The Tower Treasure

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Can you tell us any particular characteristics he had?” Frank questioned.

  Jake scratched his head above his visor. Finally he said, “The thing I remember most about Jackley is that he was a regular monkey. He was nimble as could be, racin’ up and down freight-car lad. ders.”

  At that moment they heard a train whistle and the man said hurriedly, “Got to leave you now, boys. Come back some other time when I ain’t so busy. Got to meet this train.”

  The Hardys left him and Frank suggested, “Let’s eat our lunch and then come back.”

  They found a little grove of trees beside the railroad tracks and propped their motorcycles against a large tree.

  “I’m starved,” said Frank, seating himself under the tree and opening his box of lunch.

  “Boy, this is good!” Joe exclaimed a moment later as he bit hungrily into a thick roast beef sandwich.

  “If Jackley had only stayed with the railroad company,” Frank observed as he munched a deviled egg, “it would’ve been better for everyone.”

  “He sure caused a lot of trouble before he died,” Joe agreed.

  “And he’s caused a lot more since, the way things have gone. For the Robinsons, especially.”

  The boys gazed reflectively down the tracks, gleaming in the sun. The rails stretched far into the distance. Only a few hundred feet from the place where they were seated, the Hardys could see both water tanks: the dilapidated, weather-beaten wooden one, with some of the rungs missing from the ladder that led up its side, and the squat, metal tank, perched on spindly legs.

  Frank took a bite of his sandwich and chewed it thoughtfully. The sight of the two water towers had given him an idea, but at first it seemed to him too absurd for consideration. He was wondering whether or not he should mention it to his brother.

  Then he noticed that Joe, too, was gazing intently down the tracks at the tanks. Joe raised a cooky to his lips absently, attempted a bite, and missed the cooky altogether. Still he continued gazing fixedly in the same direction.

  Finally Joe turned and looked at his brother. Both knew that they were thinking the identical thing.

  “Two water towers,” Frank said in a low but excited tone.

  “An old one and a newer one,” Joe murmured.

  “And Jackley said—”

  “He hid the stuff in the old tower.”

  “He was a railroad man.”

  “Why not?” Joe shouted, springing to his feet. “Why couldn’t it have been this old water tower he meant? He used to work around here.”

  “After all, he didn’t say the old tower of Tower Mansion. He just said ‘old tower’!”

  “Frank, I believe we’ve stumbled on a terrific clue!” Joe said jubilantly. “It would be the natural thing for Jackley to come to his former haunts after the robbery!”

  “Right!” Frank agreed.

  “And when he discovered that Chet’s jalopy was gone, he probably thought that the police were hot on his trail, so he decided to hide the loot some place he knew—where no one else would suspect. The old water tower! This must be the place!”

  CHAPTER XIX

  Loot!

  LUNCH, motorcycles—everything else was forgotten ! With wild yells of excitement, Frank and Joe hurried down the embankment which flanked the right of way.

  But as they came to a fence that separated the tracks from the grass and weeds that grew along the side, they stopped short. Someone on the highway above was sounding a car horn. Looking up, they recognized the driver.

  Smuff!

  “Oh, good night!” Joe cried out.

  “The last person we want to see right now,” Frank said in disgust.

  “We’ll get rid of him in a hurry,” Joe determined.

  The boys turned around and climbed back up the embankment. By this time Oscar Smuff had stepped from his car and was walking down to meet the boys.

  “Well, I found you,” he said.

  “You mean you’ve been looking for us?” Frank asked in astonishment.

  The detective grinned. With an ingratiating air he explained to the boys that he had trailed them for miles. He had seen them leave home on their motorcycles, and almost caught up with them at the Bayport station, only to lose them. But the stationmaster had revealed the Hardys’ next destination, and the aspiring sleuth had hastened to talk to the flagman, Mike Halley.

  “He told me I’d find you here,” Smuff said, self-satisfaction evident in his tone.

  “But why do you want us?” Joe demanded.

  “I’ve come to make a proposition,” Smuff announced. “I’ve got a swell clue about Jackley and that loot he hid, but I need somebody to help me in the search. How about it, fellows? If old Smuff lets you in on his secret, will you help him?”

  Frank and Joe were astounded at this turn of events. Did the man really know something important? Or was he suddenly becoming clever and trying to trick the Hardys into divulging what they knew? One thing the brothers were sure of: they wanted nothing to do with Oscar Smuff until they had searched the old water tower.

  “Thanks for the compliment,” Frank said. He grinned. “Joe and I think we’re pretty good ourselves. We’re glad you do.”

  “Then you’ll work with me?” Smuff asked, his eyes lighting up in anticipation.

  “I didn’t say yes and I didn’t say no,” Frank countered. He glanced at Joe, who was standing in back of the detective. Joe shook his head vigorously. “Tell you what, Smuff,” Frank went on. “When Joe and I get back to Bayport, we’ll look you up. We came out here to have a picnic lunch and relax.”

  Smuff’s face fell. But he was not giving up so easily. “When I drove up, I saw you running like mad down the bank. Do you call that relaxing?”

  “Oh, when you sit around awhile eating, your legs feel kind of cramped,” Joe told him. “Anyway, we have to keep in practice for the Bayport High baseball team.”

  Smuff looked as if he did not know whether or not he was being kidded. But finally he said, “Okay, fellows. If you’ll get in touch with me the first of the week, I can promise you a big surprise. You’ve proved you can’t win the thousand-dollar reward alone, so we may as well each get a share of it. I’ve already admitted I need help to solve this mystery.”

  He turned and slowly ambled up the embankment to his car. The boys waved good-by to the detective and waited until he was far out of sight and they were sure he would not return. Then Frank and Joe hurried down to the tracks, vaulted the fence, and ran pell-mell toward the old water tower.

  “If only we have stumbled on the secret!” Frank said enthusiastically.

  “It’ll clear Mr. Robinson—”

  “We will earn the reward by ourselves—”

  “Best of all, Dad will be proud of us.”

  The old water tower reared forlornly alongside the tracks. At close quarters it seemed even more decrepit than from a distance. When the boys glanced at the ladder with its many rungs missing, they wondered if they would be able to ascend to the top on it.

  “If Jackley climbed this ladder we can too,” said Frank as he stopped, panting, at the bottom. “Let’s go!”

  He began to scramble up the rotted wood rungs. He had ascended only four of them when there came an alarming crack!

  “Careful!” Joe cried out from below.

  Frank clung to the rung above just as the one beneath him snapped under his weight. He drew himself up and cautiously put his foot on the next rung. This one was firmer and held his weight.

  “Hey!” Joe called up. “Don’t break all the rungs! I want to come up too!”

  Frank continued to climb the ladder as his brother began the ascent. When they came to any place where a rung had broken off, the boys were obliged to haul themselves up by main force. But finally Frank reached the top and waited until Joe was just beneath him.

  “There’s a trap door up here leading down into the tank,” Frank called.

  “Well, for Pete’s sake, be careful,” Joe warned. “We do
n’t want any more accidents with trap doors.”

  The boys climbed onto the roof of the tower, which swayed under their weight. Both fully realized their peril.

  “We can’t give up now!” said Frank, and scrambled over the surface of the roof until he reached the trap door. Joe followed. They unlatched and raised the door, then peered down into the recesses of the abandoned water tank. It was about seven feet in depth and twelve in diameter.

  Frank lowered himself through the opening, but clung to the rim until he was sure, from feeling around with his feet, that the floor would not break through. “It’s okay,” he told Joe, who followed his brother inside.

  Eagerly the boys peered about the dim interior. The place seemed to be partly filled with rubbish. There was a quantity of old lumber, miscellaneous bits of steel rails, battered tin pails, and crowbars, all piled in helter-skelter fashion. At first glance there was no sign of the Applegates’ stolen possessions.

  “The jewels and bonds must be here somewhere,” Joe declared. “But if Jackley did put the stuff here, he wouldn’t have left it right out in the open. It’s probably hidden under some of this junk.”

  Frank pulled out a flashlight and swung it around. In its glow Joe began to hunt frantically, casting aside the old pails and pieces of lumber.

  One entire half of the tower was searched without result. Frank turned the flashlight to the far side and noted that a number of boards had been piled up in a rather orderly crisscrossed manner.

  “Joe,” said Frank, “I’d say these boards hadn’t been thrown here accidentally. It sure looks as if somebody had placed them deliberately to hide something underneath.”

  “You’re right.”

  Like a terrier after a bone, Joe dived toward the pile. Hastily he pulled away the boards.

  Revealed in the neat little hiding place lay a bag. It was an ordinary gunny sack, but as Joe dragged it out he felt sure that the search for the Applegate property had come to an end.

  “This must be it!” he exulted.

  “The Tower treasure!” Frank smothered a whoop of joy.

  Joe carried the sack into the light beneath the trap door.

  “Hurry up! Open it!” Frank urged.

  With trembling fingers Joe began to untie the cord around the sack. There were many knots, and as Joe worked at them, Frank fidgeted nervously.

  “Let me try,” he said impatiently.

  At last, with both Hardys working on the stubborn knots, the cord was untied and the bag gaped open. Joe plunged one hand into it and withdrew an old-fashioned bracelet of precious stones.

  “Jewelry!”

  “How about the securities?”

  Again Joe groped into the sack. His fingers encountered a bulky packet. When he pulled it out, the boys exclaimed in unison:

  “The bonds!”

  The bundle of papers, held together by an elastic band, proved to be the securities. The first of the documents was a negotiable bond for one thousand dollars issued by the city of Bayport.

  “Mr. Applegate’s property!” Frank cried out triumphantly. “Joe, do you realize what this means? We’ve solved the mystery!”

  The brothers looked at each other almost unbelievingly, then each slapped the other on the back. “We did it! We did it!” Joe cried out jubilantly.

  Frank grinned. “And without old Smuff,” he said.

  “Now Mr. Robinson’s cleared for sure!” Joe exclaimed. “That’s the best part of solving this mystery.”

  “You’re right!”

  The boys rejoiced over their discovery for another full minute, then decided to hurry back to Bayport with the precious sack.

  “You go down first, Frank,” said Joe. “I’ll toss the sack to you and then come myself.”

  He picked up the bag and was about to hoist it to his shoulders when both boys heard a sound on the roof of the tower. They looked up to see an evil-looking, unshaven man peering down at them.

  “Halt!” he ordered.

  “Who are you?” Frank asked.

  “They call me Hobo Johnny,” the man replied. “This here is my quarters and anything in it belongs to me. You got no right in my room. You can’t take anything away. And t’anks for finding the wad. I never thought to look around.”

  Joe, taken aback a moment, now said, “You may sleep here, but this is railroad property. You don’t own what’s in this tower. Now go on down the ladder, so we can leave.”

  “So you’re going to fight, eh?” Hobo Johnny said in an ugly tone. “I’ll see about that!”

  Without warning the trap door was slammed shut and locked from the outside!

  CHAPTER XX

  The Escape

  “LET us out of here!” Frank shouted at Hobo Johnny.

  “You can’t get away with this!” Joe yelled.

  The man on the water tower roof gave a loud guffaw. “You think I ain’t got no brains. Well, I got enough to know when I’m well off. I ain’t in no hurry to collect that treasure you found in the tower. A few days from now will be all right for me to sell it.”

  “A few days from now?” Joe exclaimed, horrified. “By that time we’ll be suffocated or die of starvation.”

  Frank put an arm around his impulsive brother’s shoulder. In a low tone he said, “We won’t do either, Joe. I don’t think it’s going to be too hard to get out of here. If not by the trap door, we’ll hack our way out through one side of the tank.”

  Joe calmed down and both boys became silent. This seemed to worry Hobo Johnny, who called down, “What’re you guys up to?”

  No answer.

  “Okay. I’m leaving you now, but I’ll be back for that treasure. Don’t try any funny stuff or you’ll get hurt!”

  The man on the roof waited a few moments for an answer. Receiving none, he shuffled across the tower to the ladder.

  “I hope he doesn’t break all the rungs,” said Joe worriedly. “We won’t be able to get down.”

  Again Frank patted his brother on the shoulder. “I noticed an iron pipe running from the top of this tower to the bottom,” he said. “If necessary, we can slide down the pipe.”

  “How long do you think we should wait before trying to break out of here?” Joe asked.

  Before replying, Frank pondered the situation. Not knowing anything about Hobo Johnny’s habits, he wondered how far away from the tower the man would go. If not far, the boys might find him waiting below and a tough person to handle. Finally, Frank decided that since the tramp had said he would return in an hour, he must be planning to go some distance away, perhaps to get a couple of his hobo friends to come back and help him.

  “I’d say that if we leave in fifteen minutes we’ll be safe,” was Frank’s conclusion.

  Every second seemed like an hour, but finally when the fifteen minutes were up, the boys lifted a plank and tried to push up the trap door. It would not budge.

  “Where do we try next?” Joe questioned.

  Frank was examining the seams around the trap door with the flashlight. Presently he pointed out a section where the wood looked completely dried out.

  “It shouldn’t be too hard to ram a hole here, Joe. Then you can boost me up, so I can reach through and turn the handle on the lock.”

  Joe picked up a crowbar and jabbed the sharp end between the edge of the trap door and the board next to it. There was a splintering sound. He gave the tool another tremendous push. The seam widened. Now he and Frank together wedged the end of the crowbar up through the opening.

  In a few moments they had sprung the two boards far enough apart so that Frank, by standing on Joe’s shoulders, could reach his arm through the opening. He found the handle which locked the trap door and turned it. Joe pushed up the door with the plank.

  The boys were free!

  Frank pulled himself up through the opening and hurried to the edge of the roof. He looked all around below. Hobo Johnny was not in sight; in fact, there was no one to be seen anywhere.

  “Clear field ahead!” he
announced.

  Now the boys began to carry out their original intention of removing the stolen property from the old water tower. Frank went back to the trap door and Joe handed up the sack, then joined his brother on the roof. The older boy went down the ladder quickly and his brother tossed the treasure to him. Joe lost no time in following.

  “We’d better get away from here in a hurry!” Frank advised, and both boys sprinted to their motorcycles.

  “Let’s divide this stuff. It’ll be easier to carry,” Frank suggested.

  He opened the sack and handed Joe the bundle of securities, which the boy jammed into his pocket. Frank stuffed the sack containing the jewelry into his own side pocket. Then they hopped onto their motorcycles, stepped on the starters, and roared down the road toward Bayport. It was not until they were several miles from the old water tower that the Hardys relaxed. Grins spread over their faces.

  “I don’t know who’s going to be the most surprised—Hurd or Adelia Applegate, or Chief Collig or—”

  “I have another guess—Dad!” said Frank.

  “I guess you’re right,” Joe agreed. “And the most disappointed person is going to be one Oscar Smuff!”

  “What clue do you suppose he wanted us to follow?”

  “It’s my idea he didn’t have any. He just wanted to hook on to us and then claim the glory if we found the treasure, so Collig would give him a job on the force.”

  “Where do you think we ought to take these valuables?” Joe asked presently.

  The boys discussed this as they covered nearly a mile of ground and finally came to the conclusion that since Hurd Applegate had given their father the job of finding the stolen property, the detective should be the one to return it to the owners.

  Half an hour later the brothers pulled into the Hardy driveway and soon were overwhelming their parents with the good news.

  “It’s wonderfull Simply wonderful!” Mrs. Hardy cried out, hugging each of her sons.

  Their father’s face wore a broad grin. “I’m certainly proud of you,” he said, and slapped Frank and Joe on the back. “You boys shall have the honor of making the announcement to the Applegates.”