Mystery at Devil's Paw

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Do I get my whirlybird ride now?”

  “Right!” Joe said. “You certainly deserve it!”

  Preparations for the flight went on under mounting tension. Every few moments Frank or Joe glanced up at the rocky cliff to see whether or not Stransky’s men were pursuing them.

  Finally Robbie announced, “Okay, we’re set to go, but I’ve got bad news.”

  “What’s that?” Joe said.

  “I can’t take all of you out in one trip. Two must be left behind.”

  “I’ll stay,” Joe volunteered.

  “Me too,” Chet offered without hesitation.

  Frank protested at first, saying he wanted to stay with his brother. But Joe insisted that Frank go back to give details of their adventure to the authorities in Juneau.

  With snappy salutes, Chet and Joe bade their companions farewell. The door of the helicopter closed. With a whining sound the rotors turned, slowly at first, then whirred into full action.

  Suddenly, above the noise of the rotors, Joe and Chet heard a volley of rifleshots from the cliff.

  “Run for cover!” Joe cried out.

  The two boys darted behind a boulder. “Will the copter get off in time?” Joe wondered, his heart pounding. The lives of Frank and the three others aboard were at stake! Breathlessly Joe and Chet watched as the helicopter rose, gained sufficient altitude, and took forward flight. Seconds later the chopper blinked its running lights.

  “Thank goodness!” Joe exclaimed. “They’re safe!”

  The helicopter pilot had worked feverishly to get out of range of the snipers. The first indication of enemy fire had been a bullet ripping through the fuselage close to Frank’s head.

  Now beyond reach of the guns, Frank, Tony, and Robbie conferred. “Better contact Juneau pronto,” Frank said.

  “Right!” Robbie flicked on the radio.

  It took only a few minutes to relay the urgent summons. The operator at the seaplane base promised to alert the authorities, not only in the state of Alaska, but also in British Columbia.

  “Now what?” Tony asked.

  “We’ll stand by,” Frank replied. “Shouldn’t take long.”

  In less than an hour, aircraft of both the United States and Canadian forces came streaking low over the woods. Robbie had pinpointed their location.

  As if by magic, the darkness suddenly turned to daylight. Powerful magnesium flares attached to parachutes illuminated the entire area. This was followed by more billowing chutes—paratroops! They ringed the area and their walkie-talkie reports could be heard plainly over the radio of the hovering copter.

  The action was swift and conclusive. The fleeing enemy, hampered by swampy ground and the dark night, were hunted down. In a few hours the gang had been rounded up.

  “Good show. Better than a cowboy movie!” Fleetfoot exclaimed.

  The others laughed. Then Frank urged, “Let’s get an Army helicopter to go down with us and pick up Joe and Chet.”

  Robbie radioed the request and received an affirmative reply.

  “We’ll stand by to follow you in,” came the Army pilot’s voice.

  Robbie set his craft down at the place where they had left the two boys. Magnesium flares still drifting down from the sky illuminated the area. Finally Chet and Joe dashed out from between two large boulders. They reached the helicopter as the Army craft came in alongside.

  “Frank!” Joe called excitedly as his brother jumped down from the chopper. “We found it! We found it!”

  “What?” Frank asked, running up.

  “The rocket! It made a crater just beyond the place where we were hiding.”

  Joe and Chet led the others to the spot. Only part of the metal hull could be seen protruding from the sandy spot where the rocket had landed.

  “This is it all right!” Robbie declared.

  Moments later a colonel from the Air Force joined the boys. When told about the find, he quickly swore them all to secrecy.

  “You’ve done your country a tremendous service,” he praised the Hardys and their friends, then hastened off to radio a coded report to Washington.

  A little later Robbie’s group took off in his helicopter, while Joe and Chet boarded the Army chopper for the ride back to Juneau.

  “Wow, what excitement!” Joe exclaimed as he sat down.

  At the moment he had no way of knowing that more excitement was to come the Hardys’ way very soon. In their next adventure, The Mystery of the Chinese Junk, the two young sleuths are plunged into danger when they try to find the solution to a baffling puzzle.

  The Hardys and the others rendezvoused at the air base in Juneau. There they learned that Remo’s reinforcements had been captured at the mouth of the Kooniak. Frank and Joe quickly put through a radio message to their father in Bayport and took turns telling of their adventures.

  “I’m mighty proud of you,” Fenton Hardy said, after hearing the full story. “Are you going back for the buried treasure?”

  “Tomorrow, Dad.”

  Just then Tony Prito brought in more news, which was relayed by Frank to Bayport. The prisoner, nicknamed Watchdog, had finally confessed to police that his real name was Shad Yawke. He had been hired by the Stranskys to terrorize the stream guard on duty in the Kooniak. He had also hired the salmon poachers to mislead the Hardys, in case they should guess the foreign ring’s true purpose—that of finding the rocket.

  Yawke confirmed Frank’s suspicion about the star-heel imprint which the boys had found in so many places. It was the trademark of a foreign manufacturer whose shoes were worn by the alien gang.

  “A stupid oversight by the Stranskys,” Joe commented.

  The captured henchman admitted, too, the hurling of the fire bomb and the looting of the Indian grave houses by the gang. Further interrogation revealed that he knew about the ancient Indian paddle. One of the gang had taken the paddle and subsequently lost it when spying on Tony Prito.

  Mr. Hardy supplied his sons with additional information about Romo Stransky’s activities.

  “When Romo learned from his twin that Tony was sending for you boys,” Mr. Hardy related. “he tried to prevent you from leaving Bayport.”

  “And was he the truck driver who forced us off the road?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I guess that clears up the mystery, Dad. We’ll be home soon.” Frank said good-by and hung up.

  At that moment Chet walked into the radio room, his face beaming. “There’s one thing I didn’t tell you fellows about.”

  “What’s that? Did you dig up some more crooks, Chet?” Frank asked with a twinkle.

  “No,” the boy said. “I caught a salmon, a twenty-pound beaut. We’re going to have a real feast tonight. Fleetfoot will cook it Indian style.”

  Frank and Joe chuckled. “Here’s one time I’m with you,” Joe said, pumping the stout boy’s hand. “I’m hungry.”

  “Me, too!” Frank agreed heartily.

  “Call the fellows together.” Joe grinned. “This will be one salmon the Alaskan bears won’t get!”