Hunting for Hidden Gold

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “You know,” Frank said, “I’m beginning to see why Hopkins was so interested when he saw Mike Onslow’s map.”

  “You must be thinking the same thing I am,” Joe returned. “Big Al must be looking for Onslow’s missing gold!”

  Frank pounded his fist into his palm as another thought struck him. “And, if he staked it out twenty-five years ago,” he added excitedly, “that means—Big Al and Black Pepper are the same person! Also, the wrecked plane they’re looking for must be the crate Bart Dawson took off in!”

  Joe nodded thoughtfully. “Big Al seems to be sure Dawson died in the wreck.”

  “Which doesn’t jibe with what Ben Tinker told us,” Frank pointed out. “Ben claimed he saw Dawson in Helena a couple of years later.”

  “True—though nobody around here seems to believe anything Ben says.”

  “I know—but he did hear the music in the dance hall.”

  Joe chuckled. “That’s right. Of course it wasn’t exactly played by Charlie’s ghost.”

  Dusk was gathering fast. By the time the boys had passed through the stretch of timber, it was no longer possible to make out Slip Gun’s tracks, nor see the rider ahead. By now Frank and Joe were able to recognize familiar landmarks and inside of an hour were crossing the ridge above Lucky Lode. The town lights were visible below.

  “It’s tough luck we weren’t able to nab Slip Gun,” Frank said, as the brothers spurred their horses down the trail.

  “Let’s hope we’re not too late to warn Dad!” Joe said grimly.

  There was no sign of the horseman they were pursuing as they pounded through the streets of Lucky Lode. The boys’ fears mounted when they drew in sight of Hank’s cabin. Although darkness had fallen, no lights showed in the windows.

  Frank and Joe pulled to a halt, leaped from their horses, and dashed inside, fear gripping them.

  “Hank! Dad!” Frank shouted.

  No one answered. Without bothering to light the oil lamp, the boys blundered through the darkness and hastily checked the two sleeping rooms and the kitchen.

  The cabin was empty!

  CHAPTER XIII

  A Fight in the Dark

  “WE’RE too late!” Frank muttered in a choking voice.

  Joe was too stunned to speak. The killer must have arrived before theml But where had the victims been taken?

  The next instant the Hardys stiffened in suspense. Someone was slipping quietly into the cabin through the half-open front door.

  “That you, boys?” It was Hank Shale!

  Frank and Joe rushed to question him.

  “What happened to Dad?” Joe exclaimed.

  “Don’t worry—your pa’s safe,” the Westerner assured them. “I just finished movin’ him to Ben Tinker’s place.”

  A wave of relief swept over the boys. “Did you know he was in danger?” Frank asked.

  “We figgered so. After I told him how Big Al’s men tried to get you lads, your pa had a hunch the gang might come after him next.”

  “His hunch was right,” Joe said. “Big Al’s spy was ordered to kill Dad tonight!”

  Hank gave a low whistle. “By jingo, then he took cover just in time!” Hank listened tensely as the boys related their latest adventures.

  “We’d better not wait any longer,” Frank declared. “The killer may make his move any time now. Hank, you’d better go back to Ben’s place and stand guard!”

  “What about you two?”

  “We’ll wait here at the cabin and see if Slip Gun shows up,” Frank replied.

  “And if he does,” Joe declared, “we’ll have him dead to rights!”

  “Now hold on!” said Hank. “If this feller’s comin’ to kill your pa, he’ll be armed. It’d be plumb foolish to try takin’ him on alone.”

  “Then we’ll wait outside and just see who he is,” Frank promised hastily. “The arrest can be handled later.”

  Hank started back to Ben Tinker’s. Meanwhile, Joe lighted the oil lamp and the boys rummaged quickly through their father’s gear for extra flashlights to replace the ones they had lost in the river. Then they extinguished the lamp and hurried outside.

  After stabling their horses in the lean-to, without taking time to unsaddle them, the boys darted into a nearby clump of trees. They picked out a spot from which they could watch the front door of the cabin and waited. For the next quarter of an hour nothing disturbed the peaceful quiet of the icy night.

  Suddenly Frank gave a low hiss and pointed toward the cabin. The boys could barely discern the figure of a man, moving silently. He tried the door cautiously, then slipped inside.

  “Think we should try to nab him?” Joe whispered.

  “We promised Hank we wouldn’t,” Frank reminded his brother. “But don’t worry—once he comes back, we won’t let him out of our sight till we’ve identified him. This time he won’t give us the slip!”

  The boys fell silent as a faint glow of light showed through the cabin window. The glow moved about. Evidently the intruder had brought a flashlight of his own.

  The Hardys stiffened in surprise as a second figure suddenly loomed in the darkness near the cabin. The newcomer halted for an instant, then moved swiftly toward the door and went inside.

  Joe gasped, “Two of them!”

  A second later came a muffled outburst of voices, then a sharp cry. Confused noises followed, then a crash.

  “They’re fighting!” Frank sprang up. “Come on! That second person must have surprised the killer—he may need help!”

  Joe followed as his brother sprinted from their hiding place. Frank reached the cabin first and tried to open the door. But it resisted his efforts, as if something were blocking it.

  Frank braced his shoulder and slammed hard against the wood. This time it yielded and came open part way.

  “Wait—wait a minute!” a voice just inside muttered thickly.

  The boys pushed on through and almost stumbled over someone on the floor. Frank snapped on his flashlight. Its bright beam revealed the face of Burke, the storekeeper!

  “Never mind me! Get him!” Burke rasped as he struggled to his feet. “He went through the back window!”

  Joe had already switched on his flashlight. As Burke spoke, the beam swept through the doorway and showed an open window.

  Joe darted out the front door and ran to the back of the cabin. Frank dashed straight to the bedroom and stuck his head out the window.

  Tracks were visible in the snow, leading off toward the heavy brush and timber skirting the hillside. Joe came around the corner of the cabin, picked out the footprints with the beam of his flashlight, and began following them.

  “Hold it, Joe!” Frank called. “That fellow might have a gun!”

  Joe halted unwillingly and looked back at his brother. “If he had a gun, wouldn’t he have used it on Burke?”

  “How do we know?” Frank argued. “Maybe he had no chance to draw before he knocked Burke down—and after he heard us at the door, he may have been more interested in making a getaway. Anyhow, don’t risk it, Joe!”

  “Okay.” Joe shrugged and returned to the cabin.

  By this time Burke was sitting down, and Frank had righted the overturned table and chairs. The storekeeper was disheveled and had a raw-looking bruise on his right cheek.

  “What happened?” Frank asked him.

  “I came here to see you boys or your dad,” Burke replied. “Instead, I discovered Bob Dodge nosin’ around with a Hashlight—”

  “Dodge!” Frank and Joe exclaimed together. “You heard me!” the storekeeper snapped. He rubbed his cheek gingerly. “I accused him of bein’ a crook, and he slugged me with his flashlight. Then we started fightin’. Finally Dodge knocked me down against the door, and before I could get up, he scrammed.”

  “If Dodge had the flashlight, how could you see who he was?” Joe asked.

  “I couldn’t at first,” Burke explained. “I called out, ‘Who are you?’ or ‘Who’s there?’—somethin’ like that. T
hen he started givin’ me some cock-and-bull story about lookin’ for your dad and Hank Shale, and I recognized his voice. I said, ‘Don’t try to kid me, Dodge—you’re in with that gang Mr. Hardy’s after!’ That’s when he conked me with the flashlight.”

  The boys looked at each other in bewilderment.

  “What made you suspect Dodge is in league with Big Al’s gang?” Frank questioned.

  “Because I suddenly remembered him buyin’ some red paint soon after your dad first came to Lucky Lode,” Burke replied. “It slipped my mind when you boys asked me. That’s what I was comin’ here to tell you.”

  Frank and Joe digested this startling news. Burke’s story added up to a convincing case against Dodge.

  “That would explain why he fled,” Joe said. “If he figured the jig was up, Mr. Dodge may have headed for the gang’s hideout.”

  “Or taken off in his copter!” Frank exclaimed. “I’ll see if it’s still where he landed us.”

  “We’ll both go,” Joe said.

  “No need for that,” his brother argued. “You’d better help Mr. Burke back to his store.”

  From the quick look his brother flashed him, Joe guessed that Frank still mistrusted Burke and wanted the man kept under surveillance.

  Burke, however, declined the offer. “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I’m okay now.”

  The storekeeper stood up to go, but after taking a few steps, he teetered and leaned weakly against the wall.

  “Whew!” Burke muttered, shaking his head. “Guess I’m still a bit woozy from that clout Dodge gave me.”

  Joe helped him back to the chair, then went for some water from the kitchen pump. Before leaving, Frank made an excuse to join Joe.

  “Take Burke to the store,” he whispered. “Then go straight to Ben Tinker’s and make sure Dad’s okay. I’ll meet you there.”

  Frank went outside, got his horse from the lean-to, and rode off toward the clearing where he judged the helicopter was parked.

  Joe, meanwhile, bathed Burke’s head with cold water and bandaged his injured cheek.

  “Where did your dad go?” Burke asked.

  “He and Hank Shale are following a lead on the case,” Joe said vaguely. He then suggested that they take the remaining two horses and ride, rather than walk, to the store.

  Burke shook his head. “It’s not far enough to bother. Besides, the way I feel, I’m not sure I could stick onto a saddle.”

  Joe assisted him on foot to the store with no further difficulty. Burke thanked him, said good night, and went inside. Joe lingered until he saw the light go out. Then he hurried to Ben Tinker’s cabin.

  The young detective found Mr. Hardy, Hank, and Ben awake and gathered around a glowing potbelly stove. They listened with keen interest as Joe poured out his story of the night’s events. Just as he was finishing, there came the sound of a horse being reined up outside, and a moment later Frank burst into the cabin.

  “The helicopter’s still at the field,” Frank reported. “I scouted around a bit, but there’s no sign of Dodge. And he hasn’t returned to the hotel.”

  Mr. Hardy frowned and stroked his jaw. “I find it hard to believe that Bob Dodge can be a criminal—much less a killer,” the detective said. “What’s your opinion, boys?”

  “Until tonight it seemed to me to be a tossup between Burke and Dodge,” Joe replied. “We’ve suspected one of them must be Big Al’s spy, ever since that night we trailed the hooded man to the general store.”

  Frank nodded and tallied up the evidence.

  His father said, “Burke may be lying about what happened at the cabin tonight. Are you sure Dodge wasn’t the second man to arrive?”

  “It was too dark to tell,” Frank admitted. “But you’re right—Dodge may have surprised Burke there and accused him of working with the gang. And Burke may have done the attacking but got knocked down.”

  “In that case, why should Dodge duck out the window?” Hank objected.

  “Burke was blocking the door,” Joe said. “Maybe Dodge decided to get out fast, in case Burke came at him again.”

  Ben Tinker put in, “That still don’t explain where he disappeared to.”

  Mr. Hardy arose from his chair and paced back and forth. “The flashlight might carry fingerprints,” he remarked. “Was it still around?”

  “I didn’t see it,” Joe replied. “Dodge must have taken it with him.”

  “But we don’t know that,” Frank emphasized. “Burke could have slipped it inside his coat while we were looking out back.”

  Joe agreed. “We should have checked on that right away.”

  Frank suddenly snapped his fingers. “Let’s assume Dodge is innocent. And if he got those burrs on his coat up at the cemetery, he must have been the third man—the one we heard behind us.”

  “Yes, and he may have spotted the blue signal light and gone to investigate just as we did.”

  “Right,” Frank went on. “So maybe Dodge suspected all along that Burke was the man who met Slim. But he didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Then, when he discovered Burke at the cabin tonight, he accused him outright—and Burke got panicky and jumped him.”

  Ben Tinker grunted suspiciously. “If Dodge suspected Burke, whyn’t he tell you lads or your pa?”

  “Matter of fact, Dodge did come around yesterday,” Hank reminded them. “But the doc was tendin’ to Fenton, and the boys weren’t here, so he never got to talk to ’em.”

  “Maybe that’s why Dodge came to the cabin tonight—to tell us his suspicions,” Mr. Hardy conjectured. “Has Burke ever been in trouble with the law?” he asked.

  Hank and Ben replied that so far as they knew, he had not.

  Frank began pacing the floor. “As things stand, we can make out a pretty convincing case for or against either Burke or Dodge,” he stated. “Dodge has disappeared but Burke is still around. What we need is some way to test Burke’s innocence—or guilt.”

  Mr. Hardy nodded. “Good thought.”

  “We know that the gang wants Joe and me out of the way,” Frank went on. “And we also know they’re after Mike Onslow’s lost gold. So let’s set a trap for Burke.”

  “How?” asked Joe.

  Frank grinned and said coolly, “By using the best possible bait—the gold and ourselves!”

  CHAPTER XIV

  The Broken Knife

  FRANK explained his plan while the others listened approvingly.

  “Right smart idea, boy!” Ben Tinker cackled appreciatively. “If Burke’s in league with the gang, I’ll lay ten to one he snaps at the bait!”

  Mr. Hardy agreed. “But you boys should have a lawman on hand when the trap is sprung.”

  “I’ll go along,” Hank Shale volunteered. “And I’ll get Sheriff Kenner over at Bear Creek.”

  After details of the planned capture had been settled, Mr. Hardy said, “You boys had better bunk here for the night, if Ben will permit. It might be risky staying at Hank’s place, in case the gang makes another attempt on our lives.”

  Ben willingly approved, and the boys said they would stretch out on blankets by the stove.

  “We’ll have to make one more trip back to Hank’s, though, to tend the horses,” Joe added.

  The brothers set out, riding double on Frank’s horse. By this hour the long, single street of Lucky Lode was dark and silent. When the Hardys reached Hank’s cabin, they dismounted and went to the lean-to.

  It was empty! Both Joe’s horse and Daisy, the pack mare, were gone!

  “Who could have taken them?” Joe gasped.

  Frank was equally mystified. “Maybe footprints will give us a clue,” he said hopefully.

  The boys shone their flashlights around the trampled snow. Horseshoe prints led off up the hillside. A man’s tracks were heading toward the cabin from the patch of timber into which Dodge had disappeared earlier.

  “He must have come back after we left!” Joe exclaimed.

  “Sure looks that way,” Frank agreed. “W
e can check more carefully by daylight.”

  The boys returned to Ben’s and stabled Frank’s horse in one of the old ghost-town buildings. When they went inside the cabin, the three men were asleep. Ben was snoring loudly.

  “Even that won’t keep me awake tonight!” Joe grinned, and yawned deeply.

  In spite of their exhausting adventures, Frank and Joe awoke at daybreak, thoroughly refreshed. After pulling on their clothes, they hurried back to Hank Shale’s cabin.

  Although the snow had wind-drifted, it was still possible to make out Dodge’s tracks. They led away from the cabin to the woods, then returned to the lean-to.

  “He was punchy, all right,” Frank remarked. “His steps zigzagged.”

  The prints led to a clump of brush, where the crushed, broken twigs indicated the fugitive had fallen full length.

  “Dodge collapsed when he got this far!” Joe said in surprise.

  “Yes, Joe. And this may prove his innocence.”

  “How so?”

  “Suppose it was Burke who beaned him with the flashlight, instead of the other way around. Dodge might have fought back, knocked Burke down, then scrammed out the window before Burke could come at him again. Dodge may have been dazed from the blow—”

  “I get it!” Joe interrupted excitedly. “So he staggered out here in the woods, maybe not even knowing where he was going, and passed out.”

  Frank said he was puzzled. “Why should Dodge go riding off up the hillside, instead of back into town? And why take Daisy?”

  Joe shook his head. “Maybe we have him figured all wrong. Could be he is part of the gang, and wanted to get up to their hideout.”

  Frank and Joe checked again on the helicopter and found it still in the clearing. On their way back through Lucky Lode, the Hardys stopped off at the hotel. The worried manager informed them that he had had no word from the vanished armored-car-company owner.

  “I’ve notified Sheriff Kenner and I just now finished calling Mr. Dodge’s office in Helena,” the manager added.

  Back at Ben’s cabin, the boys found a hearty breakfast awaiting them. As they ate, Frank and Joe reported the theft of the two horses and discussed their theories with the men.