The Missing Chums

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Of course!” Joe took him up eagerly. “That’s how the hermit happened to be waiting for us yesterday. Today is different. Don’t forget that boat we saw pulling away. Chet and Biff may have been put aboard!”

  “Right,” said Joe. “Let’s climb to the top of the hill and determine how far we can see.”

  Sparked by the new idea, the four boys attacked the steep hill at the center of the island. They worked their way among the rocks and pulled themselves upward by means of the short, tough brush.

  “What a rough climb!” Jerry gasped.

  As they climbed higher, the vegetation became too flimsy to use as support, and the hill’s cone became even steeper. Still the boys pressed upward, panting, with Frank in the lead. Finally he clambered onto a flat, wind-swept area at the top—about twenty feet across—and threw himself down to rest.

  Joe’s head popped into view over the edge, and then Jerry’s. Suddenly, from below them, came a sharp cry.

  “Tony!” yelled Joe and Jerry together.

  Sitting up, Frank saw a cloud of dust and stones tumbling and bouncing down the hill. A whole section of ground slid like a carpet along the steep slope, with Tony in the middle of it!

  Frank, Joe, and Jerry slid in pursuit, bracing their feet hard against the slope like skiers!

  Partly covered by loose earth, Tony Prito lay on his back where the hillside leveled off. He grinned up weakly at his three chums.

  “You okay, Tony?” Joe cried anxiously.

  “Think so. Can’t seem to get up, though.”

  “Where are you hurt?” Frank asked.

  “Ankle,” Tony answered, rising to one knee.

  Immediately a wince of pain crossed his face and he sank back again. Quickly Frank and Joe lifted their comrade to a standing position.

  “Try now, Tony,” Jerry urged. “Put just a little weight on it.”

  Though Tony’s left leg appeared sturdy enough, the right one buckled at any pressure.

  “It might be a fracture,” Frank said. “We’ll get you to a doctor, Tony.”

  While Jerry steadied the injured boy, Frank and Joe made a chair for him by interlocking their hands. Then they lifted Tony, who braced himself with one arm across each brother’s shoulder.

  Slowly the little procession made its way down to the level of the plateau. Moving more rapidly now, they followed the path around to the mainland side of the island.

  Once among the scrub oaks and pines, the trail became too narrow for three persons to move abreast. Frank and Joe had to kick their way through the brush on each side as they advanced.

  When they neared the beach at last, a small pine clump hindered Frank’s progress. He kicked out determinedly.

  “Hey, what’s that?” cried Tony from his perch.

  A dark garment, struck by Frank’s foot, flopped into the path!

  “A sailor’s pea jacket,” Jerry reported, stooping down. “And here are some more, under this pine brush.”

  “Pea jackets?” Frank exclaimed. “That’s what the bank robbers wore!”

  CHAPTER XVIII

  Hidden Watchers

  “THE bandits have been here!” Frank exclaimed. “Fellows, we’re on the right track after all!”

  “Wait till Chief Collig sees these pea jackets!” Joe exulted. “Pick ’em up, Jerry. Boy, what a bundle of clues!”

  Jerry gathered the five bulky, damp jackets in his arms and staggered forward. Almost immediately a low-hanging oak branch snagged one of the coats and pulled it from his grasp.

  “We’ll never get to the boats at this rate,” he despaired.

  Frank, however, was more interested at this moment in the number of jackets. “There were only four robbers,” he pointed out. “Who wore the fifth coat?”

  “The driver of the getaway car, probably,” Joe said. “Here, Jerry! We’ll put Tony down for a minute. Why don’t each of us put on a coat and you can carry the other one. That’ll make it easier.”

  Swiftly the boys donned the jackets. Now Jerry moved ahead without difficulty, and the Hardys followed with Tony as fast as they could.

  When they reached the top of the bluff that overlooked the cove where the boats lay hidden, the party paused for breath. Here was a fresh obstacle! Tony had to be lowered down the steep slope to the level of the beach!

  “We’ll slide him down,” Frank decided. “Joe, you stay just below Tony, and keep his injured ankle from striking anything. Jerry and I can make a sling of our belts and lower him from one level to another.”

  Slowly the injured boy was brought from foothold to foothold, down to the sand. When they reached the boats, Tony’s face was drawn and pale.

  “Gosh, Tony—did we bump you too much coming down?” Frank asked solicitously.

  “No, it’s not your fault, fellows,” their friend protested bravely. “My ankle’s just starting to throb a little.”

  “Swelling, too,” Frank noted with a frown. “Here, Joe, let’s get him into the Steuth. I’ll head it for the Coast Guard dock as fast as I can. You and Jerry follow in the Napoli.”

  In another moment the Sleuth’s powerful engine roared to life. Hastily stripping off the pea jacket, Frank bent over the wheel. Tony sat beside him, suffering in silence. The sleek craft sped across open water toward Bayport.

  Meanwhile, Joe and Jerry threw the other pea jackets into the Napoli. Starting her engine, Joe piloted the slower speedboat out of the cove and along the island shore.

  “Joe!” Jerry pointed to a boat coming around the island toward them.

  “Oh, boy, this is trouble!” Joe exclaimed. “Hang on!”

  He brought the wheel around hard. The Napoli swerved and ran in straight toward shore.

  Jerry gasped. “You’re running aground!”

  Joe did not answer. He had noticed a narrow fissure which cut through the bluffs, making a tiny V-shaped opening in the shoreline. He ran the Napoli straight into the small slot of water, crashing through low-growing brush at its edges.

  “Quick, Jerry,” he directed, shutting off the motor, “grab some of these pine branches and pull them down on top of us!”

  Clutching the sticky, sweet-smelling limbs, the boys crouched low and waited. Soon the slow, regular throb of a boat’s motor could be heard. The strange brown boat, carrying two men, came into view.

  The craft seemed to move with maddening slowness. Luckily the two men in it kept looking forward. From his place of concealment, Joe studied them carefully. The one in the stern was a short, muscular fellow, whose shock of white-blond hair gleamed in the sunshine.

  “Jerry,” Joe hissed, “I’ve seen those guys before! They were in Mr. French’s shop when we picked up our costumes!” He added in a whisper, “The blond one must be Fritz Stark. He looks just like Ben, except for the different-colored hair.”

  Jerry gripped Joe’s arm. “He’s standing up! He’ll see us!”

  But Fritz Stark pointed straight ahead of him and called out to the man at the wheel, “Nick, take her to the hidden inlet!”

  The boys crouched tensely, watching the two men cruise slowly past them. When at last the dark-brown craft was out of sight, the boys took in deep breaths of relief. But the result was disastrous to Jerry.

  “Kerchoo! Kerchoo!” The sounds echoed off the bluffs behind them and carried far over the water.

  “Oh, golly, I’m sorry,” Jerry whispered. “I’m allergic to pine.”

  “Sh! Keep down,” Joe warned. “Maybe they heard you, and maybe they didn’t.”

  With hearts pounding, the boys waited. The gentle put-putting sound of the motorboat grew louder and faster, rising in crescendo to an angry roar.

  “We’re in for it,” Joe groaned.

  In another moment the prow of the brown boat knifed back into view. This time the men aboard scanned the shoreline suspiciously!

  The boys clutched the pine branches in front of them. But it was no use. The Napoli’s hull was clearly visible to their pursuers.

  “There th
ey are!” Fritz Stark shouted. “In that boat!”

  As the bandits’ craft swerved sharply and ran straight up on the concealed boys, Joe whispered, “Run for it, Jerry!”

  The thick-growing brush, which had helped to conceal them, now became an obstacle to their flight. Seizing the pithy branches, Joe pulled and squirmed until he could feel solid ground. But when he jumped up and walked, the thick growth clawed at his legs.

  Thump! The robbers’ boat crashed into the Napoli. Then the brush began to shake as the men fought their way toward the boys. “Grab them!” Stark yelled.

  Jerry caught up to Joe and for an instant the boys hesitated. All around rose the gray, rocky bluffs. Just in front of them, however, was a narrow ravine which Joe had noticed earlier.

  “Come on! I think we can make it!” Joe urged.

  The boys scrambled madly uphill, their pursuers only yards behind! Hand over hand, they clambered upward. Once Jerry stumbled and Joe paused to help him regain his balance. The short, muscular Stark was now gaining rapidly.

  Joe uprooted a small prickly bush and fired it back. The bush hit Stark in the face. He cried out in anger, but kept staggering upward. In a moment he made a leap for Joe’s ankles!

  “I’ve got you!” he cried as the boy slid backward on his stomach.

  “Keep going, Jerry!” Joe shouted before turning to grapple with his antagonist.

  At the same time the second man skirted them both, and disappeared over the top of the ravine, pursuing Jerry.

  Though Joe fought savagely, Stark’s weight finally won out and soon the boy’s arms were pinned behind him and bound together with a belt.

  Then Jerry appeared at the top of the ravine, his arms held securely by Stark’s henchman. “Get down there!” his captor ordered roughly.

  While he and the boy descended, Stark eyed Joe with an unpleasant smile.

  “Hey, Nick,” the blond man called, “look who’s here!”

  The henchman grinned as he recognized Joe. “One of the real Hardy boys!”

  “What’ll we do with him and his friend?”

  “Load ‘em in the boat. We’ll take ’em to the cave.”

  “We haven’t much time,” Nick warned him.

  “Don’t worry,” Stark said in a hard voice. “We’re going to make quick work of ’em!”

  CHAPTER XIX

  Rocky Prison

  FEAR showed in Jerry’s eyes and his face paled. Joe stoically hid his emotions at Stark’s ominous threat. The same thought raced wildly through the boys’ minds. What would these men do to them?

  While the two men forced Joe and Jerry into the brown boat, Frank was sending the Sleuth full speed toward Bayport harbor. Looking behind him, he frowned, puzzled.

  “Where’s the Napoli, Tony?” he asked. “Can you see it?”

  Tony turned his head for a look. “No,” he answered.

  “They shouldn’t be so far behind us,” Frank said.

  From time to time he glanced back uneasily, and as they sped across the bay toward the Coast Guard station, he spoke up worriedly, “The Napoli isn’t that much slower than the Sleuth. Maybe the boat had motor trouble.”

  “Don’t think so,” Tony said, tight-lipped. “Just had her checked.”

  Frank throttled down his engine as the Sleuth slid in beside the pier. Making a line fast to a pile, he leaped onto the ladder and climbed up.

  “Take it easy, Tony. I’ll get help,” he said, and sprinted along the wharf to the Coast Guard headquarters.

  “I have a fellow in my boat with an injured ankle,” he told Lieutenant Parker breathlessly.

  A few moments later four Coast Guardmen, two with a stretcher between them, were running with Frank to the end of the pier. Expertly, the rescue team carried Tony up the ladder and laid him on the stretcher.

  “Okay, Tony?” Frank inquired.

  “Sure,” came the plucky reply. “You’d better forget me, Frank, and think about Joe and Jerry. Something must have happened to them!”

  “We must get Tony to a doctor,” Frank told Lieutenant Parker, as both hurried along beside the stretcher.

  “Our men will take him,” the young officer said. “We have an emergency vehicle ready at all times. But what was he talking about, Frank? Is something else wrong?”

  “I’ll tell you in a minute,” the boy replied. “We might need a cutter and some men soon. May I use your phone?”

  Frank went into the Coast Guard station and called police headquarters.

  “Chief Collig?” he began urgently. “This is Frank Hardy. I’m at the Coast Guard pier. Just got back from Hermit Island. We’ve found the jackets the bank robbers were wearing. I have two of them. Joe ought to be here with the others any minute.”

  “What!” Collig cried in amazement. “Stay there. I’ll be right down,” he said.

  After hanging up, Frank dashed out of the station and ran to the end of the pier again. Frowning, he scanned the waters of the bay. He could not see the Napoli, and he returned to the station.

  “Our men have taken Tony to a doctor,” Lieutenant Parker told him. “Have you found some new clue to the bank robbers or your missing chums, Frank? If there’s going to be trouble, we want to help.”

  Frank quickly gave details and ended with, “I’m worried about Joe and Jerry.”

  “What do you think happened to them?”

  “I don’t know. There was one member of the gang on the island when Tony and I left. Maybe more of them came back. The boys may have been trapped.”

  “I’ll order the cutter at once,” Lieutenant Parker said.

  “Thanks,” Frank replied. “If we don’t see the Napoli by the time Chief Collig gets here, we’d better move fast!”

  Nervously the boy paced about the pier with his eyes fixed on the harbor mouth. Still no Napoli. Frank heard a siren wail and a black police car sped up to the Coast Guard station.

  “Joe hasn’t come yet,” he told the chief. “I’m afraid something went wrong out at the island.”

  “Then we’d better get there fast!” Collig snapped.

  The powerful engines of a Coast Guard cutter were rumbling impatiently beside the pier. Frank, Chief Collig, and the two policemen he had brought along hurried aboard. Already a squad of seamen armed with rifles had taken their places. At a signal from Lieutenant Parker the cutter growled out into the bay.

  On Hermit Island the two robbers had hauled Joe and Jerry along the path toward the cave. When they reached the entrance, they noted that the radio inside was still playing.

  Stark’s face tightened with anger. “Hold them here with your gun, Nick,” he ordered, and disappeared into the cavern. The music stopped suddenly, and Stark came out a few moments later, pushing a heavy, bald-headed man, who blinked in the late-afternoon sunlight.

  “It’s the fellow we saw with Ben Stark in the Black Cat!” Joe thought.

  He also noted that the man was wearing the same clothing the fake hermit had had on the day before. But this man was clean shaven and in his thirties! “He must have been wearing a false beard yesterday,” Joe decided.

  Fritz Stark glowered at the bald man. “Listen, Pops,” he demanded, “how did these kids get on the island? You’re supposed to be keeping people away—not sleeping!”

  “Pops!” said Joe to himself. “This is the fellow Alf told us about who beat up Sutton!”

  The bald man answered Stark lamely. “I guess I was in the cave and didn’t hear them. I figured nobody would be nosing around during the storm.”

  “You fool!” Stark returned harshly. “These kids found three of our jackets—I saw them in their boat. What if they had made it to the police?”

  “Well, we’ve got ‘em now,” Pops said.

  “No thanks to you!” Nick put in angrily. “You’re no good for anything but drinking soda and getting into fights!”

  “Give him credit for buying postcards in Northport,” Stark said sarcastically.

  Pops bristled. “I did my share! We wo
uldn’t have stolen the crate of Yokohama radios so easy, if I hadn’t first made the deal with Sutton.”

  “We’d have been better off without that hot-head,” Nick declared.

  “He knew the docks,” Pops retorted. “Thanks to him we had inside help. If you guys hadn’t been so slow we could’ve taken more crates.”

  “Oh, he was helpful,” Stark sneered. “He wasn’t satisfied with our bank loot. He brought the Hardys and the police down on our necks by planting a stolen radio on that big stevedore and making the whole bunch hot.”

  “And fighting with you over his cut every night in Shantytown. Did that help?” Nick asked sourly.

  “You were all pretty careless,” Joe egged them on. “We heard that an envelope from the Yokohama radio distributors was found in the Starks’ hotel room.”

  Pops snorted in triumph. “You left that, Fritz!” he accused. “It was you who wrote pretending to be a purchasing agent to find out where their Super-X radio shipments came in.”

  “But Pops left his broken soda bottle in the Sleuth,” Joe prodded.

  “That’s enough!” the bald man ordered. Roughly he shoved the captives toward the gaping cavern.

  “Hold it!” Stark rasped. “First I have a bone to pick with this nosy kid.” Then he cuffed Joe on the ear and laughed wickedly.

  “What was that for?” Joe complained, trying to draw the man out more.

  “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?” Stark sneered and pushed Joe so hard that he fell to the ground.

  “Cut it out!” Jerry protested, and lunged forward to help his friend. Nick seized the boy and held him fast.

  Stark yanked Joe up by the shoulders and yelled at him, “You and your pesky brother—always interfering with our plans! I had things all worked out!”

  “I’ll bet you did,” Joe retorted. “Who stole the car in Northport?”

  “Nick did,” Stark replied, “while Ben and Pops took the Black Cat for a spin. Ben found out where your boat was kept, and later Pops took it.”