When the officer held it in place, Joe burst out, “Terrific! With a hat and raincoat on, no one will know you’re not Peter Baker-Jones!”
The group agreed to meet at the Hardys’ hotel later that afternoon. They would take the plane bound for England, but would get off at Calgary.
The boys and Mr. Hardy returned to their hotel. After a late lunch, they left for the airport with “Mr. Baker-Jones,” who was bundled up and walking slowly, the two boys supporting him. Joe carried a suitcase. When they boarded the plane, Mr. Hardy whispered to Frank, “I think our plan is working. I’m sure we’re being watched!”
The airliner took off for the United States on schedule, and when it dropped down at Calgary, the four alighted. The policeman went into the rest room, and when he rejoined the others, he was minus his disguise and carrying the suitcase.
The Hardys said good-by and thanked him as he rushed off to make the next flight back to Edmonton.
“We’ll go straight to Hay River,” Mr. Hardy told his sons. “There’s a flight by way of Saskatoon this afternoon.”
They had dinner on the plane and arrived at Hay River late that night. It was still light, since the Arctic summer sun was just setting.
“We’re logging more miles than a veteran airline pilot,” said Frank, yawning.
“We could use a good night’s sleep,” Mr. Hardy agreed. “We’ll hunt for Sam and the boys tomorrow.”
The next morning the three sleuths were up early. At breakfast, Joe said, “The Mounties probably can tell us where Sam and the fellows are hiding.”
“We’ll check with them,” his father said.
When they arrived at the RCMP station, the officer in charge told the famous detective and his sons the route to the hiding place of Radley and the three boys.
“They’re in an abandoned schoolhouse on the northern outskirts of town,” said the officer, spreading out a map on the desk. Pointing with a pencil, he continued, “If you follow this trail, you’ll come to a field. The schoolhouse is right beyond that.”
The Hardys thanked him and left the station, going by way of back streets to the edge of town. They made their way through the high grass of the field and came upon a ramshackle wooden school building. When they knocked, there was no answer until Mr. Hardy identified himself. Suddenly the door was pulled open and the trio stepped inside.
“Boy! Are we glad to see you back in one piece!” Chet grinned as they all shook hands.
“So far so good!” Joe laughed.
The Hardys’ friends listened closely while the detectives related the recent events in Edmonton.
“I thought that stone was a fake,” Sam said grimly.
“Have you found any clues to the gang’s hideout?” Joe asked him.
“Well, Chet might have,” Radley replied.
It was the Hardys’ turn to listen with keen interest as Chet told his story.
“Last night I sneaked out for food,” the chubby boy said, “and went to the restaurant nearest here. I bought some food at the back entrance and on my way past the side of the place, I overheard some men talking by an open window in the dining room. One mentioned something about ‘the stone.’ ”
Joe snapped his fingers. “Maybe the thieves hang out there!”
“I have an idea,” Frank said. “Joe, you and I will apply for jobs in the restaurant’s kitchen. If the thieves show up tonight, maybe we’ll be able to capture them.”
“I’ll make a dandy clean-up boy.” Joe grinned. “Frank, you can be dishwasher!”
“Thanks a lot!” Frank grimaced. “But anything in the line of duty! All right, let’s go apply!”
The two boys left, but returned to the schoolhouse an hour later with news that they had received part-time jobs and would start work that night.
“The restaurant isn’t open until evening,” Joe explained.
At the appointed time the brothers reported and got busy with their chores. At every opportunity they observed the patrons in the small dining room. Neither boy saw nor heard anything suspicious.
It was near midnight when Joe, mopping the floor by the half-open kitchen door, noticed two men come into the dining room. As they walked over to join several hard-looking men seated at a table, Joe heard one of the pair ask, “What’ll become of Kelly?”
Joe beckoned to his brother. Frank hurried over. The boys pressed against the wall near the door.
“Kelly’s biding his time,” the second man was saying. “We’ll meet him at the place now that the Hardys have gone back!”
Was it possible these men did not know Kelly was in jail?
“What place?” asked the man who had first spoken.
There was no answer, but the boys heard the ring of a coin hitting the tabletop. Joe peered around the corner.
Bang! A waiter balancing a tray loaded with dishes hit the door from the other side. The tray crashed to the floor.
The waiter, furious, pushed the door wide open. Joe, taken by surprise, saw that the group of tough-looking men in the dining room were staring at him.
Suddenly one jumped up. “It’s one of those Hardy kids!” he yelled. “Get him!”
CHAPTER XIII
Explosion!
“LET’S go!” Frank dashed for the back door. Joe dropped the mop and ran after him.
As their pursuers leaped toward the kitchen, the waiter turned to retrieve the tray, and collided with the first man. The two went down with a thud, landing on the floor among the broken dishes.
“Blast!” cried a burly fellow behind them, and pushed past the two into the kitchen.
The Hardys heard the commotion as they hurried outside and into a dark alleyway behind the building.
“This way,” Frank whispered, as he whirled to the left. Joe followed.
They ran around to the front and across the road, passing through the light streaming from the window of the restaurant. Suddenly they heard the door bang open and a harsh voice yell, “There they go!”
“After them!” came a raucous cry.
The boys jumped into a deep ditch on the other side of the road. As they darted along the narrow gully they could hear pounding footsteps behind them. A short distance ahead Frank saw a culvert just large enough for them to crawl into.
“In here,” he said, and jumped into the opening.
Joe leaped in after him, and the brothers crouched in the dark, damp space. They held their breath until all the pursuers had run past and continued on. In a few moments the sound of footsteps died away and the men’s voices faded into the distance.
“Let’s go!” Joe urged.
“Wait!” cautioned his brother. “More of the gang may be coming. We’ll crawl through and out the other end.”
The boys had just pulled themselves out of the culvert when they heard a yell from the spot where they had been hiding.
“Here’s a culvert!” came a man’s excited voice. “Search it!”
Then another voice came from the darkness. “You look there and I’ll check down the road.”
Tensely the boys waited for the man’s approach. “We’ll jump him,” Frank muttered.
A few seconds later they heard footsteps. Ready for the attack, the boys waited until the man was almost upon them, then leaped out.
Frank clamped a hand over the man’s mouth and Joe made a flying tackle around his knees, bringing him to the ground. The Hardys pin-ioned his arms tightly.
Joe whipped out his handkerchief and gagged the husky captive. Then the boys hauled him to his feet.
“Let’s get him to the Mounties,” Joe urged.
“Right,” Frank agreed.
The boys marched the prisoner through the deserted back streets to the RMCP station. When they entered the station, the officer at the desk looked up in surprise.
“We’re sure this man is one of the rune stone thieves,” Frank told him. “There were some other men after us. Sorry we couldn’t capture them.”
The desk officer hurried to call th
e inspector, who came over to the office immediately. He searched the prisoner carefully and pulled out a wallet.
“Hank Fogert! Is that your name?” the inspector asked the surly-looking man. There was no answer.
“He’s a United States citizen, boys,” the inspector said, “according to these papers!”
Frank was sure the man was one of those whom the Hardys had surprised at the campsite. He might know about the mysterious digging operations. Frank faced the prisoner and asked, “What were you and your pals digging for on the lake shore?”
Fogert looked startled, but would say nothing.
“Well, Fogert, we’ll give you time in a cell,” the officer said brusquely. “Then maybe you’ll feel like talking. The charges against you are attempted assault and battery and suspicion of larceny.”
The prisoner glared defiantly as he shuffled off with a guard. At the door he looked around at the Hardys. “Kelly will get even with you!” he snarled, then was led away.
“Kelly must be a pretty important guy in that gang,” Frank remarked. “Maybe he’s the top man.”
“He must be at least one of the lieutenants,” Joe surmised, as the brothers walked down the front steps of the police station.
They returned to the schoolhouse to find everyone wide awake waiting for them.
“Did anything happen at the restaurant?” Chet asked eagerly.
“Oh, nothing much,” Frank said, grinning at his brother.
“No, nothing much,” Joe said. “We just captured another one of the rune stone thieves!”
After excited exclamations from Mr. Hardy and their friends, Frank and Joe told about the chase and capture of Hank Fogert. When they had finished their account, Sam said, “Great work! We’re really whittling down that gang!”
“Yes, but we still haven’t found the real stone,” Frank remarked. “I vote that first thing in the morning we investigate the shore where the crooks were digging.”
It was decided to separate into two groups. Sam, with Frank, Biff, and Tony, would go to the digging site to learn, if possible, what the gang was up to. The others would remain at the schoolhouse hideout.
The seven crawled into their sleeping bags. They awoke at sunrise, and after eating a hearty breakfast, Sam and the three boys set out. They hurried to the cove where Sam had secreted his boat and climbed in.
The craft hugged the shore of Great Slave Lake, and presently Frank pointed ahead. “There’s the place we spotted the diggers.”
In a few minutes the boat was beached. The foursome found the rectangular excavation and examined it closely.
“What do you suppose those guys were hunting for?” Tony asked.
“The Viking treasure mentioned on the rune stone!” Frank frowned. “That is, if they’ve deciphered the symbols.”
“I wonder what the treasure is?” Biff mused.
“Let’s search in the hole,” Frank said, jumping down. “Maybe there’s a clue here!”
The others joined him and spread out along the narrow excavation.
Suddenly Tony called out, “Here’s something!” He bent down. “It’s a wire!”
Frank was standing near him. As Tony grabbed the wire and pulled, Frank yelled, “Look out!” and leaping aside, pulled Tony to the ground with him.
Bah-room! A huge cloud of dust and pebbles rose high into the air and the earth shuddered with an underground explosion. Frank and Tony, though shaken, were unhurt. As the dust cleared, they saw Sam and Biff some distance away, struggling to their feet.
“Wh-a-at happened?” Biff demanded, when he and Sam ran up.
“A booby trap!” Frank stated grimly, rising. “We’re lucky to be alive!”
Tony got to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes. “What caused the explosion?” he asked.
“Dynamite!” Sam replied tensely. “They’re really eager to get rid of us, so they came back and booby-trapped this spot knowing we’d investigate it.”
“That wire I pulled triggered off the blast!” Tony realized in horror. “Thanks to me, we could have been blown sky-high!”
“Maybe there’s a clue here!” Frank said
Just then Frank’s attention was attracted by a tattered piece of paper sticking out of the dirt. He picked it up.
“A mapl” said Frank, as the others gathered around to look. “It covers this whole area.”
“There’s Hay River,” Tony observed. “And there’s Fort Smith and the Wood Buffalo National Park.”
“Probably dropped by the thieves,” Sam surmised. “But nothing special is marked on it.”
“Wood Buffalo Park,” Frank repeated thoughtfully. “Of course! Wood Buffalo Park!”
“What do you mean?” Biff asked.
“When Joe and I were working in the restaurant, one of the gang asked where ‘the place’ was. The answer was the sound of a coin hitting the table.”
“So?” Tony looked mystified.
“Well, I’ve had a hunch it was a signal or code, and I’ve been trying to figure out exactly what kind. I think I have it.” Frank continued, “It could have been a nickel—an American buffalo nickel!”
“Bet you’re right!” Tony cried out excitedly. “The gang is hiding out in Wood Buffalo Park!”
“With the stolen rune stone!” Biff added.
Back at the schoolhouse, the four related their morning’s experience. Chet turned pale. “Dynamite!” he quavered. “Those guys must be getting desperate.”
Mr. Hardy said gravely, “We must round up the rest of them—and soon.”
Frank now told his theory about Buffalo National Park.
“Sounds logical,” said Mr. Hardy. “I believe it’s worth checking out!”
“How?” Joe asked.
“Maybe we can trick Fogert into divulging some information,” his father replied.
The detective and his sons went immediately to the RCMP station. When they arrived, the officer in charge agreed to let them question the prisoner.
“We got no response from him,” he said grimly. “Maybe you’ll have better luck. I’ll bring him in.”
As Hank Fogert was led in by the officer and a police guard, Frank greeted him casually. “The boss sends his best from Wood Buffalo Park,” he said.
Fogert stopped suddenly, obviously startled by the remark. “How—” he began, looking puzzled. Suddenly the expression on his face turned from one of surprise to fierce anger when he realized that he had been trapped.
“Why, you—” he snarled, and lunged toward Frank.
CHAPTER XIV
Buffalo Park Clue
“No, you don’t!” Mr. Hardy stepped quickly in front of the thug.
The detective fell back, however, as the burly prisoner threw his full weight against him. Mr. Hardy instantly regained his balance, but by this time the police guard had overpowered Fogert. Nevertheless, he kicked out viciously and struck the detective on his kneecap.
“Take Fogert to his cell!” Mr. Hardy said. “He has already told us what we wanted to know.”
Fogert jerked his head like a snake ready to strike, and staring at the Hardys with hatred gleaming in his eyes, he said sneeringly, “We’re not through yet—not by a long shot.” The guard led him off.
Joe turned to the inspector and asked, “Is anyone in the cell next to Fogert?”
“Just a petty thief. I doubt if he knows anything about Fogert, but you’re welcome to question him.”
“Thanks,” Mr. Hardy said. “We will.”
The detective and his sons followed the officer down a corridor to a small, dimly lighted room fronted by long steel bars. A wizened little man sat forlornly on a narrow cot. He looked up glumly when the detective addressed him. “Has the prisoner next door talked to you?”
“Nope,” the man answered. “The only time that Yank talks is in his sleep. Snores and talks all night long,” the man complained. “I haven’t had any shut-eye since he came.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Hardy said, turning abru
ptly and walking back down the hall. His sons followed quickly.
“What’s up?” Joe asked when they were back in the Mounties’ office.
“I think we’re going to listen in on Hank Fogert tonight,” Mr. Hardy replied. “He might say something interesting in his sleep.”
“Terrific idea, Dad!” Frank said enthusiastically.
The Hardys conferred with the Mountie inspector about the idea. The officer agreed, and it was decided to have tape-recording equipment and a microphone hidden in Fogert’s cell.
“Let’s hope the noisy ‘Yank’ tells us more in his sleep than he does when he’s awake,” Joe said as they started back to the schoolhouse.
“And that what he says will give us a solid clue,” Frank added, “either about the Viking stone or where the rest of the gang are.”
The Hardys’ friends were enthusiastic when they heard of the hidden-recorder setup and discussed this new angle in the case. After lunch Mr. Hardy looked around the group. With a chuckle he said:
“I think we deserve a little vacation from detecting work. How about trying some of the famous fishing in this area?”
Everyone cheered the suggestion, and spent the afternoon on the waters of Great Slave Lake. When the fishermen returned to the schoolhouse, Chet and Biff carried creels full of lake trout and grayling.
“This is the life,” Chet declared later, as he and the others ate a hearty supper of succulent fried fish.
“Enjoy it now.” Joe grinned. “Something tells me we won’t have much chance to fish from now on.”
Chet groaned in mock dismay. “Meaning—back to the mystery full time.”
“Tomorrow bright and early,” Frank assured him.
Immediately after breakfast the next morning, Mr. Hardy, Joe, and Frank hurried directly to the RCMP station. The officer greeted them and indicated a tape recorder on his desk. “All set for you to play back,” he said. “I cut out most of the silent parts.”
Frank started the machine, and the four bent over the tape, listening intently. There was a short interval of quiet—then a raspy muttering could be heard.
“Fogert!” Joe hissed excitedly.
Another silence, followed by some unintelligible phrases. The Hardys glanced at one another in disappointment—was their plan to prove a fruitless one?
The Viking Symbol Mystery Page 8