They were having sandwiches and milk at a nearby lunch counter when Joe suddenly set his glass down hard.
“Something wrong?” Ted asked.
“Wow!” Joe exclaimed. “Why didn’t I think of that before?”
Ted looked baffled. “Of what?”
“The Turner couple Robbie rescued from the glacier,” Joe replied in a low voice. “They might know something about his mysterious passenger.”
Ted brightened. “That’s a good hunch, Joe! Come on!”
The two boys hurried to the Juneau Hospital, where Joe inquired whether they might see Mr. and Mrs. Turner. The receptionist nodded pleasantly and consulted a card file. “They’re in Room 214. You may take the elevator.”
In Room 214 Joe and Ted found William Turner in bed, with his leg in a cast. Mrs. Turner, her right arm in a sling, was seated in a chair reading to her husband. Both were delighted to receive visitors.
After Joe introduced Ted, Mrs. Turner said, “So nice of you to come. Where’s Frank?”
Joe explained. Then Mr. Turner said, “Hope you boys didn’t wait long on the glacier before the pilot returned.”
“As a matter of fact, he never did get back,” Joe replied.
The couple looked dismayed. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry!” Mr. Turner said. “Robbins’ copter developed some kind of trouble on the way to Juneau. But he told us it could be fixed.”
Joe gave them the details of Robbie’s disappearance.
“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Mrs. Turner. “I wish we could help!”
“Perhaps you can,” said Joe. “Do you know anything about his passenger?”
The couple thought in silence. Joe prodded their memory. “Did you see anyone speak to Robbie when you landed at the seaplane base?”
“Only a couple of mechanics who were working nearby,” Mrs. Turner replied. “One of them called an ambulance for us.”
Joe then asked whether they had noticed anything suspicious on their glacier expedition.
“I’m afraid not,” Turner replied. “You see, ever since I retired three years ago, Clara and I have made a hobby of paleontology.”
Ted was interested to hear this. “I guess there are a lot of prehistoric animal bones around our Alaskan glaciers,” he remarked. “I know prospectors have come across the remains of ancient woolly mammoths. But I’ve never seen any myself.”
Forgetting his unfortunate accident, Turner brightened and talked about the finds he and his wife had made. “As a matter of fact,” he went on, “we believe the earliest life on this planet developed right here in North America.”
“The first human beings too?” Joe asked.
“That’s hard to say,” Turner replied. “However, I think the Indians originated on this continent.”
“I thought they were supposed to have come over from Asia.”
“That’s the opinion of most scientists,” Turner conceded. “Personally, I believe it was the other way around. They probably trekked from here to Asia via the land bridge over the Bering Straits. Later, they traveled back and forth.”
“Is there any evidence to support that theory?” Joe asked.
“Yes, a great deal. There are similarities between the American Indians and Asiatics both in features and customs. Also, they both used the bow and arrow, and have many common root words in their language.”
Excitedly Joe queried, “How about their ornaments and jewelry? Is there any chance the Alaskan Indians might have brought jade carvings back from Asia?”
Mr. Turner nodded. “Very possible, I should say.” After hearing about the boys’ planned trip up the Kooniak River, he said, “Why not keep alert for traces of prehistoric animals? You might stumble on some valuable finds.”
“What should we look for?” Ted inquired.
“Well, a white streak in gray rock might indicate a bone fossil,” Turner replied. “Or a depression in the rock could be a dinosaur’s footprint. Either one could lead you to a prehistoric skeleton.”
“We’ll remember that!” Joe promised as the boys got ready to leave.
They quickly strode to the dock and shoved off in the heavily laden motorboat, with the canoe trailing behind.
As soon as they reached the island, Joe told Frank of the conversation at the hospital. Frank was pleased to learn that the Turners supported his theory about the jade piece.
Not long after supper, the boys turned in, hoping for a good night’s sleep before embarking up the Kooniak next morning. Soon the camp was wrapped in silence.
But Frank was restless. Turning and tossing in his sleeping bag, he kept reviewing in his mind the baffling events that had happened since the Hardys had arrived in Alaska.
“Were those fish poachers mixed up in this mystery?” he asked himself. “And what about Robbie?…Looking for that gang in this wilderness may turn out to be a lot more difficult than we bargained for.”
Unable to sleep, Frank rose and pulled on his slacks, socks, and loafers. The luminous hands on his watch pointed to 12:20. He strolled toward the water, listening to the sighing of the night breeze in the tall pines.
Suddenly another sound broke the stillness—the soft splash of an oar, then a clink of metal containers rattling against one another! Frank strained his eyes in the darkness, every sense alert. He spotted a man in a boat. The next second he shouted:
“Wake up, fellows! Someone’s stealing our canoe and gasoline!”
As Frank raced toward the dock, Joe, Chet, Ted, and Tony burst out of their tents and sprinted in their bare feet. Too late! The noise of a motor roaring into action told them the intruder was making a clean getaway!
Reaching the water’s edge, Frank saw their canoe and gasoline untouched! The raider’s boat kicked up a violent wake as it streaked off. Suddenly the strange man stood upright and hurled something toward the island. As the object struck the little wooden dock next to the canoe, it burst with a dull thud and yellow flames shot high into the air!
Frank’s face blanched in the blinding glare. “It’s a fire bomb!” he yelled.
CHAPTER XII
Dinosaur Detective
“TONY, get some axes!” Frank commanded as the dock burst into flame. To the others he cried, “Follow me!”
As Tony dashed back to camp, Frank kicked off his loafers and plunged into the water. With his jackknife, he slashed the lines holding the boats.
“Chet, take our motorboat! Ted, grab yours!”
Joe, meanwhile, was frantically attaching the canoes by towlines to the crafts. “Okay! Take off!”
Chet and Ted revved up their motors and sped into the middle of the river. The Hardys, seared by the heat from the fiery dock, beached Tony’s boat at a safe distance, then hastily scrambled ashore.
Tony was already hacking at the dock timbers. “There’s an ax and a hatchet for you fellows!” he called.
Half the wooden structure was a crackling mass of flames. Shielding their faces as best they could, the three boys quickly cut away the remaining supports. Then Frank levered up the planking with his ax.
“Okay! Into the water!” he gasped.
Straining every muscle the trio ripped up the flimsy structure and hurled it into the water. It sank with a hissing cloud of steam. Panting and streaked with perspiration, the boys watched as the flames died out.
“Wow!” Tony muttered. “If that fire had spread to the brush, our whole camp would have gone up in smoke!”
Once the danger was past, Chet and Ted returned with the boats and canoes. These were moored to the blackened stumps of the dock pilings. Then all the boys trudged back to camp.
“Good thing you were awake, Frank,” Ted remarked wryly.
“We should have kept up our night watches,” Joe added. “Tony, I think you and Chet need more protection after we three leave the island.”
“Let’s report the incident to Juneau,” Frank suggested.
“I’ll do it right now,” Tony replied.
Warming up his radio, he tuned to the a
gency’s special frequency and spoke into the microphone: “Kooniak to Juneau!…Do you read me?”
Fortunately the station kept an operator on duty around the clock. After hearing Tony’s report of the fire-bomb attack, he consulted his superiors by telephone, and then called back. “We’ll send out two men first thing in the morning!”
Much relieved, the five boys drank some hot cocoa which Chet had brewed. Ted volunteered to stand the first watch during the remaining hours of darkness. Then the others crawled into their sleeping bags. The rest of the night passed quietly.
Shortly before ten o’clock that morning a boat arrived at the island, bringing the two agents from Juneau. They came ashore, carrying a small but powerful two-way radio set, which they turned over to the Hardys.
“The chief thought this might come in handy on your trip up the Kooniak,” one of the men explained. “If you get a lead on the gang, he’d like you to report to Juneau at once.”
“Thanks. We’ll do that,” Frank promised.
Half an hour later the Hardys and Ted set off, paddling to the western shore of the river. Here they unloaded the two canoes and made the portage around the falls.
“Whew! That’s a full day’s work before we even get started!” Joe remarked, wiping the perspiration from his brow.
Ted chuckled. “These Alaskan rivers are beautiful, but you’ll find they’re no picnic to navigate!”
After a brief lunch the boys embarked on the next leg of their journey. Frank volunteered to paddle the trailing canoe which carried the gasoline cans.
Ted approved. “We’ll ride better that way, with one man behind. And there’ll be no danger of losing the fuel tins in an upset.”
Ted, as the most experienced woodsman of the trio, took the bow position in the lead canoe. They shoved off, and soon found themselves paddling against a swift current. They were also traveling “uphill” since the Kooniak flowed down from the Alaskan coastal range.
“Boy, looks as though we’re in for a real workout!” Joe called back to his brother. Frank grinned in response.
“Don’t worry, you two are in good shape,” Ted commented. “This would be rough for a tenderfoot.”
At points along the riverbanks the heavy timber thinned out into lush meadowland, carpeted with wild flowers in every color of the rainbow. Frank and Joe were amazed at the dazzling display.
“It’s like a giant garden!” Joe said admiringly.
Ted pointed out many of the species by name—alpine forget-me-nots, fireweed with its tall reddish spires, yellow Arctic poppies, bluebells, creeping dogwood, and purple irises.
Steering close to shore, he reached out and plucked several flowers from a mass of yellow blooms that grew down to the water’s edge. “Monkey flowers,” he told Joe.
“They do look like little faces,” Joe said with a chuckle.
After paddling for several hours, they reached an area where the banks of the Kooniak rose in rocky walls. The beetling cliffs formed a canyon for the swift-flowing icy waters.
“Hey, look!” Joe cried suddenly, pointing up at one of the cliff faces. “There’s a white streak in the rock! Could it be part of a dinosaur?”
When Joe suggested investigating the streak, Ted and Frank agreed to moor the canoes and accompany him.
“It’ll be a tough climb, though,” Ted warned.
“We can make it!” Joe urged enthusiastically.
They tied their canoes to a clump of rock, climbed out, then began scaling the cliff. Footholds were few. After skinning their arms and legs on the rugged outcroppings, they finally reached the whitish streak.
“I’m sure it’s a bone!” Joe exclaimed.
All three examined it closely.
“Could be,” Ted agreed. “But ho do we get it out?”
“By the Indian method,” Frank suggested. “Chip it loose with a sharp stone.”
Arming themselves with chunks of flint, the boys followed Frank’s suggestion. Gradually more of the white object was revealed.
“I was right!” Joe exclaimed. “It’s definitely a bone!”
“Looks like some kind of an elbow or knee joint,” Ted commented. “If dinosaurs had such things!”
“Wait till I get back and tell Mr. Turner about this find!” Joe said jubilantly.
Frank broke into a chuckle. “I bet he’ll give you a medal!” he joked.
As the boys started down toward the canoes, their smiles faded. The steep cliff, which had been so difficult to climb, seemed almost impossible to descend.
Suddenly Joe gasped as he lost his footing. With a yell, he slid downward, making frantic attempts to slow his descent.
CHAPTER XIII
A Savage Ordeal
TED acted instantly! Leaping out from the cliff, he dived into the water far below. After a few strong strokes, he reached the rocky shore and climbed to the foot of the slope.
Joe, tumbling and twisting, was almost at the bottom of the cliff. In the nick of time Ted caught hold of Joe, breaking his fall just short of a jagged rock formation.
The impact threw both boys to the flinty ground, where they lay panting and trembling for a few moments.
“Whew!” gasped Joe. “How can I thank you, Ted! Finding that dinosaur bone came close to killing me! If it hadn’t been for you, my own bones would be in pretty bad shape by now!”
“Just a lucky catch,” Ted said with a grin.
Even so, Joe had suffered many bruises and his skin was scraped raw in several places.
Frank, who had tensely watched the rescue, shouted, “I’ll find a safer place to come down.”
By climbing higher and crossing a shelf of rock to a point farther upriver, he was able to make the descent in safety.
Ted, meanwhile, had opened their first-aid kit and applied medication to Joe’s cuts.
“I never knew fossil hunting could be so dangerous!” Frank quipped wryly as he rejoined the other two.
“You can say that again!” Joe muttered, blowing on a particularly painful cut on his right knee.
After resting for fifteen minutes, the trio resumed the trip upriver. Although they watched both banks carefully, the boys saw no one, white man or Indian.
Toward evening they approached a small, wooded island in mid-river.
“Let’s camp here,” Frank suggested. “It should make a pretty safe spot for the night.”
After paddling into a small cove, the travelers beached the canoes and scouted the island thoroughly before unloading their gear.
Soon a campfire was crackling and the aroma of hot corned beef and fried potatoes drifted over the island. After supper the boys chose watch periods. Joe drew the first assignment. Frank and Ted stretched out in their sleeping bags and were soon asleep. All were thoroughly refreshed by daybreak, although Joe was still somewhat stiff and sore.
Breakfast over, the canoeists pushed on. An hour of paddling brought them to an open spot on the west bank, where the clustering pines gave way to a narrow clearing.
“Hold it!” Ted cried, signaling with his paddle. “That’s an Indian trail!”
“It might lead to the Haida camp,” Joe conjectured.
Frank was certain of this. “Let’s go ashore and get Fleetfoot,” he urged.
“Think our gear will be safe here?” Joe asked as they drew the canoes up on the riverbank.
“Better not take any chances,” Frank replied. “I vote we cache our supplies and each of the canoes in a separate spot.”
Joe and Ted concurred, and in twenty minutes the boys had everything well hidden under heaps of brush and rocks. Then they headed inland along the trail. Soon they came upon the Haida village.
As they neared the cluster of wooden huts, the sound of excited voices reached their ears. A crowd of Indians were swarming about the village clearing.
The boys stopped short in astonishment at an amazing sight. A woman, wearing a green fringed parka, shot straight upward at least thirty feet above the crowd! She was treading air to rem
ain upright!
Seconds later, she landed on both feet in a walrus skin held by six men. They immediately snapped the hide taut and catapulted her up in the air again!
“Good night!” Joe gasped. “What do they think she is—a human medicine ball?”
A slender young Indian turned at the sound of Joe’s voice. It was Fleetfoot. He ran toward them with a wide-eyed look of fear. “Quick! Do not let my people see you!” he whispered. “Run for your lives!”
The boys looked puzzled, and Frank said, “Why? Your tribe was friendly enough the other time we came to your village.”
“Today we are having a wedding,” Fleetfoot explained. “That woman is the bride. She is a Kotzebue Eskimo, and now she is proving to everyone that she will be a good, skookum wife!”
“By letting them bounce her on that walrus hide?” Joe asked.
Fleetfoot nodded impatiently. “It is a custom of her people. And today any outsiders who come here must do the same! But it takes much practice. You would break your neck!”
“Wow!” Ted gulped. “We’d better clear out of here! Come on!”
But the boys tarried too long. Hearing their voices, the Indians swarmed toward them excitedly. Before the Hardys and Ted could take to their heels, they were dragged into the circle of yelling, whooping Haidas!
Joe gasped. “What do they think she is—a human medicine ball?”
“Hey, wait a minute!” Frank pleaded, striving to make himself heard above the uproar.
“When white men come to village, they must join in wedding games too!” a brave asserted. He pointed to Frank. “This one is biggest, looks plenty strong. He will try test with walrus hide!”
The brave explained the rules. Frank would be bounced in the air three times. If he managed to land upright after three tries, he was skookum.
Frank stared at the speaker unbelievingly.
Ignoring the protests of Joe, Ted, and Fleetfoot, the Indians seized Frank and hustled him onto the walrus hide. Then the hide was raised aloft and snapped taut. Frank went hurtling high in the air!
Mystery at Devil's Paw Page 7