The Secret of Wildcat Swamp
Page 12
“Who’s Fliegel?” Frank asked.
Stepping forward with a smile, Charlie Brace said, “Don’t you know him? Fliegel is the one who followed you from Bayport to Green Sand in his plane.”
“The black-eyed character who slithers along like a snake!” Joe exclaimed.
“That’s the guy,” Charlie continued. “He was in with Flint and Willie long before any of us local chaps got mixed up in the affair. Flint told me the whole story.”
“How’d he get started after the oil?” Frank wanted to know.
“Flint used to travel around the country a lot,” Charlie explained, “ridin’ the rails and scratchin’ out a living where he could. He was doin’ pretty well in a small town somewhere in the West when he ran into a sick, old wildcatter.”
Turk glared at the man who was turning state’s evidence, but Charlie continued:
“This old fellow claimed his memory had just returned after a long siege of illness. He was broke, but he said that if Flint would stake him until he could get a job he would tell Flint a tale that might make him rich.”
“And Flint believed him?” Joe asked.
“He figured it was worth a gamble,” Charlie said. “Anyway, the old man told Flint that fifty years before he had been one of a group of wildcatters who had found a rich deposit of oil. But they had had bad luck. A cave-in buried twenty of ’em. Only the old man escaped.”
“So that’s what the sign meant,” Frank said.
“Yes. The poor wildcatter nailed the sign over his friends’ grave. The shock was too much for him, though, and he lost his memory.”
All the listeners crowded close around Charlie to hear the fantastic story.
“After Flint had staked him to a place to live and had stocked it with food, the old man led him to the spot—the place you’ve been callin’ Wildcat Swamp. Shortly after that, the poor chap died.
“Before he could do anythin’ about the oil, Flint was caught in a train robbery and was sent to prison. That’s where he met Willie.”
“I wonder why he decided to share the loot with that creep,” Joe remarked.
“Well,” Charlie said, “I guess he figured Willie would be able to forge the documents to get the land away from Mrs. Sanderson. Then they added Turk because he knew something about engineering.”
“How did Snide fit in?” Joe asked with a glance at the glowering captive.
“He was an old friend of Willie and an experienced oil man. They contacted him and he brought Snake Fliegel with him. They gave Snake the job of trying to stop you and Cap Bailey from finding the swamp. He was the one who tampered with your plane so it would crack up before you got off the ground.”
“Jack outfoxed them on that one.” Joe grinned and saluted Wayne.
“Yes,” Charlie said, smiling. “When he flew off and left you at Green Sand Lake, Flint and Turk didn’t know what to make of it. They followed you in Fliegel’s plane, and Snake was on hand to help them break out of the jail there. Then he piloted them to a field outside Red Butte.”
“That’s where we came in,” one of the rangers spoke up. “We saw his plane land and noticed it had no license number. We investigated and found these cowboy friends of Snide meeting the plane. Our interest must have scared them.”
“Right,” said another ranger. “They held us at gunpoint, stole our uniforms, and shut us up in that old tower.”
“Don’t blame it all on us,” Turk snapped. “The cowpokes had plenty to do with this deal. They toppled that big boulder over, and sent the fake message to the sheriff’s office. Then they called on his wife and fouled up his radiotelephone, returning later to steal it.”
Frank and Joe listened intently to this recital, which pieced together various parts of the mystery. A few more questions cleared up the rest of the nefarious plot.
They learned that it was Willie and Snide who had read the story about Bailey’s fossil hunt and had held up Cap in his car; it was Snide who had shot down the antenna balloon. The skeleton, Charlie said, had been planted in the cave to scare off intruders.
After congratulating his sons on solving the mystery, Mr. Hardy said, “We ought to go to the fossil pit now and find out how Cap and Chet are.”
Several members of the posse were commissioned to take Turk, Snide, and his henchmen off to join Flint and Fliegel in jail.
Then the rest of the group started for the swamp. They had gone about halfway when they met Mrs. Sanderson and Mrs. Paul riding toward them.
“We have good news for you,” said Mrs. Sanderson. “Your friends Cap and Chet captured Willie the Penman just as he was trying to force me to sign away my property.”
When they heard this news Frank and Joe let out a whoop.
“You have nothing more to fear now,” Mr. Hardy told Mrs. Sanderson. “I’ll be glad to get a reputable oil company to check on the old wildcatters’ theory of a large oil deposit here.”
Soon the party reached the foot of the sandy slope in which the camel fossil was buried. There was the sound of pick and shovel from the pit, and in answer to Frank’s “Halloo” two heads popped up over the rim.
“I certainly am glad to see you all with a whole skin!” Cap declared as he shook hands with the Hardys.
Frank and Joe grinned. They had indeed pulled themselves out of a tight fix. Not many weeks were to elapse before they again found their lives in danger while trying to solve the mystery of The Crisscross Shadow.
“Wait till we tell you what’s happened here,” Chet said with pride.
“Now what?” Joe inquired.
“Remember when that first explosion went off? Well, we could feel the earth shaking and heaving way over here. We happened to look down into the old cave, and you should see it now.”
“It was like a little earthquake,” Cap added. “The explosion opened a subterranean cavern as beautiful as any. It’s full of gorgeous stalactites and stalagmites. Mrs. Sanderson, you own a very valuable piece of property even if it turns out that there isn’t a drop of oil on it.”
“Sure,” Chet said, “and we were the first sight-seers. Now I qualify for a job as guide.”
“A guide!” Joe needled. “You have a job back home—how about that swimming pool?”
“You fellows ran out on me,” Chet said reproachfully. “After all the help I’ve been to you, I should think you’d want to dig it for me.”
“I’ll help you,” offered Cap, “as soon as we dig up my camel fossil.”
Chet’s eyes shone.
“Frank, Joe, you heard the man!” he exclaimed. “Let’s go!”