The Secret Of Skull Mountain Part 14

138 Frank hid a smile. "Guess I'll go down to the bay," he announced. "Joe and Biff may have picked u th?l stuff we planted in the reservoir. Coming, Ch^t?" he added.

"You bet," said Chet.

It was growing dark when the two boys arrived at the boat landing. The Sleuth Sleuth was not was not in her slip. They scanned the bay, but Joe and Biff were not in sight.

"Come on," Frank said. "We'll look for them in a rowboat."

Chet's face fell at the thought that he might be called upon to row, but Frank seized the oars of the borrowed boat, and Chet stepped into the skiff cheerfully.

Frank rowed the skiff slowly along the sh.o.r.e, the boys' eyes alert for floating objects that might prove to be the articles they had tossed into the reservoir.

Beyond a rocky point, they saw the Sleuth Sleuth anch.o.r.ed offsh.o.r.e, Joe and Biff sitting in the anch.o.r.ed offsh.o.r.e, Joe and Biff sitting in the c.o.c.kpit.

Frank rowed the skiff alongside, and the boys greeted one another.

"Any luck?" Frank asked his brother.

"Not yet," Joe replied. "I'm afraid the stuff came through during the storm last night and was washed out to sea."

"I hope not," Frank said, frowning. "We'd have to make the test all over again."

The Hardy boys swapped places, Frank taking over the wheel of the Sleuth Sleuth with Biff in the c.o.c.kpit beside him, Joe joining Chet in the with Biff in the c.o.c.kpit beside him, Joe joining Chet in the skiff. Then they hooked a towline from the speedboat to the skiff, and starting the Sleuth's Sleuth's motor, Frank guided the two boats as close to the rocky sh.o.r.e as he dared.

The speedboat poked cautiously into the numer-ous coves which bit into the sh.o.r.e line of the bay, the skiff trailing close behind. Hours later, there was still no sign of what they were looking for.

"Let's go back," Chet pleaded. "I'm starved!"

"We'll try one more cove," Frank said. "H there's no sign of the junk, we'll go home."

He steered the Sleuth Sleuth toward a rocky slit in the sh.o.r.e, then cut the motor. The two boats toward a rocky slit in the sh.o.r.e, then cut the motor. The two boats drifted into the cove with the tide.

Frank trained the speedboat's headlight on the steep sh.o.r.e, which was covered with boulders and clumps of bayberry. He swept the light slowly along the water line, the other youths trailing the beam with their flashlights.

The lights made a complete sweep around the cove, but the boys could see no evidence of any opening in the rocks, any stream, or any objects in the water.

Discouraged, Frank snapped off the headlight and swung the Sleuth Sleuth slowly back slowly back toward the mouth of the inlet.

Watching from the skiff, which followed in the wake of the speedboat, Joe suddenly thought he saw 140 a small white object b.u.mp against the Sleuth Sleuth and veer away. and veer away.

"Hold it!" he yelled.

Frank quickly cut the Sleuth's Sleuth's motor. motor.

Joe leaned over the bow of the skiff and shot the beam of his flashlight down at the water.

Bobbing and dancing in the waves stirred up by the speedboat was a white decoy duck-with the initials F F and and J J painted on its sides in red! painted on its sides in red!

CHAPTER XVI.

The Vanishing Sailor.

trank-it's the duck!"

"Looks as though there must be a tunnel after all, Joel"

The Hardy boys grinned across at each other, and in a moment all four youths-Frank, Joe, Chet and Biff-were shouting and thumping one another joyously.

Then they examined the decoy. It evidently had been knocked about quite a bit, for the paint was much the worse for wear. Greatly encouraged, the boys took their places in the two boats and circled the cove once more.

They searched every inch of its surface for the yellow pine and the barrel stave, but they found nothing more.

"They must have floated into a branch of the tunnel and got stuck," Joe said.

"Either that or they were washed out to sea," said 141.

142 Frank, looking out into the darkness of the bay0 Biff peered over the side of the speedboat.

"Must be a current down below," he observed. "Look how roily the water is here."

"Guess it's the fresh water flowing in from the reservoir-and stirring up the sand and mud particles on the bottom of the cove," Frank told him.

"Golly, I'd like to dive down there and see what's going on!" Joe exclaimed.

Frank laughed. "There'll be time enough for that tomorrow when it's daylightl" he a.s.sured his brother.

He pressed the Sleuth's Sleuth's starter b.u.t.ton, and the motor throbbed. Before he eased the starter b.u.t.ton, and the motor throbbed. Before he eased the two boats carefully out of the cove, Frank took a piece of white chalk from his pocket and inscribed a large X on a rock, well above the high-tide mark.

"That's so we won't have to hunt all over the bay for the right inlet to the cove," he explained with a grin. He gestured for Joe and Chet to join him and Biff in the speedboat, and they clambered into the c.o.c.kpit.

Then, with a roar of its motor, the speedboat headed for home, the empty skiff bouncing in the Sleuth's wake like an aquaplane.

Early the next day, Frank and Joe returned to the cove. Chet had resumed his watch on the plumbing shop, and Biff had business of his own.

As the boys prepared to dive into the water where they had found the duck floating the night before, they saw an object whirling toward the surface.

143 It was the red-and-white striped barrel stave!

Joe leaned over the gunwale of the anch.o.r.ed Sleuth Sleuth and seized the piece of wood and seized the piece of wood which had just emerged from its long journey underground.

"Guess that clinches it!" Frank told Joe. "If the outlet isn't down there, I'll eat mud!"

Donning their swimming shorts, the boys dived overboard together, and swam down toward the bottom of the cove.

The bottom was rock, covered with mud. But in the spot where the boys had dived, the mud particles were churning as if a tremendous force were pushing them up from the floor of the bay!

Frank pointed, and the boys swam closer to the churning mud.

A strong current, flowing from the bay floor, carried them upward. Both swimmers realized that they were being borne to the surface by a stream of fresh water, which was being forced through a tunnel and up through the sea by the pressure of a reservoir twenty miles awayl The boys hoisted themselves into the boat, breathing heavily from their exertions. Then they put on their clothes and headed the Sleuth Sleuth for home. Each knew the other was eager to for home. Each knew the other was eager to return to Skull Mountain and tell Bob and d.i.c.k about their discovery.

As the boys were crossing the boat landing on their way to the car, Frank suddenly clutched Joe by the arm.

"Do you see what I see?" he whispered, pulling 144 his brother down with him behind an empty barreL Walking along the dock was Sailor Hawkins!

The old seadog's back was toward the boys, but his short, squat figure and rolling gait were immediately familiar.

"What do you suppose he's doing in Bayport?" asked Joe.

Frank shook his head. "One of us had better follow him," he said. "He may be on some business for Sweeper."

"I'll do it," Joe told him. "You drive the car home and pick up the stuff we'll need for the camp. I'll phone you later and tell you where to meet me."

Frank went on toward the roadster, and Joe trailed Sailor Hawkins.

The old mariner seemed to be in no hurry, stopping to look curiously, but with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm, at the motor launches anch.o.r.ed offsh.o.r.e.

He walked on toward the warehouses, where crates of supplies and machine equipment were being hoisted aboard waiting freighters bound for European and Asiatic ports.

Joe followed, trying to appear casual. He kept his eyes on the sailor, at the same time sidestepping the shouting, sweating longsh.o.r.emen who were trundling barrels and crates onto the dock.

Hawkins seemed to have his eye on a schooner anch.o.r.ed off one of the piers. He stared at the tall 145 masts as the vessel rolled gently with the waves.

"Bet he's wishing he could sail on her," Joe told himself with a grin.

The arm of a boom swung out from a freighter over the loading platform and hooked a rope net laden with heavy boxes. The cable drew taut and the net was hauled swiftly into the air.

"Look out!" a longsh.o.r.eman yelled.

Joe's head snapped up at the warning. One of the rope strands had broken, and the hook had torn loose from the net. The heavy cargo was hurtling directly at his head!

Joe flung himself to one side and the boxes crashed to the dock-not six feet away!

There was a surge of excited voices as men looked down at him from the rail of the freighter and ran toward him along the wharf.

A longsh.o.r.eman helped the youth to his feet.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

Joe shook his head and brushed the dirt from his clothes. He looked at the spot where he had last seen Hawkins, but the sailor had disappeared.

Shaking off the solicitous dock hands, Joe made his way toward the row of supply houses, cheap restaurants and secondhand stores which lined the street opposite the wharf.

He looked through the windows of the stores, his eyes traveling swiftly over the occupants. Sailoi Hawkins was not among them.

146 Dejected, the boy entered a dingy drugstore and made his way toward the phone booths.

"Might as well call Frank and start for the camp," he decided gloomily.

The end booth was unoccupied, and Joe slid into it and closed the door. He was about to deposit a coin in the phone's slot when through the thin part.i.tion he heard a man speaking in the adjoining booth.

There was no mistaking the salty, nautical phrases. It was Sailor Hawkins!

Joe pressed his ear to the part.i.tion.

"Aye, matey," the seaman was saying, "I'll be waiting for ye at the warehouse. An' don't be late, ye blighter, or I'll keelhaul ye!"

He hung up and left the booth. Joe waited for a moment, then slipped out and followed him. This time he didn't mean to let Hawkins get away!

The old sailor went on down the street to the loading platform of a rambling warehouse.

A large, weather-beaten sign on the building read: JAMES HENNESSEY, INC. Shipments Overseas to All Parts of the World Shipments Overseas to All Parts of the World Joe studied it carefully, but the name meant nothing to him. He saw Hawkins enter the building, and he quickly but cautiously followed him.

The warehouse was stacked with crates, but there 147 were no longsh.o.r.emen in sight. Hawkins sat down and lit an old corncob pipe.

Slipping behind a large crate, Joe waited. A short time later, he heard curiously uneven footsteps approaching along the warehouse floor. From his hiding place, Joe could make out a small, furtive-looking man entering the warehouse-a man who walked with a limp!

Joe tingled with sudden excitement. During the search for the underground outlet, Chet had told of having seen a man with Sweeper whose description tallied with this stranger's.

"It looks as though Hawkins and Limpy are mixed up with Klenger, too," he said to himself.

The limping man went straight up to the sailor and they exchanged a few words. Then the small man took some bills from his wallet, counted them carefully and gave the money to Hawkins.

At that moment, a dock worker came trundling a hand truck through the warehouse door. He stared curiously at the two men, then pushed the truck toward the crate which concealed Joe.

"Oh, no!" Joe groaned. "Not this one!"

But straight for Joe's crate came the hand truck. The laborer tilted the crate and slid the shoe of the truck under it.

Joe glanced helplessly at the nearest place of concealment. It was the stack of crates beside which Hawkins and the limping stranger were standing 148 An instant later, the longsh.o.r.eman saw the boy.

"Hey!" he demanded. "What are you doing here?"

Hawkins and the stranger turned swiftly.

"So it's you!" the old sailor roared, taking a threatening step toward Joe. "You blasted little spy!"

The limping man grabbed his arm. "No, Hawkins!" he cried.

He whispered something rapidly in the seaman's ear. Then the two men separated-Hawkins running out the front door of the warehouse, while the man with the limp made for the rear exit.

Joe ran after Hawkins. The old seadog's short legs carried him with surprising speed, but Joe was more than a match for him as a sprinter.

He saw the sailor dodge into a doorway. Joe himself quickly ducked behind a truck.