The Secret Of The Lost Tunnel Part 9

"General Smith should see it," Joe declared. "Besides, someone may get hold of the secret if we put the paper back in the canteen."

It was decided to borrow the message for a while. Frank tucked it into his wallet, and made for the door. As the boys left, the guard called after them in a gravelly voice: "Remind yourselves not to come back!"

[The boys paid no attention. After waiting a moment for Chet to snap a picture of the historical building in which the important clue had been found, Frank drove toward Centerville. Stopping in front of a service station, he asked for gasoline, and requested directions to Pleasanton's Bridge.

"Pleasanton's Bridge? Never heard of it," replied the attendant.

"It's in the vicinity of Rocky Run," Frank said, "or at least it ought to be."

"I've lived here a long time," said the man as he wiped the windshield, "but I sure never heard of Pleasanton's Bridge."

"More bad luck," Joe said as they drove off. "Now that we've found a good clue, we can't locate the bridge."

The boys' next call was at Centerville's one-room library. Frank asked the pleasant, gray-haired librarian for a book on local Civil War history. It happened to be a pet subject of hers, and she hurried to find the material.

"Here," she said, smiling and holding out three volumes, "is the complete history of all the fighting around the area. This one's a detailed account of the Battle of Rocky Run. My grandfather was in charge of the field kitchens."

"Oh, boy," Chet piped up, "that's the kind of job I'd like."

97 "Thanks very much," Frank said, taking the books. "Perhaps you can help us find what we're looking for."

When he told of their quest for Pleasanton's Bridge, the librarian took off her spectacles and frowned in deep thought.

"A Captain Pleasanton was in the Battle of Rocky Run," she said. "But I've never heard of a bridge by that name."

Sitting down with the boys, she helped them scan the books, in a vain search for the mysterious bridge.

"I'm sorry," she said finally. "That's the first time I've ever been stumped on a question about the War Between the States."

Chet smiled wryly when the boys left the library. "Boy, if people think a needle in a haystack is hard to find, they should try to find a bridge! Sorry, fellows. Guess the mystery of the lost gold ends right here," he said, sighing. "But I've never known you two to give up before."

"And you won't now." Frank set his jaw and snapped his fingers. "I have it!"

"Have what?" Chet asked as he and Joe followed Frank at a brisk jog across the square.

Frank headed for the courthouse. Joe kept pace, but their stout friend lagged behind, his eye on a light lunch and candy store. Finally he arnbled in.

98 Frank and Joe went straight to the old man who *s1 registered deeds. He recognized Frank at once.

"Lookin" up more deeds?" he asked.

"No," Frank said with a smile. "I'm looking for a bridge. Pleasanton's Bridge."

Frank's pulse quickened at the man's sudden look of understanding. "Pleasanton's Bridge! Well, son, I hadn't heard mention of that in many a year, until just a little while ago."

"What do you mean?"

A sinking feeling weighted the Hardys doAvn as they awaited the reply; the kind of sensation that creeps over a person who knows he is going to hear bad news.

"You're the second fellow to ask me that question in less than an hour," the man said.

"You all playing a game?"

Frank a.s.sured him they were not, and asked what the other inquirer looked like.

"He was a tall, dark man. Stranger to me. Didn't give his name."

"Did he have a mustache?" Joe asked excitedly, suspecting Professor Randolph at once.

"No. Clean-shaven."

The Hardys swallowed hard at this bad turn of events. Thinking they alone had discovered the message in the canteen, they now had to admit some99 one else seemingly had plucked the same clue out of thin air. Was the stranger Dr.

Bush?

"Did you tell the man where the bridge is?" Frank asked.

His excitement could not be concealed. His informant took a deep puff on his pipe and blew a cloud of smoke into the air.

"Take it easy, son. Nothing to get excited about. The bridge is not there any more."

"It's gone?"

The old fellow chuckled. "Don't cross your bridges till you get to 'em, son, specially one that was destroyed in the Civil War." Then he added with a twinkle, "What's so important about Pleas-anton's Bridge?"

"Why-uh, it sounded kind of important in something I was reading," Frank stammered.

"What happened to the bridge?" Joe asked.

The old man ran his thumbs up and down his suspenders and leaned back in his chair.

Then, with measured words, he told how Pleasanton's Bridge was the military name given a stone and timber span over Rocky Run. It was so named because Captain Pleasanton had been a.s.signed to defend it. A furious battle raged on either side of the span, and when Pleasanton found his position to be untenable, he destroyed the bridge.

100 "Then there's nothing left of it?" Joe asked.

"Wouldn't say that. The old abutments are still standing," the man replied, drawing the flame of a match into the bowl of his corncob pipe. "I'll tell you all how to find it. Go south on the county road two miles and turn right till you come to the new bridge over Rocky Run.

Pleasanton's Bridge is 'bout half a mile downstream."

The boys thanked the old man and hurried out. As they got into their car, Chet arrived with a large bag of sandwiches and three bottles of milk.

"Guess this'll hold us till lunchtime," he smirked.

"More'n that," Frank said. "Hop in. We're bound for Pleasanton's Bridge."

"You found out where it is?" Chet asked incredulously. Then he pointed to a poster on a telegraph pole at the curb. "Civil War Rifle Shoot on the twenty-third," the boy read. "That's tomorrow, fellows. I'd like to see it."

"Sounds good," Joe agreed.

Frank was so engrossed in the immediate problem of racing to the old bridge ahead of the mysterious stranger that he barely heard his friend's comment. Following directions, he drove down the highway, turned off where the man had told him, and stopped at the new bridge.

"Say, this is the bridge where the guy in the black 101 sedan stopped to look at us," Chet remarked. "Hope he isn't around here now."

"We'll keep our eyes open," Frank replied.

It was necessary for the boys to walk from this spot to the site of Pleasanton's Bridge, because Rocky Run left the road and meandered through the fields and woods, with only the faintest trace of a long-forgotten trail beside it. Frank drove the car behind a clump of trees, then the boys started out, Ivgging the lunch.

"This stream must be on the Beauregard Smith plantation," Joe remarked as they went along. "You know, I have a hunch something big is going to break soon in this case."

Frank was thinking of the more immediate present. Since there had been no evidence of another car in the vicinity, he hoped they would beat the mysterious stranger to the spot where the bandoleer once had been hidden.

Warily the three boys pushed downstream, searching for any sign of an old bridge.

There was none. But suddenly at the base of a little rise they came upon a pile of rotted logs.

"An old cabin," Chet said. "Maybe Pleasanton's Bridge was a toll bridge, and the bridge tender lived here."

The boys walked around the perimeter of the 102 ruins. Frank pointed to broken bits of dishes and a crushed kettle half concealed under one of the logs.

"Guess this is all that's left of the place, and I don't see a sign of a bridge."

Suddenly Joe gave a whoop. "Oh, boy! A rifle!"

Some twenty feet ahead lay an antique firing piece, its barrel glinting in the sun. Joe rushed toward it.

"Don't!" Frank's sharp warning stayed his brother's quick motion. "Don't touch that thingl"

CHAPTER XIII.

The Snare.

joe's hand was barely six inches from the rifle when he pulled it back.

"This may be a trap!" Frank warned.

"You're probably right," Joe admitted. "The gun's too shiny to have been here long."

"Exactly," Frank replied. Then he added, "Cot a piece of string?"

His younger brother searched his pockets to no avail. "I have an idea," Frank said.

He walked into the thicket and ripped a twining vine from an old stump. Tying several pieces together, Frank made a long string from the tendrils. Carefully and without touching the rifle, he tied one end to the stock.

Then Frank motioned Joe and Chet to stand off at some distance behind a tree. When all three boys were concealed, Frank tugged gently on the other end of the vine.

Into the air flew a shower of sparks!

"Good night!" Chet exclaimed. "The rifle's charged with electricity!"

"I thought there was something phony about it," Frank said grimly.

He tugged on the vine again. Another arc of sparks flew from the rifle, hissing and crackling.

"I-I think we'd better get out of here fast!" Chet said, moving back.

Suddenly the sparks stopped. Frank felt a gentle release on the rifle as if it had loosened from something. He pulled the weapon toward him.

"What do you suppose charged it?" Chet asked, wide-eyed, as the old gun finally lay at their feet.

"Must have been attached to a battery," Frank ventured as he picked up the rifle gingerly. "Let's look."

The boys cautiously examined the spot where the gun had lain. As they probed the gra.s.s with sticks, Joe pointed out a long wire.

"This was attached to the rifle!" he exclaimed. "Let's see where it goes!"

Knowing that the wire probably was still charged, the boys poked along its course with meticulous care.

105 "Somebody went to an awful lot of trouble to shock us," Joe remarked, as they followed the wire among the near-by trees.

Just beyond, the sight that greeted the boys made them shudder. On the other side of the trees was an electric power line. And looped over one of the cables was the wire they were following!

"Boy! What a close shave!" Joe exclaimed. "That rifle could have electrocuted us!"

"Our enemies apparently will stop at nothing," Frank said grimly. "That trap was laid with professional skill."

Standing far back from the wire, he knocked it from the overhead cable with a stick. It hit the ground, rendered harmless to any other person who might be pa.s.sing.

"This proves one thing to me," Frank declared. "Pleasanton's Bridge must be near here.

Come on, let's find it!"

But as if the forces of Nature as well as men were conspiring against the Hardys, a flash of lightning streaked the sky, followed by a deep roll of thunder. In half a minute it grew as dark as night. A moment later a torrent of rain whipped the woodland furiously, accompanied by a heavy wind which tore through the treetops. Rocky Run was almost obscured by the downpour.

106 The boys ducked under some low bushes, hoping the storm would subside. Instead, it grew worse. Lightning traced jagged patterns in the black sky and thunder rocked the ground.

"We'd better go back," diet shouted. "It's not . . ."

A blinding flash, coming simultaneously with a terrible ripping sound, interrupted the boy.

"Watch out!"

Joe pitched himself at Chet, bowling him out of the way of the splintered trunk of a tree a split second before it buried itself in the brush where the boy had been crouching. When Chet regained his wind, he said shakily: "Th-thanks, Joe. It's sure not safe here in a storm like this."