Frank righted the plane, pulling back hard on the stick. The craft was in the clear!
“Whew!” He let out his breath slowly, blinking as his taut nerves relaxed. “That was a tight one!” He could hear sighs of relief from his companions.
Joe leaned forward in his seat and gripped Frank’s shoulder. “Pretty fancy flying, brother!” he said, and Chet and Caribou added their praise.
“It was a good workout,” Frank said modestly. “Now back to the search.”
He circled the aircraft over the lake again, staying higher this time. Grimly Joe pointed to the submerged logs on each side of the wrecked plane. They were roped together.
“Those logs were put there deliberately,” he said. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to booby-trap us!”
“The thieves know we hunt for them,” Caribou muttered. “We must be very careful!”
The plane cruised over the lake and wooded area again. There was no one in sight, nor was there any trace of a plane.
“Wonder where the gang found that wreck?” Joe mused.
“It could have been abandoned somewhere in these woods,” Frank suggested. “And they dragged it out onto the lake.”
“That would have been a tough job,” Chet remarked.
“Let’s get back to Fort Smith and report this to the Mounties,” Frank suggested. “Maybe they know something about it.”
The others agreed, and they headed back to town. As they approached the landing, Frank radioed ahead for clearance. When he set down he taxied straight to the RCMP jetty. They went at once to the office. Corporal Fergus was there and listened intently to their story.
“Could that abandoned plane have been found in the woods, Corporal?” asked Frank.
“One was wrecked up there in the bush some time ago,” Fergus replied. “Whoever dragged it out to the lake must know the area well.”
“Why?” Chet asked.
“Not too many people were familiar with the location of that wreck,” the corporal answered.
“Would Abner Dulac be familiar with that territory, Caribou?” Frank asked suddenly.
“Oui.” Caribou nodded. “That Dulac run his traplines through there many times.”
“I’ve been trying to figure out why Dulac trailed us from Edmonton,” Frank said. “One reason could be he’s mixed up with the rune stone theft.”
“Sounds possible,” Joe agreed. “And he either was on his way to warn his buddies about us, or wanted to stop our sleuthing cold—or both.”
“He is a snake. He would do it,” Caribou declared angrily.
Corporal Fergus said he would send several Mounted Police up to the area of the abandoned plane to look around. If they reported anything suspicious, he would let the Hardys know.
When the brothers and their friends started back along the jetty toward their craft, Joe suddenly stopped. “There’s a guy nosing around our plane.”
Quickly the three boys ran down the jetty. By now the fellow was leaning over, the upper half of his body inside the plane. Frank grasped him by the arm and pulled him up.
“Biff!” he shouted in surprise. “Boy, it’s good to see you. But what are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” the lanky boy replied, grinning. “Your father cabled Sam, telling us where to reach you.” He added that Tony and Radley were in the town of Hay River.
After Caribou joined them and introductions were made, Biff explained, “We tracked the gang to Hay River—west of the mouth of Slave River. But they’re plenty shrewd at eluding us. So Sam wants you all to come up and join forces with us. I came in on the early-morning plane.”
The Hardys and Chet then brought Biff up to date on their own experiences and detective work—both on the Viking rune stone mystery and the lodge thefts case.
“I hate to give up the search for Keating and his fuel drums,” Frank concluded. “And I’d like to find out if Abner Dulac is mixed up with the thieves.”
“Me, too!” Caribou put in hotly. “You boys go to Hay River. I will stay here and watch for Dulac.”
“All right, Caribou,” Frank agreed, smiling at the trapper. “You can have first crack at your friend Dulac!”
“Bon tonnerre!” Caribou exploded. “Friend, never!”
After the boys had attended to having the rented plane fueled and checked out, they had lunch, then bid good-by to the French-Canadian. Joe slid into the pilot’s seat, and with Frank, Chet, and Biff as passengers, taxied out onto the river. The take-off was smooth and rapid and soon the plane was heading out over the dense spruce forest on the northwestern route to the town of Hay River.
When they came in sight of the town, Joe landed the float plane and tied up at an airfield jetty. The four jumped out and Biff led them down the main street to a small frame hotel where Sam Radley and Tony were waiting.
“Hi! Swell to see you!” they were greeted excitedly. Sam Radley, a man of medium height, wiry build, and thinning sandy hair, pumped their hands.
The groups exchanged accounts of their recent activities on the mysteries.
“There’s no doubt,” said Sam, “that the gang we’re after has some thoroughly experienced woodsmen.”
“We feel they’re close by,” added Tony, “and so do the Mounties.”
“The thieves’ operations seem to center around lodges on the shore of Great Slave Lake,” Sam continued. “So far, they’ve never stolen from places inland.”
Frank said thoughtfully, “It could be coincidence of course—but the locale of these lodge thefts and the finding of the Viking rune stone is the same—Great Slave Lake.”
Joe threw his brother a keen glance. “In other words, you think it isn’t coincidence—that there’s a connection between the two mysteries.”
“Yes,” Frank replied with conviction. “For two reasons: our radio antenna was knocked down while Dad was receiving your report on the lodge thefts, Sam. Kelly could have been eavesdropping outside. And,” he went on, “Kelly is also a suspect in the missing rune stone case.”
Joe broke in. “That means those new hundred-dollar bills stolen from Caribou and the ones used to pay for the fuel drums in Fort Smith are from the same batch of money.”
Frank looked excited. “If our theory’s right, we’re after the same bunch of thieves—not two separate gangs!”
“In that case,” said Sam Radley, “it’s a good thing we did get together on the mysteries.”
The six friends continued their speculations until bedtime. The next morning after breakfast Frank and Joe decided to scout the Great Slave Lake area around Hay River. The Hardys flew off, turning east toward the mouth of Slave River.
As they flew along the southern shore, cruising at a low altitude, Joe said excitedly, “I see a group of men below. They’re digging!”
“And it obviously isn’t a well, from the rectangular shape of the hole,” Frank commented, after circling over the figures below. “My guess is they’re looking for something.”
“If it’s any kind of a legitimate enterprise, I imagine the Mounties at Hay River will know about it,” Joe suggested. “Let’s go back and check!”
When they returned and told their friends about the excavation, Sam Radley looked puzzled and at once called the Hay River RCMP station. When he returned, he said, “The officers there know nothing about any digging in this vicinity.”
“Think the fellows you saw might be the thieves?” Tony asked Frank and Joe.
“We couldn’t tell, of course,” Frank replied. “How about our finding out, though?”
“I suggest we go up there tonight and investigate,” Sam advised. “If the men are members of the gang, we don’t want to scare them off.”
The others concurred, and as soon as darkness had fallen that evening, the group set out. They went down to the dock and climbed into a boat with an outboard that Sam had rented. They used the motor until they drew near the spot where Frank and Joe had seen the diggers, then turned it off and rowed to shore. They beached
the craft and crept along the sandy bank.
Suddenly Joe whispered, “Someone has a fire burning.”
The group headed silently toward the glowing light. Like trained and skillful woodsmen, they approached without a sound. Ahead, six rough-looking, unshaven men were seated around a small, dying campfire. They evidently had just finished eating supper, and were leaning back, relaxed. The boys and Sam could not make out the men’s features in the flickering, uncertain light.
Suddenly one of the campers spoke. “How’s the translation of the stone coming?” he asked.
The man seated next to him shrugged and answered, “I’m making progress on the symbols, but slowly.”
Frank turned to Sam Radley and whispered excitedly, “Symbols! These men must be the rune stone crooks!”
Radley nodded in agreement. “Okay, fellows,” he murmured. “We may be able to take them off guard and capture the whole crew!”
In whispered agreement they decided that upon a signal from Radley, the pursuers would swoop down on their quarry. Chet nodded and rubbed his damp palms together, then set himself for the spring. But before Radley could say “charge,” Chet’s right toe snagged on a vine and down he went with an “oomph” that resounded through the stillness of the dark forest.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Joe moaned.
“Get ’em!” Radley shouted.
The six strangers, however, had been amply warned, and were on their way before the boys could move in. Snatching up their gear, they ran off into the darkness with muttered curses. Only one man straggled, and Joe pounced on him.
The rest clustered around Joe as he pulled the lone captive to his feet. The Hardys gasped and exclaimed in surprise, “Kelly!”
The thin, pale captive, not wearing a head bandage, showed no change of expression. He stared at the brothers with cold, blank eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Joe snapped. “Where’s the Viking rune stone?”
Kelly remained sullenly silent.
“I guess he’s not talking, boys,” said Radley. “Let’s search his duffle.”
Joe picked up the canvas bag and pulled out the contents. Among the camping equipment he found an odd-shaped package wrapped in brown paper. “Look!” he cried, untying it and holding up a slab of stone about eighteen inches long and six inches wide. It was covered with angular, slanting lines.
“The rune stone!” Joe cried. “We’ve found it!”
Sam Radley and Tony, meanwhile, had securely bound the prisoner. They joined the others in scrutinizing the heavy stone and its strange markings.
“I guess one mystery is almost solved,” Chet said, beaming.
“We’d better not count on that until we get Kelly back to Hay River and the stone’s authenticity is verified,” Sam Radley said.
The Hardys agreed. “Also,” Frank said, “we have to track down the rest of the gang and find out whether or not they are the lodge thieves.”
The captors took Kelly back to the boat with them, then motored swiftly to Hay River and went directly to the Mountie station with the fugitive from Bayport.
“Fine work, boys,” the inspector on duty said, after hearing their story. “I’ll hold this man and contact Police Chief Collig for verification.”
The police took the still-silent prisoner into custody and said that they would let the Hardys and Radley know if he revealed anything under questioning.
When Frank and Joe showed them the stone, the Mounties were amazed and impressed by the find. “This looks like the real thing,” the officer said, examining the carved tablet.
“I told you!” Chet exulted to his companions.
Sam Radley shook his head doubtfully. “I’m not convinced,” he said.
“Me either,” Frank declared. “Getting the stone back seemed too easy!”
“Well,” Joe put in, “I’m not such a pessimist. I’m going to call Dad and tell him our news.”
“Help yourself.” The officer gestured to his telephone. Joe placed the call to his father in Edmonton.
“Good work!” said Mr. Hardy, after hearing the full story. “But don’t jump to conclusions!”
“All right, Dad,” said Joe. “What’s our next move?”
“You and Frank bring the stone to Edmonton,” the detective replied. “Tell the others to stay in Hay River and keep out of sight. Ask Sam to contact me every day.”
“Will do, Dad,” Joe said. “See you soon. So long.”
The Mountie agreed to let the boys take the stone along and had them sign a receipt for it.
After Joe had relayed his father’s instructions to his companions, the whole group went to bed, tired from the excitement of the evening.
The next day the Hardys made the flight to Edmonton, arriving in the late afternoon. It was a smooth trip, and when they landed at the bustling airport, the boys hurried to the terminal.
Frank carried the stone, carefully wrapped and tied.
As they rushed outside to a taxi, Frank stopped suddenly and pointed to a stack of newspapers on a stand close by. The Hardys stared in astonishment at a headline on the first page:RUNE STONE FOUND
Hardy and Sons Return to States
CHAPTER XII
Offbeat Assignment
“COME on. Let’s find out what this is all about!” Frank urged.
He and Joe taxied directly to the hotel where their father was staying. They walked swiftly through the lobby and took the elevator to the detective’s suite.
When Mr. Hardy opened the door, both boys started to speak at once. “The rune stone case is solved?” Frank asked, and Joe said, “We saw the newspaper ...”
They broke off in surprise when the detective smiled broadly. “Come in,” he said. “I’ll explain.”
He shut the door. Frank and Joe quickly sat down. “The Edmonton newspaper,” Mr. Hardy continued, “has agreed to cooperate with us on this rune stone business. That headline about our returning home was to throw the thieves still at large off course.” He chuckled. “In the same way it did you two.”
“I get it,” Frank said. “In case the stone is a fake.”
Joe gave a low whistle. “Neat maneuver.”
Frank then unwrapped the stone for his father’s inspection. “When can we find out if this is genuine, Dad?”
“Perhaps tomorrow,” the detective answered. “Mr. Baker-Jones is much better, but the doctor in charge said that he should gain strength for a day before we talk to him.”
Mr. Hardy examined the stone and its markings closely.
“It certainly fits the description we got,” Joe observed hopefully.
“Yes, it does,” Mr. Hardy agreed. “But we’ll find out positively when Baker-Jones sees it.”
That evening the three had dinner in the seclusion of the detective’s hotel room. The next morning, as soon as the hospital would allow them to see the London Museum representative, the Hardys rushed over with the rune stone.
When they entered his room, Peter Baker-Jones was sitting up in bed. He looked pale and weak. The tall Englishman, who wore a neatly clipped mustache, acknowledged Mr. Hardy’s introductions formally. But upon hearing why they had come, the patient’s eyes brightened.
“The rune stonel” His voice shook with excitement. “Please! Let me see it quickly!”
Mr. Hardy unwrapped the stone, and handed it to the expert on runic writings. The man put on his eyeglasses and carefully studied the tablet as the visitors waited tensely. A look of disappointment spread over the Englishman’s face.
“This stone is not authentic,” he said wearily, but with certainty. “I can tell by the sharp edges of the lines that it was not carved in the ninth century. It is a rather clever imitation.”
“So—this Viking stone was faked—to decoy us off the case if the opportunity should arise,” Joe said angrily. “Boy! Are they clever! We’ll have to work fast before the crooks decipher the real one and find the treasure.”
The Londoner was greatly agitated. “How can
they be stopped?” he asked.
The Hardys gave him a rapid account of their sleuthing, and the older detective said, “We’ll let the gang think their ruse worked.”
Frank now told the men of his belief that the lodge thieves operating around Great Slave Lake and the rune stone robbers were the same gang.
Mr. Hardy smiled. “I agree. All we have to do is prove it—and capture the other gang members.”
“How can we convince them we’ve given up the case,” Joe asked, “if we continue to search for them?”
“The thieves must be made to believe we’ve returned to the States, and Mr. Baker-Jones to England,” the detective replied.
Mr. Hardy then revealed a plan he had worked out. He suggested that the museum representative be taken secretly to a convalescent home outside Edmonton. “You can regain your strength there, Mr. Baker-Jones, and when we find the real rune stone, we’ll need your help for verification.”
Mr. Baker-Jones acceded to this suggestion. Fenton Hardy talked to the hospital authorities, and it was agreed that the Englishman would be moved quietly the next morning. When the Hardys left Baker-Jones, they told him that they would contact him at the convalescent home.
“Now let’s get down to police headquarters,” Mr. Hardy said. “We’re going to need one of their men.”
When they arrived, the detective and his sons hurried to Inspector Knight’s office. After an exchange of greetings and news, Mr. Hardy asked him, “Is there a tall, thin man in your department we can borrow, Inspector?”
The man’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but he answered, “Yes, there is. And you’re welcome to use his services.”
Frank grinned. “Dad, you’re planning another impersonation—only not for yourself—right?”
“Exactly!” The detective went on to explain that he, Joe, and Frank would board a plane for the States, taking with them someone to pose as Peter Baker-Jones.
The inspector nodded understandingly. “And that’s the role for my man. I’ll get him now.”
Knight left his office and returned with a tall policeman. “This is Officer Brent.”
“Let’s see how you look with a mustache,” Mr. Hardy said, after explaining the ruse. The detective handed Brent a false mustache.
The Viking Symbol Mystery Page 7
