Outside the trailer after supper, Frank and Joe began a loud argument to provide distraction for Tony to speak with Biff. The Hardys disputed who could heave a rock the farthest. Chet, having been tipped off earlier, joined in the hassle. The three selected a round rock about the weight of a shot and started a contest. The men gathered around cheering as first one boy, then another took turns.
Even Deemer was intrigued. “I can do better than any of you!” he boasted. His put, several inches better than Chet’s, spurred others to enter the contest. Tony, after a few hurls, melted away from the crowd and disappeared behind his bunk trailer. Biff, having received the high sign from Frank, did the same. A few minutes later the two sauntered back to the “meet.”
Meanwhile, Chet’s practicing paid off, and he became champ shot-putter a fraction of an inch over Deemer’s best hurl. Everyone cheered, but Angan said acidly, “If you worked as hard with the pick and shovel, Ball, we’d get some work done around here.”
“Yes, sir,” Chet replied meekly, and laughter drifted among the tall pines.
After sunset, darkness came on quickly and the trees loomed black against the fading daylight. Now the work camp took on a strange, foreboding hush which the Hardys had not experienced before.
Later, finding themselves alone in the trailer washroom, the brothers spoke in whispers.
“I wonder how many of these guys know Biff’s due for a bath in the canal,” said Joe.
Frank, drying his face, muttered through the towel, “Maybe only a few—or maybe more. That’s the trouble. We have no idea how many are involved.”
In their bunks the two boys passed the time reading magazines. But all the while they had the strange feeling that the others in the trailer were furtively watching them.
At eleven-thirty Mike Shannon stepped inside and came over to Frank. “Here’s the tool you’ll need for that job, Teller. In fact, maybe you and Jensen could fix it right now.” He slipped a blackjack into Frank’s hand and ambled out.
The brothers dressed, noting that the men appeared to be sleeping, undisturbed by Mike’s visit.
Five minutes later the Hardys roused Biff from his bunk. “Hey, McGuire, we got something to show you,” said Joe.
“Aw, let me sleep,” Biff said, putting on an act.
“Come on, you big lunk!”
“Okay, okay.” Biff dressed and followed the Hardys outside. As the trio set forth, Frank noticed that Mike and another man were trailing them.
Biff feigned annoyance. “What are you jokers going to show me this time of night?” he asked loudly.
“You’ll see. It’s down by the water,” Joe replied.
The boys made their way through the darkness, guided by the churning sound of the swift-running river. When they reached the edge of the water, the men’s footsteps grew louder. “Quick!” said Joe.
Frank drew back the blackjack and made a sweeping motion toward Biff’s head. With an anguished cry, Biff keeled over and fell, face down, into the rushing water.
“Boy, what a great act!” Joe whispered gleefully.
But his joy was short-lived. As he and Frank started to turn, the two men leaped on them! Each boy was dealt a heavy blow on the head. The Hardys reeled backward, unconscious, and tumbled into the torrent.
CHAPTER XIV
A Real Sacrifice
FRANK HARDY had the hideous sensation that he was caught in a maelstrom at the bottom of Niagara Falls. Tons of water crushed the air from his lungs, and his chest was constricted by a band of steel.
Then, as water swirled about his head, Frank regained consciousness. He was floating on his back, and the tightness around his chest was the strong arm of Biff Hooper.
“Easy, Frank. I got you.”
The boy felt himself being grabbed under both arms and pulled up on a stony bank. “You all right?” Biff asked.
At first Frank could hardly speak. His head throbbed and he was half choking from the water he had swallowed. “Joe—Where’s Joe?”
“I haven’t found him yet. Don’t worry. He’ll revive and make it to shore.”
Frank sat up groggily. “Man oh man, did those crooks ever double-cross us!” He rubbed his aching head and groaned. “They must’ve found out who we were! You saved my life, Biff. Thanks! Now we’ve got to find Joe!”
Frank struggled to his feet and staggered about, trying to gain his equilibrium. Finally his head cleared enough for him to walk without assistance. “We’ll follow the shore downstream, Biff.”
Pushing their way over jumbled rocks and through tangled brush which grew nearly to the water’s edge, the two boys followed the course of the surging stream. Frank stumbled once, but pressed on, his jaw set with determination.
It was half an hour later when the two came to a gentle bend in the river. Silt had washed ashore forming a sandy crescent, and near the middle of it the searchers saw two prone figures. Biff ran ahead, with Frank plodding behind him. Drawing closer, they noticed that the pair were half in, half out of the water.
“Joe!” called Frank. “Is that you, Joe?”
Biff was already kneeling beside one of the figures when Frank stumbled to his side. The ghostly moonlight revealed the faces of Joe Hardy and Tony Prito !
Tony moaned, stirred slightly, then blinked his eyes. Frank at once applied mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to his brother. Tony, meanwhile, slowly sat up, gasping from exhaustion.
Finally Joe sucked in a great breath of air. His eyelids fluttered and he smiled wanly at Frank.
“He’s okay!” Biff exulted, and set about briskly massaging Joe’s arms and legs.
It was not until fifteen minutes later that Joe and Tony felt equal to telling their story. Tony began. He had gone to the Hardys’ bunkhouse shortly after the two had left, and from the doorway, had seen Bond Deemer searching through the brothers’ belongings.
“Deemer didn’t notice me. He exploded when he found your heavy sweaters!” Tony said. “They had your name labels.”
“Leapin’ lizards!” Joe said weakly. “I know how that happened, Frank.”
“So do I. We stuck ’em in at the last second to please Aunt Gertrude and forgot to take the labels off. What goofs!”
Tony reported that he had trailed Deemer, who, furious at the deception, had passed the word along quickly to Mike and another man.
“I couldn’t stop them from going after you,” said Tony, “so I followed, figuring I could help later, and posted myself downstream a short way.”
When he saw the Hardys fall in, Tony had swum to the rescue and reached Joe first. “I spotted Biff grabbing you, Frank.”
The Hardys expressed gratitude to their buddies. “We would have been goners without you two,” said Joe.
“Which reminds me,” Biff said dryly, “the gang probably thinks the three of us are dead.”
“And I suppose they’ve got me pegged,” said Tony.
“That leaves Chet alone,” said Frank. “He’s the only connection we have left to Deemer and his mob.”
The four boys sat on the sand, discussing their next move. They all thought that Chet might have a chance to remain unsuspected of being one of the sleuthing team. Should they ask him to stay on the job as their only direct link with the ex-convicts?
“It’ll be pretty risky,” Joe said. “We’d better leave the decision up to Chet.”
Having agreed to this, the boys made their way farther downstream, crossed an old bridge, and edged stealthily back toward the construction camp. Joe had brought a waterproof flashlight, so the quartet had little trouble finding their way.
Tony, whose bunk was near Chet’s, volunteered to arouse him. While the Hardys and Biff waited in the woods, Tony slipped into the trailer. “Keep quiet and come with me,” he whispered. “Hurry!”
Befogged with sleep, Chet groped after Tony in the darkness. When they joined the others, Frank and Joe recounted the latest happenings.
The chunky boy was now fully awake. “Zowie, fellows! You sure ha
d a close call!” He shifted uncomfortably. “Guess it’d be awfully dangerous to stay here alone.”
“Yes,” said Frank. “That’s what we were going to ask you about.”
“Hmm.” Chet drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders.
“Well?” Biff prompted.
“I’ll stay!”
“Good boy!” said Joe. “We knew you would.”
The plan was to have Chet contact Phil Cohen at the Eagle Hotel in Boonton if anything important developed. “We’ll check with him later,” said Frank and added, “Just keep on working as usual, and keep your ears and eyes open.”
After handshakes all around, Tony returned with Chet to retrieve the Hardys’ radio and binoculars and rope from the cinder block. Chet was about to re-enter his trailer, when Tony said, “Got any food around, Chet?”
“Well, I did stash some away—”
“As usual.” Tony chuckled.
Chet disappeared inside and emerged carrying a paper bag. “There’s bread and cheese in here,” he said. “A midnight snack I was saving. Don’t say I never gave you anything!”
“You mean take all of it?”
“Every bit,” said Chet. “I better get back.”
When Tony told the others of Chet’s sacrifice, Joe whistled. “A real pal! Giving up his last bite!”
The four young sleuths pressed deeper and deeper into the woods. Finally they approached the area where the Hardys had seen the eerie rosy light in the sky. There the boys stopped and Frank contacted Radley by radio, giving him a full report.
The operative was stunned to hear what had happened to the Hardys and their friends.
“We’re okay now,” Frank said. He asked Sam to have the Boonton police keep tabs on Yancy and any visitors at the hospital.
“All right,” Radley said. “But from what you tell me, I think we should close in on the mob immediately.”
Frank explained that first he wanted to find out who the baron was. “He must be the ringleader,” Frank added. “Besides, we have to uncover what’s behind the bridge sabotage.”
Radley reluctantly agreed to wait, but warned the boys to be extremely careful in their search for the baron. Sam informed the Hardys that their father was improving, but his memory remained unclear. Also, the prisoner Monk Smith had not yet talked.
“We’ll keep in touch, Sam,” Frank said.
“Over and out.”
“What next?” asked Biff.
Joe replied promptly, “Get some rest and start out at dawn to find the baron. He had scarcely spoken when a muffled blast in the distance filled the air.
“Dynamite!” Tony cried out.
CHAPTER XV
A Lofty Lookout
THE blast was followed immediately by a rosy light which spread over the horizon like the aurora borealis. The glow lasted for five minutes, then disappeared.
“That’s Rosy,” Frank said, recalling what Yancy had told him about the weird light. “I’ll bet it’s some sort of trick to scare the superstitious hillbillies.”
“But why?” queried Biff.
The Hardys both guessed that the strange phenomenon was designed by the criminals to keep the local people in a state of fear so they would not interfere with the gang’s project.
“Whatever that is,” added Joe.
“If their leader can make that kind of magic,” Frank went on, “think what’ll happen to anyone who defected or refused to obey orders.”
This line of reasoning interested Tony particularly.
“Then you think Rosy has something to do with the road and bridge construction trouble?”
“Yes,” Frank replied, “but the explosion puzzles me. I don’t think it sounded like dynamite. I suggest we go on a hunt for Rosy after we get some shut-eye.”
By now the pink hue had died away. The weary foursome selected a sheltered spot, carpeted with pine needles, and flopped down. In a minute all were sleeping soundly.
The sun’s rays slanting into his eyes awakened Frank. He aroused the others, who stretched and yawned.
“I could have slept all day,” said Biff, standing up to flex his muscles.
“Not when we have a date with Rosy,” Joe quipped.
Biff came right back. “I wonder if she’s as cute as Iola Morton.”
Scouting around for a few minutes, Tony found a rivulet of clear spring water. After a refreshing drink, the boys bathed their faces and hands. Next, Chet’s gift of grub was divided equally.
When they finished eating, the Hardys decided they should follow the trail which forked up the mountain, since the light seemed to have come from that general direction. Single file, the boys trudged up the slope, circumventing the bear cave.
Suddenly Joe stopped dead in his tracks. “Frank, look at that!” he said, pointing.
They all glanced to the top of the ridge.
“What do you see?” Biff asked.
“The tallest pine tree right there in the center. Watch near the top.”
A moment later there was a glint as the sun’s rays bounced off a bright object.
“Binoculars!” said Frank.
“Mama mia!” Tony burst out. “A lookout. The gang must have a hideout nearby.”
The boys agreed this would be the most likely place for the gang to post a sentry. A spy, high in the tree, could command a view of the valley and the entire road project. Anybody coming or going on the trail would be in the sweep of vision.
Frank cautioned everyone to walk parallel to the trail, careful to keep concealed among the trees.
“It might be hard to find the tree when we get there,” Frank said as they neared the ridge. The young sleuths craned their necks but could not see the lookout.
When they reached the summit, the boys glanced in every direction. The boughs grew so thick that it was almost impossible to see the treetops in an unbroken line.
“At least,” Joe said, “the spy probably can’t see us so easily. That’s some advantage.”
Frank guessed that they might have drifted too far to the south in their climb. “Let’s walk north along the ridge,” he suggested.
The boys spread out, inspecting one pine after another.
Biff, in the lead, waved wildly, signaling for silence. The others hurried to where he stood at the base of a towering tree. Biff pointed to an odd-looking cut, slightly higher than his head.
“Good night!” Joe whispered. “That’s the spiral sign.”
The carving closely resembled what the Hardys had previously mistaken for an M with three loops.
“This is our tree!” Frank whispered, and looked around at the other side of the trunk. “Oh baby, see what I found!”
A set of spikes, hammered into the tree at regular intervals, provided footholds leading up among the dark branches of the evergreen.
Biff was jubilant. “We’ve treed the polecat,” he said. “Let’s climb up and sack him.”
“That might not be so easy,” Tony said. “We’d probably find ourselves taking a nose dive into the pine needles.”
Frank and Joe agreed with Tony. An assault from below could be dangerous. The person perched in the tree had the advantage of height. Also, he might alert the gang through a coded flash of some kind.
“Maybe they’ll change lookouts soon,” Frank said. “Our only hope is to wait.”
The boys posted themselves at various spots within a five-yard radius from the tree and began their vigil. Several times the twittering of birds and the warmth of the sun almost lulled them into drowsiness. Time dragged by.
Frank, rubbing his eyes to stay awake, caught the movement of a small piece of bark floating down from the big pine. He glanced up and saw that the branches far above him were shaking. Their quarry was climbing down. Frank sprang to his feet and signaled the others. The boys dashed behind a cluster of nearby pines and watched as a pair of long legs came into view, descending the spikes. Then, with both arms clinging to the trunk, a tall, gangling youth scrambled to the ground. S
imultaneously, the Hardys and their pals leaped from hiding and seized him.
“Willy Teeple!” Frank cried out. The hillbilly looked half-frightened to death. He squirmed and struggled, but to no avail.
“What were you doing up there?” Frank asked.
“He’s the long nit, don’t you remember?” Joe put in.
“You—you know about that?” Willy quavered, shaking with fright.
“Of course we do,” Tony said.
“Sure,” Frank went on, “the helix too, and more.”
A look of earnest pleading came into Willy Teeple’s eyes. “Look! You fellows know too much,” he said. “Go away and don’t come back.”
“We’re going to stay right here,” Joe said, “and get to the bottom of this!”
“Please don’t,” Willy implored. “Else you’ll get the same thing that—that happened to your father!”
The mention of Fenton Hardy electrified the boys.
“What do you know about our father?” Frank snapped.
“Did you have anything to do with what happened to him?” demanded Joe.
Willy shook his head, but would say no more about Mr. Hardy.
Both Biff and Tony were all for Willy being turned over to the Boonton police, but the hillbilly begged them not to do this.
“If the boss knows you’ve captured me, he’ll hurt my father,” Willy went on.
“Who’s your boss—the baron?” Joe prodded.
Willy’s face went ashen. “I can’t tell you.”
“What do you expect?” Frank said. “That we just let you go?”
“I won’t fink on you, honest!” Willy Teeple said fervently. “I don’t want to work for those crooks, but if I say any more, they’ll kill me if they find out.”
Willy swore again that he would not betray the Hardys and their friends. While Biff kept an arm-lock on their captive, Frank and Joe stepped to one side to discuss the matter.
“Okay,” Frank said, stepping forward. “Willy, we’ll let you go, but don’t say one single word about seeing us.”
Joe tried another question. “What about Rosy? Is that part of the gang’s scheme?”
Willy, terror in his eyes, remained silent. The boys did find out from him that the trail continued down the other side of the mountain and connected with a narrow road leading to Boonton.
The Mystery of the Spiral Bridge Page 8