The Secret Of Skull Mountain Part 3

Joe peered past him. "Oh, that," he said airily. "That's an old friend of ours!"

33 "Sure," supported Frank. "In fact, that's our great ancestor, Chief Washeewapl."

"W-what?" Chet quavered.

Frank snapped on the ceiling light and Chet's lips tightened with disgust.

"You guys make me sick," he announced.

But it wasn't long before he regained his good humor, and together the three boys drove in the roadster to the Morton farm. Chet ran into the house to pack some clothes, but when he returned the Hardy boys saw that he carried far more food than camping duds.

"No telling how long we'll have to stay in camp," Chet explained.

Frank and Joe grinned but said nothing. Both knew Chet would regret his choice when he had to carry the heavy food packages up the steep mountain trail which led to the camp.

And the Hardy boys, with extra equipment to carry, could not help him.

Some time later they arrived on the mountaintop, Chet puffing and perspiring all the way, then made the comparatively easy descent down the slope to the camp.

Bob and d.i.c.k welcomed the boys warmly, and soon they all sat down in "Carpenter's Cottage" to a snack of milk and sandwiches.

In a corner of the shack, Frank saw a stack of white-painted shingles.

34 "Did you discover where the water is escaping from the reservoir?" he asked Bob eagerly.

The engineer's face clouded. "No," he said. "d.i.c.k and I rowed completely around the valley, dropping shingles in the water of the reservoir. Then we watched to see if any of the shingles floated in any particular direction-revealing a current which would show us where water was escaping. We didn't find a thing. Finally, we gave up and brought the shingles back here."

"It beats me," d.i.c.k said. "All we know so far is that the water rises during the day and sinks at night. The depth is never more than twenty feet."

"Couldn't be a leak in the dam, could there?" suggested Joe.

Bob shook his head. "We've been over every inch of it," he declared. The tall young engineer was silent for a moment. "There's only one possibility," he said slowly.

The Hardy boys, Chet and d.i.c.k looked at Bob with ill-concealed impatience. What other possibility could there be?

Bob gave a self-conscious laugh. "You may think I'm crazy for putting so much faith in this idea-but it's the only explanation left."

Bob thought for a minute. Then, as the others leaned forward with antic.i.p.ation, he described what was in his mind.

While an engineering student in college, Bob 35 said, he had made a careful study of the geology of the country around Bayport. In his reading, he had come across a geologist's speculation that during a glacial epoch the Tarnack River had been blocked by a moraine-a gigantic ma.s.s of sand, rock and other debris deposited by the glacier that once had covered that entire region.

According to the geologist's belief, the river had worn an outlet underground to the Atlantic Ocean. Then, later, the river had eaten a path through the moraine and had taken its present course.

"If the geologist's theory is true," Bob finished, "somewhere under Skull Mountain is a subterranean pa.s.sage to the sea!"

The boys stared at him, openmouthed.

"And you believe the water from the reservoir is escaping through the ancient outlet?"

Frank asked at last.

"Exactly," Bob nodded.

"Wow!" exclaimed Joe. "What a story!"

"But wouldn't the men who built the dam have discovered the tunnel when they diverted the river from the valley?" Frank persisted.

"If the tunnel started from the river bottom, yes," Bob admitted. "But if there is is such an such an outlet, it must start higher up-on one of the slopes."

"If we could only find it," d.i.c.k said, "our troubles would be over."

"//." Bob laughed. "That's the trouble with 36 theories! They're full of ifs!" ifs!" He yawned. "I don't know about you fellows-but I'm going to He yawned. "I don't know about you fellows-but I'm going to get some shut-eye!"

The boys agreed that it was time to turn in, and Frank and Joe went to help Chet pitch a pup tent next to theirs. Soon the boys were asleep. But once again their sleep was rudely interrupted.

This time, Chet's piercing shriek shattered the night!

CHAPTER V.

Sailor Hawkins.

As frank, and Joe ducked out of their tents and hurried toward Chet, they saw Bob and d.i.c.k running to join them.

Chet was kneeling at the opening to his tent, staring at something inside. He held a flashlight, but his hand shook so violently that Frank took the torch from him.

"Chet, what is it?" he asked anxiously.

Chet did not look at him. He lifted his arm slowly and pointed. "There-on my pillow!" he whispered.

The boys' eyes followed Chet's outstretched arm. Staring at them from Chet's cot was a human skull!

"The man of the mountain!" Joe breathed.

Frank nodded soberly. There didn't seem to be much doubt but that the mysterious creature who had rolled a skull down the mountain at them the evening before also had paid a visit to Chet in the past few hours!

Frank told Bob and d.i.c.k of his suspicion, and the engineers agreed.

"I woke up when I felt something cold against my cheek," Chet blubbered, "and there it was-resting right against my face!" He shivered. "Ugh!"

Joe, shining his flashlight about the interior of the small tent, suddenly asked, "Chet, what did you do with your clothes?"

"Clothes? Why, I put them right there-" Chet's jaw dropped as he looked at the canvas sack which had held his camping duds. "Holy smoke I" he yelped. "They're gone!"

He grabbed the sack and examined it carefully, but there wasn't an article of clothing left. Suddenly he stared at the soft earth beside the sack, and bent down for a closer look.

"Hey!" he cried. "Bring the light closer-quick!"

Frank flashed the torch on the spot at which Chet was staring fixedly.

Clearly visible on the ground was the print of a naked foot-with a missing toe!

"Joe, look!" Frank pointed excitedly. "The footprints we followed must have been made by the man we saw on the mountain!"

"Yes," Joe agreed grimly. "We've sure got a lot to settle with that guy! First, the boulder and the 39 skulls, then the explosion-and now, Chet's clothes!"

"Do you think he could be responsible for the smoke, too?" d.i.c.k asked.

"Could be," Frank a.s.sented. He looked out of the tent toward the shadowy mountain peak. "I'd give up a month of my vacation to know where he is right now!"

"Never mind, Frank," Joe a.s.sured him. "We'll take another crack at those footprints in the morn-ing!"

Early the next day, the boys again set out to trail the mysterious prints. Joe had supplied the unhappy Chet with shirt and pants which fit him like a sausage skin, and Frank had contributed socks and a pair of boots. Chet could get his feet into the boots, but they were too tight for walking, so he had remained at the camp.

Far below them, as they made their way along the mountain slope, the Hardy boys could see Bob and d.i.c.k. The two engineers were again circling the reservoir in their rowboat. But what they were doing the boys could not determine.

It was more difficult to follow the footprints now than it had been the previous day. The trail led in another direction, through stretches of mountain scrub and rocky shale, so that several times the boys almost lost the prints completely.

After a long, hot scramble they saw a cabin ahead -situated just below what one day would be the 40 water level of the reservoir. It looked very bare and small against the deforested hillside.

Smoke drifted lazily from an iron stack, but there were no other signs of life.

As they approached the cabin, Joe plucked at Frank's sleeve and pointed off to the left.

"Look!" he whispered.

Frank glanced in the direction Joe was pointing. The footprints led unmistakably to the edge of the forest, a few hundred feet beyond and above the cabin. But what aroused the boys' interest were several fresh-cut tree stumps. Someone had cut down quite a number of trees there recently.

For what, the boys wondered. Certainly not for the cabin's fireplace or stove. More green wood had been cut than would go up in smoke in a squatter's stove. Go up in smoke?

Both boys turned to look at the same moment toward the top of Skull Mountain. A thin column of gray smoke was curling up in the clear air!

"I think we'll have a talk with the owner of this cabin," Frank decided, pressing his lips together.

They walked quietly along the hillside to the cabin, then stopped short. From inside the dilapidated house they could hear a hoa.r.s.e voice singing the words to a rollicking sea chantey!

"Sailor Hawkins!" Joe said, grinning.

The boys winced as the voice went sour on a high note, then stepped onto the porch.

Immediately, a 41 parrot chained to a wooden stand screamed at them.

"Avast, ye lubbers!" The brightly plumed bird craned his neck at them curiously, then set up a furious squawking. "Man the topsail, me hearties! Lend a hand there-or I'll keelhaul ye!"

Frank and Joe laughed loudly.

The parrot flapped his wings noisily. "Keelhaul ye! Keelhaul ye! Keelhaul ye!" he screamed.

A short, squat man with a rolling gait ran out on the porch and lifted his hand threateningly to the parrot. "Pipe down, ye blighter. Or I'll give ye the back o' me hand!"

The bird subsided with several protesting squawks and the man turned to Frank and Joe.

"Now then, mateys," he said, hitching his trousers with a nautical gesture, "who are you?"

Remembering how Potato Annie had received the information that the boys had come from the engineers' camp, Frank decided not to mention the fact until he had to.

"I'm Frank Hardy," he told the man. "This is my brother, Joe. You're Sailor Hawkins, aren't you?"

"Captain Hawkins," the man corrected him with sudden dignity. "Least, I used to be-when I had me own square-rigger."

"Isn't this an odd place for a sailor to be?" Joe inquired.

"Aye, mate, it is that," Hawkins a.s.sured him. He 42 looked around and shook his head gloomily. "I never would've come here if me ship hadn't cracked up on a reef." He sighed heavily. "Split every timber of her!"

"Can't you go back to sea?" Frank asked.

Sailor Hawkins sighed again. "Ah, laddie, I wish I could! It'd be heaven to find a deck under me feet again! But I'm too old for them newfangled vessels!" He glared at them suddenly. "But I ain't too old to fight for me rights!"

"What do you mean?" asked Joe.

Hawkins jerked his thumb. "This cabin-that's what I mean!" he shouted. "I built her meself! Put every board an' nail in her!" He stepped off the porch and scooped up a handful of dirt. "An" the land's mine, too! I been here seven years, an' when ye been squattin' seven years-the land is your'n!"

He returned to the porch and stared at the boys suspiciously.

"Mark me, mateys," he said, stubbing a blunt forefinger against Frank's chest for emphasis, "if any o' them smart-alecky engineers try to run water over me property, I'll blow 'em higher than a mainmast!"

He grabbed up a rifle from the porch to show that he meant what he said.

The Hardy boys hastily a.s.sured Sailor Hawkins that they personally had no intention of destroying his property, and he appeared somewhat mollified.

43 However, he couldn't-or wouldn't-throw any more light on the mystifying events than had Potato Annie.

Like Annie, Hawkins had seen the smoke and heard the explosions, but he had no idea what they meant. Nor had he ever seen the s.h.a.ggy-haired man of the mountain.

"We noticed someone has cut down a great deal o timber above you there in the forest," Frank said pointedly.

Hawkins glared at him. "Aye," he said. "I cut it. A man can cut wood on his own property, can't he?"

"It's an awful lot of wood," Joe put in.

"Yes," Frank added. "And it could make a lot of smoke."

The short, squat man brought up his rifle and leveled it at them.