The Mystery Of Cabin Island Part 4

"Hanleigh is sure paying us a lot," Ike was saying. "I'd like to find out what for."

"Who cares, as long as we get our money?" Tad responded lazily.

"Look - figure it out. All we're doing is giving him a boat ride now and then."

"So maybe Hanleigh likes our company."

Ike was evidently becoming impatient with his partner's indifference. "If he likes us so much, why does he make us freeze in this boathouse while he's inside the cabin? I'd like to sneak up there and see what cooks."

"You worry too much, pal," Tad drawled. "We bring him here, we get our money. It's simple."

"Well, stop being simple and maybe we'll learn what's so valuable that Hanleigh's after!" Nash exploded.

"We can cash in even more on this deal if we play it right!"

Now his buddy sounded annoyed. "To me, play it right means follow Hanleigh's orders. Trip up the Hardys, stay in the boathouse, don't ask questions."

"You'll do what I say," Ike threatened harshly, "-or else!"

"Okay, cool off," was the quick reply. "Have it your way."

The Hardys and their pals were excited. So Tad Carson and Ike Nash were working for Hanleigh. That was why they had slashed the Seagull's sails Frank beckoned the others away from the boathouse. When the four were out of earshot of the troublemakers, he urged, "We'll deal with those two later. Let's go up to the cabin and see what Hanleigh's doing!"

"Right!" Biff declared fiercely. "And if that guy gives us trouble, just let me handle him!"

"Easy, Biff," Frank cautioned. "We'll never learn anything if we tangle with him."

Quietly the boys climbed the tree-covered slope. At the edge of the woods they stopped and peered at the cabin. Stealthily the quartet moved to a window and looked into the long living-room at the front of the building.

Hanleigh stood with his back to the boys, facing a huge stone fireplace. He held a measuring tape and was apparently determining the dimensions of various sections of the stone chimney. Frequently he paused to write in a small notebook.

The big man began to pace back and forth, then stood still. By the motions of his right forefinger, the watchers could tell that he was counting the stones in the height and width of the fireplace, mantel, and chimney. Finally he got down on hands and knees and explored the interior of the fireplace.

Once Hanleigh shook his head as if baffled. The boys were so intrigued, they unconsciously crowded closer to the window until their faces were pressed against the pane.

Suddenly a gust of wind blew open the door of the cabin, which Hanleigh evidently had left ajar. Startled, the man leaped to his feet and whirled around. He glanced towards the door, then gave a shout of consternation, glimpsing the boys a second before they ducked out of view.

Hanleigh strode across the room and rushed outside.

"Hold your ground!" Frank advised his companions. "Don't let him bluff us. He shouldn't be here."

The intruder was red with wrath as he confronted the boys. "Can't you pests mind your own business?"

he snarled. "I told you to stay off this island!"

"So you did," Frank returned coolly.

"Then what are you doing here?" roared Hanleigh. "You're a bunch of meddlers! Now, get out! And if I catch you again, I'll-"

"You'll do nothing, Mr Hanleigh," Joe interrupted. "You have no right to be on this island, but we have."

"Prove that!" Hanleigh scoffed.

Joe took the key to the cabin from his pocket and said, "Mr Jefferson gave this to us. Do you have a key, too? Or did you break in?"

"Young punks!" the man snarled.

Quickly Joe examined the front door and saw that it had not been forced. "My guess is that Mr Hanleigh has a skeleton key," he said. "The lock is a simple one."

The intruder flushed but said nothing.

"Suppose you tell us what's so interesting about Cabin Island, Mr Hanleigh," Frank suggested. "And what's special about the fireplace?"

Hanleigh licked his lips nervously. "Jefferson collects antiques. Maybe I collect fireplaces, that's all. I made him a good offer for this place. He's a fool to turn it down."

"Well, stay off this property!" Joe snapped. "Mr Jefferson instructed us to order you to leave if we found you here."

Hanleigh clenched his fists and glared at the boys. "Think you're pretty smart! Well, you fellows are going to be sorry! This spooky place is no picnic. You'll be glad to clear out!"

Before the boys could retort, the man turned on his heel and strode down the hill towards the boathouse.

The sleuths watched from outside the cabin until they saw the Hawk glide out of the cove into the open bay with the trio aboard.

"We made short work of that crew!" Biff said cheerfully.

The Hardys did not comment, but inwardly felt certain they had not seen the last of Hanleigh.

"Short work nothing!" Chet exclaimed. "It's starting to get dark, and we still haven't had lunch! Come on, have a heart! I need supper."

"You won't be able to cat until we get our supplies unloaded and organized," Frank reminded him.

Joe grinned. "I'm starved, too. Let's get the stuff."

Everyone set to work with a will and plodded back and forth between the Seagull and the cabin. Joe noticed that Chet was less talkative than usual. "Thinking about your meal?" he asked.

Chet shivered. "Not now. I'm thinking about Hanleigh's warning. What did he mean about 'this spooky place'?"

"Probably meant it's haunted," Biff said sombrely. "You wouldn't mind a couple of ghosts for company, would you, Chet?"

"Cut it out!" Chet quavered, glancing around into the deepening shadows.

"If there's a ghost here, I wish he'd show himself," Frank put in, chuckling. "We could use an extra hand.

But this should be the last load." He let the main sheet go completely, so the sail would be free to swing in the wind.

The four were halfway to the cabin, their arms filled with provisions, when suddenly Chet stopped short and gave a startled cry. The provisions he had been carrying fell to the ground.

"What's wrong?" Joe asked.

For a moment Chet could only point. Then he declared in a strange, hollow voice, "There! In the woods!

A ghost!"

CHAPTER VII.

Cry for help CHET stood rooted to the spot. He kept staring straight ahead. The other boys looked but could see no sign of the ghost.

Finally Joe said, "You sure talked yourself into that one, Chet."

"What do you mean?"

"Mr Hanleigh planted the idea in your mind and your old brain conjured up a ghost for you," Joe explained.

Chet looked scornful. "Is that so? Well, you're wrong, Joe Hardy. I saw a ghost."

Frank winked at his brother to stop his needling. To Chet he said, "Let's get to the cabin - and some food."

The trudge was continued without any further evidence of a ghost. When the boys reached the livingroom of the cabin, Joe lighted a large oil lamp that stood on the table, and a mellow glow spread over the room.

Chet declared he felt better, but added, "Honest, fellows! I did see this white thing - moving l-like a ghost! "

Frank spoke up. "Okay. Biff and I will go out and take a good look around while you and Joe put away our things and start supper."

"Fine idea!" Joe agreed. "I was thinking that we ought to appoint Chet cook, anyway. Then we'll never miss a meal!"

Chet brightened at once. "Kitchen, here I come!" he said with enthusiasm.

Frank and Biff rummaged among the gear for flashlights before leaving the cabin.

"This'll be a good chance to go over the island thoroughly," Frank remarked to his brother. "I still have a hunch that Johnny Jefferson may have come here."

"You could be right," Joe agreed. "If we're lucky, maybe you'll pick up a clue."

"Be on your guard," Chet cautioned as Frank and Biff started out the door.

"Don't worry, we'll keep our eyes open - especially for spooks!" Biff called back over his shoulder.

When the two boys had left, Joe went into the kitchen, opened the back door, and discovered the woodshed Mr Jefferson had mentioned. It was an enclosed lean-to and had a door that locked with an outside bolt.

Joe carried enough wood into the cabin to stoke both the living-room fireplace and the cooking-stove.

Soon the cabin began to warm up and Joe and Chet removed their heavy parkas.

Chet lighted the oil lamp which stood on the kitchen table and unpacked enough of the food for several meals. "I'll leave the rest in the boxes," he said, and set them on the bottom shelf in the cupboard.

Meanwhile, Frank and Biff had decided to separate in order to scout the w-hole area more quickly. Each was to search half the island, then meet the other boy at the boathouse.

"Watch out for white things!" Biff warned jokingly.

"You mean like s...o...b..a.l.l.s?" Frank returned with a grin. "Seriously, Chet may not have imagined that spook - so don't take any chances, Biff. If you spot anything suspicious, give a blast on that police whistle."

"Wilco!"

The two boys started off in different directions. Frank trudged through the crusted snow, playing his flashlight beam ahead of him among the pines and underbrush. The wind had picked up, its icy chill stinging his face to a raw numbness.

As Frank plodded on through the dusk, he stopped to listen as each new sound caught his ear. Once he was sure he had heard someone cough and hurried in its direction. n.o.body was in sight. But just then, an owl flew past, and Frank jumped back startled.

"I'm getting as jittery as Chet," Frank berated himself. He squared his shoulders and went on, beaming his light.

Half an hour later the two searchers met at the boathouse. "Any luck, Biff?"

"None, Frank. Cabin Island evidently has visitors only in the daytime. How about you?"

"I didn't find a clue, but I-" Frank stopped speaking as an object on the ground caught his attention. He bent over to pick it up.

"Wow!" said Biff. "A model of an ice-yacht."

"And expertly carved," Frank remarked, examining the intricately made model.

"Do you think Tad or Ike or Hanleigh lost this?" Biff asked. "Or could it belong to Mr Jefferson?"

Frank examined the little boat, then declared, "It probably belongs to some very recent visitor to the island. The wood doesn't look as though it has been exposed to the elements very long. In fact, it seems to be newly carved."

"Anyway, it's a beauty," Biff commented. "Why don't you take it along and put it on the cabin mantel?"

It was fully dark by the time Frank and Biff reached the cabin and reported that they had found no one on the island.

"Well, I'm willing to forget the ghost, now that we're about to eat," Chet called from the kitchen.

"How long before chow's ready?" Frank asked. "The wind has started to blow pretty hard. I'd like to take the Seagull around to the boathouse."

"You have time," Chet replied. "But hurry."

Frank showed Joe and Chet the ice-yacht model, then set it on the mantel before stepping outside and hurrying to the sh.o.r.e. Quickly he jumped into the ice-yacht and trimmed the sail. The instant the brake was released, the craft glided off like a phantom and in a short time Frank reached the boathouse. It was unlocked and empty. The boy stored the boat inside, then tramped back to the cabin.

There he found Joe and Biff staring at the ma.s.sive stone chimney. "We're trying to figure out what interested Hanleigh," Joe remarked.

"Beats me," Biff added.

Chet interrupted from the kitchen. "Chow time!" he called, and ushered his friends to the table on which stood bowls of steaming beef stew. There was plenty of creamy milk and a big basket of warm, crusty bread.

"Delicious!" exclaimed Biff after tasting the stew. "I'll bet that ghost was just hungry and hoping for an invitation!"