"Getting run off the road by a bulldozer and pounced on by a stranger in the woods sure does help a guy work up an appetite," Joe muttered as they trudged on under the hot sun. It was past noon, and the heat was becoming uncomfortable even that high in the mountains.
"Don't worry," Frank said. "We'll put some fuel in that body the minute we finish with Galen."
"If he turns out to be the guy who attacked me," Joe added, "maybe I'll just have him for lunch."
The lock on the equipment yard gate showed no signs of tampering. "That means if something was taken from here, it was done by someone with a key," Frank pointed out, unlocking the gate. "Okay, fan out. The inventory says there
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should be eight bulldozers here. If there's one missing, it shouldn't be hard to spot."
"There's one bulldozer missing," CaUie called out a few minutes later. "But nothing else is gone, as far as we can see," she added as she and Joe rejoined Frank near the gate. "What are you looking for?" she asked when she saw Frank peering at the ground.
"Bootprints," he said, frowning. "But the mud's too stirred up to tell anything."
"What more evidence do we need?" Joe demanded. "Vance Galen lives near here. He could easily have come in here and snitched a 'dozer, that logging truck that unloaded on us last night, and even a few sticks of dynamite. I think we have a suspect, Frank."
"Patience, brother," Frank said. "Let's go talk to the guy first before we decide he's guilty."
"Not home," Joe announced when no one answered Frank's knock on Galen's door. "Must be out bulldozing cars again."
"Come on," said Callie dejectedly. "Let's go home."
"Hold on," Frank insisted, knocking again. "Galen!" he called. The silence that answered his call was eerie.
Frank reached out and tried the doorknob. "You're just going to walk in?" Callie demanded.
"Nope. It's locked," Frank said, disappointed.
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"I guess it would be hard to break in and say we just wandered by."
''On the other hand, Stan's hfe is at stake here," Joe pointed out, eyeing his brother over CaUie's head. ''And it's not like we're going to take anything."
Cailie studied first one Hardy then the other. She knew better than to argue when she saw that determined look in their eyes. "Okay, but hurry." She glanced at the edges of the woods in case Galen appeared and caught them in the act. "And remember, this is quick and unofficial. Whatever we see stays right where it was."
It took only moments for Frank to work the door lock with the slender pick he kept in his wallet. He heard the final tumbler click into place. Then, motioning for Cailie and Joe to follow, he went inside.
"What a dump," Joe said the instant they were inside the small, dimly lit cabin. It definitely could use a cleaning, Frank saw. Dirty clothes, books, and newspapers covered every flat surface. The tiny kitchen had dishes stacked to the rim of the sink. The windows were tightly shut, preventing any fresh mountain air coming into the rooms.
"Look for anything that might connect Galen to the bombing at the sawmill," Frank told the others, moving through the living room toward a tiny bedroom and bathroom off a short hall.
"Especially Buster's key ring," Joe added,
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opening several cabinets in the living room. "That would clinch it for sure."
Frank entered Galen's bedroom and saw several sets of camouflage pants and shirts tossed around. If anyone in Crosscut could be associated with camouflage, Galen was certainly the one.
At the bottom of Galen's closet, though, Frank found something even more interesting: a small door that concealed a hidden compartment beneath the floor. Inside were two boxes of blasting caps, several coils of waterproof fuse, some well-thumbed military handbooks, and a demolition instruction manual.
"Joe! Callie!" Frank called. "Come here!"
"You come here!" Joe called back from the living room. "This guy has enough weapons to supply the National Guard!"
Frank hurried out of the bedroom to find Joe standing over a hole in the floor near the living room fireplace. Several floorboards lay nearby. "Let's see, there's one pump shotgun and a high-powered rifle," Joe said, peering down into the hole.
"And some boxes of ammo and several pistols," Frank added, kneeling beside Joe. "It looks like our friend Galen is getting ready to start a war."
"All he needs is the dynamite," Callie said.
"Wait till you see what's in the bedroom." Frank described to the other two what he had found.
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"Whew," Joe said. **This guy really sounds crazy."
''I guess he might be capable of committing murder—and framing Uncle Stan," Callie agreed sadly.
''Let's put everything back the way we found it," Frank said hastily. ''We don't want Galen to know he's been found out. I want to report this to the sheriff so he can bring this guy in for questioning."
"You really think he'd notice something missing in this mess?" Joe asked.
"Hey, look at your room at home!" Frank replied, only half kidding. "And still you know every time I borrow a pair of socks from your dresser."
Frank, Joe, and Callie worked quickly to restore Galen's cabin to its original state. As they worked, Frank fought down a feeling of nervousness about what they'd been up to. One thing was sure—agoing through Galen's personal belongings was not something he wanted to be caught doing.
"Okay, out!" he ordered Callie and Joe, hustling them toward the door as soon as the last dirty shirt was back in place. Frank backed out after them, careful to lock the door.
"Wait!" Joe said just as Frank felt the lock click. "I think I left the car keys on the mantel."
"You're kidding." Frank was incredulous, but Joe only shrugged sheepishly. "They're not in my pocket," he said.
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Shaking his head, Frank moved to the window and shined his flashlight through the glass. "I don't see them," he said. ''Maybe you left them in the—"
He was interrupted by the click of a rifle bolt and Callie's gasp of fright.
"Don't move," said a high-pitched voice behind and to the right of Frank. Slowly Frank raised his hands and turned to face Vance Galen.
The Green, in suspenders and a red flannel shirt, stared triumphantly into Frank's eyes. His hunting rifle was leveled at Callie's heart, and his finger was trembling on the trigger.
Chapter
*Take it easy, Vance/' Joe murmured. "We're not trying to hurt you."
"This is private property," Galen snarled. "You're trespassing!"
"Vance, if you'll just listen, I can explain," Callie said calmly, taking a step toward him.
"Careful, Callie," Frank warned.
"Shut up. Hardy!" Galen shouted, his finger tightening around the trigger.
"It's okay," Callie said soothingly. "We just want to talk." She walked closer to him. "Put down the rifle."
Callie kept walking until she was right up against the barrel of his rifle. The boys held their breath. Finally Galen lowered it.
"Let's talk inside," he muttered.
As they stepped back to let Galen unlock the
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door, Joe noted that Galen seemed more scared than anything. He just hoped Galen stayed that way.
"All right," Galen said after they had filed into the Hving room and sat down. "I want to know why you were spying on me."
"We weren't spying," Frank protested. "We needed to talk to you, but you didn't appear to be here. We were just looking inside for you."
"Don't lie to me!" Still clutching his rifle, Galen glared at Frank. "You boys have something to do with Buster Owens's murder, and I want to know what it is."
"Us!" Joe laughed. "All we're trying to do is prove that Stan Shaw didn't commit it! Do you think you could help us out with that, Vance?"
"What can I do?" Galen growled, beginning to pace. "Everyone around here thinks I'm either loony or a murderer."
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"We just need some simple information," Gallic said. "Like, what happened with Stan and Buster after we left the general store?"
Galen scowled. "Buster left right after you did," he told her.
"Did Stan say anything about a meeting with Buster?" Joe asked.
"Yeah," Galen replied. "I followed Stan to his car. He said he was going to go over the application for the Forest Service contract with Buster. I told him he was making a big mistake."
"It was a mistake to talk to a logger about conserving woodland?" Frank asked, incredulous.
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*'You can't trust any mill owner!" Galen spat out. "All they care about is how much money they can make by destroying forests!"
"What happened after you talked to Stan?" Callie asked.
"He wouldn't call off the meeting," Galen said, "so I decided to follow him."
"Then you were there right before the explosion?" Joe asked. "Did you see Stan there?"
"No. I parked away from the mill, on a back road, and walked. I was afraid there might be a guard at the mill."
"Did you park near Buster's truck?" Joe asked.
"No. 1 saw it, though."
"And then what, Vance?" Callie prodded. "Did you see anyone else around there?"
Joe watched carefully as Galen backed away from them. "I might've seen something," he admitted. "But why should I tell you?"
"Because we're trying to find out who really blew up the sawmill and killed Buster!" Callie cried. Joe flinched. Callie had to cool it. "If you know something important, you should tell us or the sheriff," she added.
"Tell Ferris?'' Galen exploded. "He'd never believe me! He probably thinks / helped blow up the mill!"
"Has he questioned you?" Frank asked.
"Nope," Galen replied, "and he's not going to. I'm not giving him any excuse to lock me up."
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"What did you see near the sawmill?" Joe asked again. "A person? Somebody's car?"
Joe saw Galen jerk slightly at the word car. Frank saw it, too.
"Whose car was it, Vance? Who else are you afraid of?" Frank asked.
Galen sat down uneasily on the edge of a chair and faced the Hardys. He laid the rifle across his knees.
"All right," he said finally. "I thought I saw Rafe CoUins's Cadillac parked off the road. It's a red sixty-seven, a beat-up old wreck that Collins is real proud of. It's hard to miss. Buster's truck was parked right by it," he said finally.
"Collins? Bo Johnson's foreman? You actually saw him there?" Joe jumped in.
Galen shook his head. "I didn't see anybody. Just the truck and the car. Then, right afterward came the explosion. I was so close, I was stunned by it. I wandered away and eventually found my truck."
"What happened after that?" Frank asked.
"I went home. Ever since that day, I've been scared."
"Of Collins?" Callie asked him.
"Absolutely. Once, after I organized some roadblocks on Johnson Lumber's logging roads, he told me he'd shoot me if I ever set foot on Johnson property again. I believe he'd do it, too. Bo Johnson hired him straight out of prison on a work-release parole to keep the mill employees in line."
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*'What do you mean?" Frank asked.
'*You know," Galen said, 'if Johnson's employees get any notions about saving the local wildlife or joining a union, Collins leans on them."
Neither of the Hardys believed all of what Galen said, but their impression of Collins coincided pretty well with his description.
''Did you have any more plans for sabotaging the lumber companies?" Frank asked. "Anything that might involve dynamite, for example?"
Galen sat up straight, gripping his rifle more tightly. "Did you come in here earlier?"
"Relax, Vance," Joe said calmly. "We're just trying to help Stan—and you, if you'll let us."
Galen slowly relaxed his grip on the rifle. "All right," he said. "I did get a bunch of books on dynamite and some fuses and other stuff back when the state legislature decided to let the redwoods be cut. I was going to get some dynamite and blow up the access roads."
"But the legislature voted to save the trees," Callie pointed out.
"It's a good thing," Galen said quietly. "I don't know if I would have had the guts to blow anything up. Collins has me too scared to fight Johnson Lumber, and they're the worst mill in the state. So all I do is talk."
"As long as it's good talk, it's worthwhile," Frank suggested. "Will you tell Ferris about seeing CoUins's car when we're ready to bring our evidence to him?"
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Galen hesitated. The Hardys could see the inner battle he was fighting. After a short pause Galen's conscience apparently won out over his fear. ''Okay. I'll talk to Ferris."
"Great. Now, there's just one more thing we need from you, Vance," Joe said.
''What's that?" he asked wearily.
"A ride down the mountain."
It was late afternoon by the time the Hardys and Gallic reached the general store. Vance waved goodbye and said he was going to visit Stan. Joe spotted their jeep parked in front—a little beat up, but not too bad, considering. "I wonder if it works." He hurried over and checked. Sure enough, it started right up. A sign taped to the steering wheel read, "Ten bucks for towing off the mountain. Leave the money at the general store."
"Now that's the kind of small-town hospitality I like," Joe said. "Let's go inside and pay the guy. And after a quick bite, how about checking out the site of the explosion? There's probably no one around today, and something might turn up."
"Sounds good to me," Frank said, moving toward the general store.
"Wow. It looks so sad," Gallic said as they drove into the parking lot. Only two warehouses were untouched by the fire.
"Let's start near that big saw, the one the
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arson investigators were talking about," Frank said as they hopped out of the jeep. 'That is, if we can figure out where it was in this mess."
Silently they crossed the parking lot to the rubble that had been the main building. Joe instantly found what had to be the mill's largest saw. The jagged-toothed steel plate, at least ten feet in diameter, had been bent nearly in half.
''No fire would have done that," Frank said, resting a hand on the ruined saw. 'That would take a lot of explosives—probably dynamite."
"There are plenty of footprints here," Joe said, pointing to the ash-covered ground around the saw. "Fire fighters, paramedics, the arson investigators—too many to identify."
"I'm glad I wasn't inside fighting the fire," Callie commented as they poked around. "It must have been horribly hot. Hey," she added, squatting down to peer beneath the saw's cradle. "I think I found something."
Callie retrieved something from under the cradle and stood up. When she opened her hand there was a battered steel cigarette lighter.
"Hmm. Not very impressive," Callie said. "One of the mill workers must have dropped it."
Joe took the lighter and turned it over. A bit of brass was tacked to the other side. "Wings over a parachute. Isn't that some kind of military insignia?"
"Right, for the army paratroopers," said Frank. He took the lighter and scraped the ashes off the bottom. "Uh-huh," he added. "There's
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an inscription here. It says, 'Saigon, seventy-two.' Whoever dropped this is probably a Vietnam veteran. It shouldn't be too hard to find out if there are any ex-paratroopers who work at the mill. If the owner of the lighter can't explain how his lighter got here, we just might have our man."
"I don't know, Frank," Callie said with a frown. ''It's pretty flimsy."
"It's all we have to go on so far," said Frank, irritation creeping into his voice. "Let's look around and see if anything else turns up."
Joe turned back to sifting through the ashes until he heard Frank say, "Okay, I give up. If we haven't found anything by now, there's nothing else to find."
"Right." Frank nodded. "Which means either the investigators found them—"
"Or the murderer took them," Joe finished grimly. "Which explains why Horizon's equipment keeps following us around."
"Let's go back to town. I could eat again," Callie suggested, dusting ash off her hands. "Maybe Peg Robbins at the general store can tell us who owns that lighter. She knows everyone in town, and Uncle Stan says she loves to gab."
By the time the Hardys and Callie returned to the general store, it was nearly dusk and the lunch counter was empty. Only breakfast and lunch were served. Portly Peg Robbins, whom they had watched serving the loggers the day
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before, stood behind the counter wiping down the coffee machine. Her husband sat in his usual spot behind the cash register, this time working a crossword puzzle. The teenagers headed straight for the single rest room in the back, taking turns cleaning up as best they could.
*'Hi, Peg," Callie said as they finally climbed onto the stools in front of the counter. ''Do you remember me? Callie Shaw, Stan's niece?"
''Of course 1 do!" the woman cried, turning around and giving Callie a big, motherly smile. "1 never forget a soul who passes through this old place." Her face turned somber as she stepped closer, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. "My dear, I'm so sorry about your poor uncle," she said gravely. "Can I get you anything—^we're officially closed but I make lots of exceptions."
Callie waited until Peg served them to strike up a conversation again. Finally, she held up the paratrooper lighter.
"We found this yesterday when we were hiking," CaUie said casually. "It looks like it might be important to someone, so we thought we'd bring it here to see if you might recognize it. We'd like to get it back to its owner if we can."
"Of course," she said. "Mike Stavisky's your man. He went to Vietnam with the paratroopers in—let's see—May of 1971. He was discharged in 1972. I remember his mother's excitement when he got off that bus like it was yesterday."
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