Read The Secret of Skull Mountain Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
The Secret of Skull Mountain (5 page)
The shaft broke and Chet plopped into the water
He returned to the path and continued downward, keeping an ear open for his follower. But he heard nothing.
After a while the trail wound steeply down between tall trees and the light grew dimmer. Not a breath of air was moving. Frank rounded a bend and stopped short with a gasp!
Swinging lightly in mid-air was a human skull!
A moment later the startled boy saw the heavy black thread by which the grinning object was hanging from a branch.
“Whew!” Frank gave a little laugh. “You scared me, Smiley!”
Then he slipped into the woods to search for the person who had hung up the grisly surprise.
“He hasn't been gone long,” Frank thought. “The skull is still moving.” He found no one.
Frank returned to the path, took down the skull, and placed it next to a tree.
“Whoever did this trick is a slippery operator,” he thought grimly, and wondered if it were the wild-looking mountain man.
An hour later, when Frank mounted the steps of the Hardy front porch, his father opened the door. “Dad!” Frank exclaimed. “Gosh, I'm glad to see you! When did you get back? Is your latest case solved?”
Fenton Hardy laughed and slapped his son on the back affectionately. “One question at a time,” he said. “Where's Joe?”
As Frank started to explain, Mr. Hardy led the boy into his study and closed the door.
“Now,” he said, “suppose you start at the beginning.”
Frank did so, and Fenton Hardy listened attentively, laughing heartily when his son came to Chet's misadventure in the rowboat.
“That's the whole story, Dad,” Frank concluded. He added gloomily, “So far, we haven't made much progress toward clearing up the case.”
The famous detective smiled. “Solving mysteries is pretty much a problem of elimination, son. The more suspects and clues you can eliminate, the closer you are to the real criminals.”
“That's just the trouble,” said Frank. “We have too many suspects and clues.” He looked thoughtful. “There's one thing I feel sure of, though. This is not just a matter of some poor squatters trying to hold onto their land. Keeping the reservoir empty is too big a trick for Potato Annie or Hawkins to pull off alone.”
“I think you're right, Frank.” Mr. Hardy leaned forward significantly. “The main thing is to find the motive for the crime. When you know that, you'll be well on your way to catching the criminal.”
“Thanks, Dad,” said Frank. “I'll remember that. What about your case? Can you tell me about it?”
Mr. Hardy explained that he was working on an assignment for the Ace Laboratories in Pom-ford, Illinois.
A month before, Dr. Carl Foster, a scientist-engineer in charge of a project at the laboratories, had been granted a week's leave of absence. The scientist had not been seen since. The chief of the laboratories was frantic.
“I questioned all his employees, of course,” Mr. Hardy went on. “I also went to the hotel where Dr. Foster had been living. I found these scraps in his wastebasket. It was made of wicker and these had got stuck in the woven bottom.” He took two torn pieces of paper from his wallet and handed them to Frank.
“They're parts of a telegram,” Frank observed. He studied them carefully. On one were the typed letters: LEN. On the other piece was the word BAY.
“Could BAY be part of Bayport?” the boy asked.
“It could,” his father admitted. “It might also mean Bay Ridge, Bayview, Hudson Bay, and a thousand and one other cities, towns, villages, and waterways in North America.”
There was a knock on the study door. It was Mrs. Hardy. “Why, Frank! You're home!” she exclaimed.
The youth explained that he had returned to obtain some clothes for Chet. “And I guess I'd better hurry out to the Morton farm,” he went on. “Chet will be in a stew until he is wearing his own things!”
Mrs. Hardy smiled. “Say hello to the Mortons for me,” she said. “And, Frank,” she called after the retreating boy, “please stop at a plumber's shop and ask if he can come out here today and repair a leaking faucet!”
“Tell him it's an emergency!” Aunt Gertrude poked her head into the hall. “We can't afford to waste a drop of water in this town!”
Frank drove to a shop whose sign read “J. P. Kleng, Plumber.” A tiny bell tinkled as he opened the door, and a surly-looking man with red hair came from the rear of the store.
He studied Frank unpleasantly as the boy told him of the leaking faucet. “What do you expect me to do about it?” he asked.
Frank stared at him in surprise. “Fix it!”
Kleng turned his back abruptly and started for the rear of the store.
Frank was annoyed. “Isn't it a plumber's job to help Bayport conserve water until the reservoir is ready?” he demanded.
At this, the man turned and shot Frank an odd look. “Why don't you try another plumbing shop? he suggested. “I work alone. Don't have much time to go out on calls.”
“What does he do, then?” thought Frank. He had a feeling there was something behind the fellow's strange behavior. But he would have to find a plumber, and he wanted to return to Skull Mountain as quickly as possible.
“Could you recommend another plumber?” he asked the man.
“Sure.” Kleng went to a desk littered with account books and papers, and took an office letterhead from one of the drawers. Hastily he scribbled the name of a nearby shop and thrust the paper toward Frank.
“Thanks,” said Frank, folding the paper and placing it in his pocket.
Outside, the boy paused. “Something about Kleng rings false,” he thought. Slowly he took out the folded paper the plumber had given him.
The fragments of two words seemed to leap out at him:
LEN
BAY
Frank's eyes widened. He unfolded the sheet. The top of the letterhead read: J. P. Kleng, Plumber. Centered below it was the word Bayport.
The boy rapidly refolded the paper to its original creases. The same letters again stood out.
Frank could not conceal his excitement. He was thinking of the two pieces of the telegram Fenton Hardy had found in Dr. Foster's hotel room? Could the names
Kleng
and
Bayport
have been in that telegram? It was a clue worth tracing!
Kleng
and
Bayport
have been in that telegram? It was a clue worth tracing!
As Frank was walking to his car, he noticed a tall, thin man stride past him. It was the fellow Frank and Joe had seen talking to Sailor Hawkins! Frank ducked into a nearby doorway.
The man went into Kleng's plumbing shop!
CHAPTER VI
Two Masked Men
WHEN the man had gone inside, Frank walked past the window of the shop. He was just in time to see Kleng and the stranger disappear into the rear of the store.
The youth debated whether to watch the shop and trail the tall stranger when he came out, or report the new developments to his father. He decided in favor of the latter. It seemed likely that Kleng was in some way involved with the disappearance of the scientist, and Fenton Hardy would want to know this as soon as possible. Frank jumped into the convertible and headed for home.
Mr. Hardy was excited when he heard his son's story. “If Kleng and the thin man are mixed up in Dr. Foster's disappearance,” he pointed out, “they'll meet again.” The investigator said he would like to know when, but the operatives who usually worked for him were on other assignments.
“I have an idea,” said Frank. “Maybe I can help you.” He made a telephone call, but the line was busy. It was an hour later that he reached his friend Callie Shaw to ask if she and Chet's sister Iola would help to scout Kleng's shop.
“I'll be glad to, Frank,” she said. “But what should we look for?”
Frank explained his suspicions of the plumber. “I thought maybe you and Iola could round up some of the girls and take turns going in the store on errands or window shopping nearby. Keep the place covered. If you see a tall, thin man go in, call my father at once.”
Callie chuckled. “It sounds exciting. I'll round up my female detectives right away!”
“Be careful, Callie. Don't let Kleng catch on!”
“I'll do the best I can!” the girl promised.
Frank left for the camp, stopping to pick up Chet's clothes on the way. Mrs. Morton insisted that he stay for dinner. Afterward, Chet's father showed Frank some new milking machines. When Frank was finally able to excuse himself, it was growing dark.
He headed the convertible toward Skull Mountain. After about fifteen minutes, he slowed down and turned off the concrete highway onto the dirt road which led to the mountain. He had gone only a short distance when, in the mirror, he saw the glare of a single headlight bearing down on him.
Frank realized it was the headlight of a motorcycle. The boy slowed down, glancing at the speedometer. “I don't get it!” he muttered. “A trooper doesn't hand you a ticket for driving twenty on a country road!”
The motorcycle drew abreast of the convertible. Frank gasped. There were two riders. They were not troopers! Both wore masks!
“Pull over!” the driver ordered, and crowded the convertible to the side of the road. Frank turned off the ignition.
The motorcycle halted alongside and the men got off. One was short with a thick, muscular body. Frank's heart quickened. The other, who had been driving, was tall and thin!
“Get out!” the thin man ordered.
Warily Frank obeyed. He tried to distinguish the features of the two men, but their hatbrims were pulled low and their masks concealed their eyes, noses, and mouths.
“What's the idea?” Frank asked.
“You're Fenton Hardy's kid,” the thin man stated. “What's your father doing about the old man's disappearance?” Frank looked at the speaker quizzically.
“You know who we mean!” the thin man snapped. “What's Hardy found out about him?”
“I don't know what you're talking about!” Frank declared.
The thin man shrugged. “There are ways to make you talk,” he said, turning to his companion. “Shall we give the kid a demonstration?”
“Sure, Sweeper.”
Frank desperately scanned the dirt road for an approaching car. But no light glimmered in the darkness.
“Another thing,” Sweeper went on, “stop nosing into other people's business on the mountain. There are plenty of graves up thereâbut there's room for more.”
“Forget the talk,” the shorter man said roughly. “Let me work on him.”
As the man stepped toward him, Frank desperately decided to try an old trick. Suddenly he pretended to see someone behind the men. “Joe!” he yelled. “Over here!”
Caught off guard, the two thugs half turned. Instantly Frank darted into the darkness, then dove behind a clump of bushes.
Then he heard the men's voices and realized they were searching the car!
Footsteps approached, and Frank shrank back against the grass, feigning unconsciousness. Through almost closed eyes, he saw the two men staring down at him.
The thin man kicked him hard in the ribs. Frank stifled a grunt and did not move.
“He's out like a light,” Sweeper exclaimed in disgust. “Must have hit his head. Come on! We can't get any information out of him.”
Frank waited until he heard the roar of their vehicle. It backfired, then disappeared into the night with its motor throbbing in a peculiar, uneven rhythm.
Frank stood up shakily and returned to the convertible. The glove compartment was open and the front seat was littered with keys, flashlight bulbs, and crumpled papers and maps. Dazed, Frank drove slowly back to the highway to a farmhouse and asked permission to use the telephone.
The farmer directed him to the telephone and he placed a call to his father. “What's wrong, son?” Fenton Hardy queried when he heard Frank's unsteady voice. “You sound as if you're sick!”
“Not sick, Dad. Just a little shaky. Don't worry.”
Frank told his father of the incident. Mr. Hardy was greatly interested in the possibility that one of the men was the tall, thin stranger Frank had seen on the mountain and later entering Kleng's shop.
“It looks to me,” the boy continued, “as if the mystery of the disappearing water is somehow tied up to your missing scientist!”
“It certainly does, Frank,” the detective agreed. “And these fellows are dangerous.”
After promising his father to be careful, Frank hung up and thanked the farmer for the use of his telephone.
It was late when Frank arrived at the camp. Joe and Chet greeted him with enthusiasm, which changed to concern when Frank told them all that had happened.
“Zowie!” Chet exclaimed, shaking his head. “I'm not the only one who's had troubles!”
Frank grinned, and gave his friend the package of clothes. “Here, Chet,” he said. “Now you can join us when we go after the masked men!”
“Not me!” Chet declared, cradling the package in his arms and walking toward his tent. “I'm too delicate for strong-arm stuff!”
Frank noticed that the two engineers were not in camp. “Where are Bob and Dick?” he asked his brother.
“They went down to the reservoir,” Joe replied. “This afternoon Bob painted a white stripe on a slab of rock, to mark the water line. They've gone to see how fast the level is falling.”
As the boys walked toward their tents, Joe brought Frank up to date on his activities. That afternoon he had seen another column of smoke rising from the crest of the mountain. Joe had sighted the spot carefully, but when he had climbed the mountain, he had found no trace of a fire.
Other books
Dragonvein (Book Two) by Brian D. Anderson
Curveball by Rich Wallace
Berlin Games by Guy Walters
Wild Ginger by Anchee Min
Tales of Wonder by Jane Yolen
Keep Fighting by Paul Harrison
Secret Girlfriend by Bria Quinlan
Wrong then Right (A Love Happens Novel Book 2) by Jodi Watters
Breakaway by Kelly Jamieson
Murder on the Prowl by Rita Mae Brown