface. One or two stragglers still flew about, but they soon returned to the forest.

  After crawling through the shallow water to his rowboat, Joe climbed in. Swelling was already beginning to close his left eye and obscure his vision. Joe could feel himself going into shock as his body tried to counteract the massive dose of venom that was in his system.

  Halfway across the lake, his throat began to close up, making it difficult to breathe.

  “Joe, are you all right?” he heard Katie’s voice on the megaphone. Joe shook his head without turning around to acknowledge her. If h
e stopped rowing, he believed he might not be able to make his body start again.

  Joe’s breathing grew shorter and shorter and he tumbled forward onto the bottom of the rowboat, unconscious.

  • • •

  Frank Hardy walked toward Gus Jons’s cabin, explaining his hunch to Sandy. “Earlier, Joe and I thought we heard the two huskies inside,” Frank explained quietly to Sandy. “When the huskies showed up at Konawa with Mr. Daniels, I was thrown. Then I realized Mr. Daniels’s dogs weren’t with him.”

  “And I can tell you, those dogs never leave his side,” Sandy interjected.

  “Mr. Daniels left the asylum with Clem and Beau to try to track down the two huskies,” Frank continued. “I think Jons or one of his accomplices snatched Clem and Beau and, well, held them hostage.”

  “How could you capture two dogs of that size?” Sandy asked.

  “That I don’t know,” Frank admitted. “But it sure would explain why Mr. Daniels would make that false confession. He was trying to save his dogs.”

  Frank knocked on the cabin door, waited, then knocked again. “This guy is never home.”

  Sandy tried the doorknob; it was unlocked. “Something might have happened to Mr. Jons. We’d better check on him,” Sandy said to Frank with a wink.

  Inside, they found no sign of Beau or Clem. Jons had an empty gun rack on the wall. On a small table beneath it, Frank found some strange-looking cartridges and examined them. “Look at this, Sandy—tranquilizer cartridges. That’s one way to capture two Rhodesian Ridgebacks.”

  Frank heard a faint yelp. “That came from behind the cabin.”

  Frank hurried outside and around to the back. He heard another yelp from somewhere up the mountainside.

  Sandy stepped a few feet beyond Frank. “Look, there’s his truck,” Sandy said, pointing behind the cabin.

  Frank moved to the brown pickup and looked in its bed. “The pet carriers are gone.”

  “Great,” Sandy said. “What does that mean?”

  “It means my hunch about the dognapping is probably right,” Frank told him. “When Joe and I told Jons we had heard dogs in his cabin, he must have moved Clem and Beau.”