The Missing Chums Part 9

"We're getting nowhere," said Joe, disheartened.

Suddenly Frank's body tensed. "Sh! Listen! Hear that?"

"All I hear is the ocean."

"Someone is groaning!"

Still listening intently, Frank turned and looked all around him. The nearest building was a gray, windowless shack with a closed door. Abruptly he strode toward it, Joe behind him.

Reaching the handleless door, Frank gave a tentative push and it swung open. Warily he stepped inside and blinked for a moment in the darkness.

"Joe! Quick!"

A man lay huddled on a cot. His face and the blanket he clutched were smeared with dried blood, and he moaned and heaved for breath.

"The man's unconscious," said Frank as he took the limp wrist for a pulse. "Find water, Joe. Maybe there's some in the jug on the table."

Joe looked into the container. "We're in luck!" He soaked his handkerchief and bathed the injured man's face. As the blood and dirt came away, the boy gave a gasp of surprise.

Hank Sutton!

"He's badly hurt," Frank observed. "Cuts and bruises on the head, and shock. Might be fractures, too,"

"I'll call the police ambulance," Joe volunteered. "We pa.s.sed a house about a mile down the road. They must have a phone."

"Hurry!" Frank urged. "I'll stay here."

Joe sprinted for his motorcycle. While he was gone, Frank searched the dim hut for clues to an a.s.sailant, but found nothing.

Soon an ambulance, its red lights blinking, was speeding toward Shantytown. A police car followed.

When they pa.s.sed the house where Joe had telephoned, he zoomed after them.

At Shantytown he led an intern and two stretcher-bearers across the sand to the hut where Frank waited with the injured Sutton.

"How is he?" asked the doctor quickly on entering. "Is he conscious yet?"

"No, he's delirious," Frank said. "He keeps mumbling something over and over-a man's name."

"Whose?" asked Joe eagerly. He had appeared in the doorway, with Chief Collig behind him.

Frank looked up at them with a frown. "Alf Lundborg's, I'm afraid."

"So he took his revenge on Sutton," the chief concluded. "That's bad."

The intern hustled everyone out of the way. Expertly the injured man was transferred to the stretcher and borne across the sand to the waiting ambulance.

Chief Collig and the boys trailed along. "We'll have to pick up Alf," the chief remarked. "He had the perfect motive for a.s.saulting Sutton."

"Just the same I don't believe he did it," Joe declared stoutly.

"Sorry, fellows," the chief said regretfully as they reached the road, "but regardless of the suspicions against Sutton, I have no choice."

Frank and Joe walked sadly back to the pine grove, mounted their motorcycles, and rode home. They ate lunch quietly, puzzling over the case.

"What now?" Joe asked glumly. "All we did this morning was to get Alf in trouble."

"Great detectives we are!" said Frank, disgusted. "How about walking downtown? I have another idea."

"About what?"

"The Fizzle soda. Since the person who had a bottle of it was in our boat-the bald fellow or someone else-he was in Bayport. Maybe he did buy some here."

The two set off and strode briskly along the sidewalk. At the first grocery store they turned in. "Do you carry Fizzle soda?" Frank asked.

"No, I don't."

The young detectives went into all the drugstores, markets, and lunch counters along their way. Always they asked the same question, and received the same answer. n.o.body sold Fizzle soda.

At last they entered a downtown sweetshop which was a meeting place for many of their friends. "Hi!"

called Tony Prito from a booth where he was seated with Jerry Gilroy.

"h.e.l.lo, fellows," Frank greeted them. "We'll be over in a minute."

Meanwhile, he asked the soda clerk about Fizzle, but received a negative answer. "Only place I've ever seen it anywhere around these parts is Northport. I live near there."

Northport again!

Frank and Joe walked over to their friends.

"Any news of Chet and Biff?" Tony asked.

"Nothing but a postcard," Frank answered.

"What do you think really happened to them?" Jerry asked worriedly. "Did they go off on a mission of their own? Or were they kidnaped?"

"We don't know," Frank confessed. "But there haven't been any ransom notes."

"It's dull around here without the fellows." Tony sighed. "We were going on a nice camping trip."

"Chet and Biff told us about it," said Joe. "Frank and I have an idea maybe they're being hidden on one of the coast islands."

"Could be," Tony said. "I remember Biff mentioned Hermit Island-the one owned by a queer old recluse who lives on it."

"He mentioned that to us, too," Joe recalled. "I wonder if that old man has seen any sign of Chet and Biff?"

"Say!" Tony's face suddenly lighted up. "Why don't we get your boat and go out for a look at Hermit Island? It's early enough yet. How about it?"

"Good idea!" Jerry exclaimed. "Right!" Frank said enthusiastically. Joe was already on his feet. "Come on! Let's go!" To Frank he said, "The mystery of Mr. French's mix-up last night can wait."

Jerry and Tony paid for their ice cream, and the four hurried out to Jerry's car. A short drive brought them to the Hardy boathouse.

"Let's take both our boats," Tony proposed. "We might need them-if we find Chet and Biff." They piled into the Sleuth and Frank steered the craft down to the dock where Tony kept the Napoli. Just as the two boats were ready to cast off, Callie Shaw and Iola Morton walked out onto Tony's dock.

"Oh, are you boys going for a ride?" Callie asked. "May we come along?"

"Gosh, Callie," Frank said doubtfully, "this isn't exactly a pleasure cruise. We're bound for Hermit Island to look for Chet and Biff."

"Oh, then you have to take us," pleaded Iola. "After all, Chet's my brother." Her eyes filled with tears.

"Please, Frank."

"Iola's right," Joe agreed. "The girls want to find Chet and Biff as much as we do."

"Okay," said Frank. "Pile in, then!" Iola cheered up at once and the Hardys helped the girls into the stern of the Sleuth.

The boats moved swiftly out the harbor, with Frank leading the way in the slightly faster Sleuth. Before long, the sh.o.r.e islands came into sight, with their white, drifted sand, scrubby vegetation, and huge, barren rocks.

Hermit Island, a big craggy pile, loomed out of the water higher than all the others. It was attractive but wild looking.

"Too rough on this side to land," Frank called over to the Napoli. "Good beach on the lee sh.o.r.e, though, I believe. Follow me!"

The search party rounded the island. After the girls had stepped onto firm sand, the four boys tied their mooring ropes to trees at the edge of the beach. All went ash.o.r.e and gazed at the lonely spot.

"This is a spooky place," commented Iola, looking around her uneasily.

"It does give one the creeps," Callie agreed.

The boys laughed but felt they should proceed carefully. With Frank and Joe in the lead, they set off on a faint path that wound along the sh.o.r.e at the base of the steep, rocky hill which formed the heart of the island. Above the searchers loomed jagged cliffs, cut here and there by deep ravines, thick with pines and coa.r.s.e gra.s.s.

At times Joe cupped his hands and shouted, "Hallooo . . . Bi-iff . . . Che-e-t!"

There was no answer. "Looks hopeless," Joe commented.

At last the path began to rise steeply. The four boys moved upward much faster than Iola and Callie.

Finally the girls dropped behind. The boys continued on, clambering and puffing, forgetful of everything but the tough terrain they were fighting.

Suddenly a sharp scream rang out from below. "Callie!" cried Frank, whirling.

CHAPTER XIII.

The Threatening Figure TUMBLING and sliding, the four boys rushed pell-mell down the steep path to Iola and Callie. The girls clung together in fright.

"What is it, Callie?" cried Frank.

Speechless, the girl pointed upward. From the top of the bluff a wild-looking old man with a long, dirty white beard was pointing a shotgun at them.

His clothes were torn, and he wore a battered felt hat. The weird figure stood motionless, silhouetted against the blue sky. The afternoon sunlight gleamed on the barrels of his weapon.

"He must be the hermit," muttered Joe.

"Git off my island!" came the strong, deep voice of the old man. The shotgun jerked threateningly. "Git, I say!"

"We'd better do as he says," Frank advised.

He took Callie's arm. Joe grabbed Iola's. The six young people scooted for the beach.

As they followed the path, the Hardys and their friends could see the strange man darting from rock to rock along the top of the bluff above them. He did not let them out of his sight. When they reached the boats, Frank and Joe quickly helped the girls safely aboard the Sleuth.

Joe took the wheel while Frank cast off. The Sleuth and the Napoli were run just out of shotgun range, then throttled down while their pa.s.sengers took another look at their adversary. The old man stood in the same threatening att.i.tude on the hilltop.

"You know," Frank noted, "for an old fellow he has a powerful voice."

"He's plenty spry, too," Joe added. "Did you see how he jumped across those rocks? He's nimble as a goat!"

"And did you notice his shotgun?" Frank asked. "It was very well cared for; not like his beard and clothes!"

"There was no nonsense about that gun," Joe agreed. "I'd like to know what the man's trying to keep us away from!"

"Maybe he just wants to be left alone," Callie suggested.

"After all, he is a hermit," added Iola.

"Whatever he is," declared Joe, "I'd like to get a closer look at him sometime."

Joe put on power and the Sleuth shot forward over the water. The Napoli trailed close behind.

As the island dropped astern, Frank remarked, "I can still make out the hermit. He's standing motionless on that hilltop."

The two speedboats crossed the wide expanse of Bayport harbor and came to rest at Tony's dock.

"Say, you fellows don't have any transportation down here," Jerry recalled. "Shall I pick you up at your boathouse?"

"No, thanks," Frank replied. "Joe and I came out to do some sleuthing. We'll walk. We have a few stops to make."

"Okay, we'll give Iola and Callie a lift, then." They helped the girls ash.o.r.e and Frank and Joe waved good-by.

After locking the Sleuth in her berth, Frank and Joe walked to the center of town. "Let's stop at headquarters," Frank suggested as they approached the familiar stone building. "Maybe there's some new word on Sutton."

The boys found Chief Collig in conference with Lieutenant Daley.