HUNTING FOR HIDDEN GOLD

Timber wolves, a Rocky Mountain blizzard, and a mine cave-in are only a few of the perils Frank and Joe Hardy encounter during their search for the principal members of a notorious gang responsible for a payroll robbery.

In the old Montana mining camp of Lucky Lode, the young detectives puzzle over a series of mysterious events. A piano-playing ghost haunts the long-abandoned dance hall. Eerie blue lights flash from the hilltop cemetery in the dark of night. Strange men arrange a meeting at Shadow of the Bear. A suspect disappears through a curtain of frozen ice.

How are these events related to the men who kidnapped the boys in Chicago? Who booby-trapped the helicopter which flew the young detectives to the ghost town? And what ever happened to Bart Dawson who seemingly deserted his gold-mining partners twenty-five years ago?

Clue by clue, Frank and Joe cleverly fit into place the scattered pieces of this dangerous puzzle and come up with the astonishing solution.

The wolf pack seemed to sense that its victims were trying to escape

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Copyright Â© 1991, 1963, 1956, 1928 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights

reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam &
Grosset Group, New York. Published simultaneously in Canada. .S.A.
THE HARDY BOYSÂ® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.

eISBN : 978-1-440-67319-1

2007 Printing

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CHAPTER I

Danger in the Fog

âSOMEBODYâS going to get hurt!â Frank Hardy exclaimed.

He and his four companions paused in the darkening woods and listened as rifleshots and loud laughter rang out from a nearby ridge.

âCareless hunters,â Frankâs brother Joe said grimly.

Joe was seventeen, tall and blond, and a year younger than Frank.

âLetâs go back to the cabin,â urged plump Chet Morton nervously. âIâm hungry, anyhow.â

Lanky Biff Hooper agreed. âWe can look for a campsite tomorrow.â

âUnless Frank and Joe are called away to solve a mystery,â Tony Prito needled.

Frank chuckled. âThereâs a chance we willââ

Smack! A bullet thudded into a tree an inch from Joeâs head!

For a moment there was stunned silence. Then Frank asked quickly, âJoe, are you all right?â

His brother gulped and looked at the gash in the bark. âIâm okay. But one inch closerââ

Biff Hooperâs handsome face flushed with anger. âIâm going after those fellows!â he declared.

As he spoke, three hunters came into view.

âHold it!â Frank hailed them. âYou men nearly killed my brother!â

âWhy donât you be careful?â Joe shouted.

âSorry, boys,â one of the men called back casually. He and his companions did not stop; instead, they moved on through the undergrowth.

âIs that all youâve got to say?â Chet bellowed.

âForget it, kid,â another of the hunters replied. âNobody got hurt.â

âStupid sportsmen!â growled Joe as the trio disappeared. He added to his companions, âYou fellows nearly lost one business partner.â

The five boys had pooled money to build their own cabin and were exploring the deep woods north of Bayport looking for a campsite.

To relieve the tension caused by the near accident, Tony Prito said jokingly, âWeâre used to the idea of losing you and Frank. Every time we start a project, you two get involved in a mystery.â

Frank and Joe were the sons of Fenton Hardy, the well-known detective. They had solved many mysteries on their own and sometimes cooperated with their father on his cases.

Biff grinned. âAmazing! Weâve been here one whole day, and you Hardys are still with us!â

Frank winked at Joe. âWe may have to leave,â he admitted. âDadâs on a case out West and weâre hoping weâll get a call to go and help him.â

The others groaned, then laughed. âIn fact,â Joe added, âwe might even find a clue right around here.â

âWhat!â chorused the Hardysâ pals.

âRemember when Frank and I inquired at the store about a man named Mike Onslow?â Joe went on, âDad asked us to keep an eye out for him. Onslow lives somewhere in these woods, and he may have some useful information that ties in with Dadâs case.â

âCome on,â said Chet. âLetâs eat and talk later.â

The boys pushed on through the growing darkness. Fog was beginning to rise by the time they reached the edge of the clearing where their rented cabin stood. As they crossed to the crude log house, rifleshots sounded in the distance.

Chet winced. âThose careless hunters are still at it,â he remarked.

The boys were about to enter the cabin when Joe exclaimed, âQuiet!â

They all halted, listening intently. âIt sounded like a cry,â Joe said.

The others had heard nothing, and finally went inside.

âHope nobody was shot by those fools,â Tony remarked, lighting the oil lamp.

Frank and Joe built a fire in the fireplace, while Chet started supper on a wood stove.

âThis is a bad place to get hurt,â Biff said.

The boys were ten miles from the nearest town, Clintville, and the only road was steep and rutted. They had borrowed Mr. Hardyâs car for the trip, but had left it in the Clintville Garage. George Haskins, owner of the townâs one hotel, had rented them the cabin, and his son Lenny had driven the boys to it in his jeep.

âIt wouldnât be easy to get help here,â Joe agreed.

âDinnerâs nearly ready,â Chet announced. âBring chairs to theââ He stopped short. From the clearing outside came the sound of running feet and then a frantic hammering on the door. Tony strode over and opened it. Lenny Haskins, a lanky boy, stood in the doorway, panting.

âWhatâs the matter?â Tony asked the youth.

âFrank and Joe Hardy have a long-distance call at the hotel,â the boy blurted, out of breath.

âFrom where?â Frank asked.

âDonât know,â Lenny said. âThereâs trouble on the line and all I could make out was that the person would call back in an hour or so.â

âMaybe itâs Dad!â Frank exclaimed.

âIâll bet youâre right,â Joe agreed. âWe told him he could reach us through Mr. Haskins.â

âYou fellows go ahead and eat,â said Frank. âJoe and I will return to the hotel with Lenny.â

With the Haskins boy leading the way, the Hardys hurried across the clearing and down a trail through the misty woods to the road. There they piled into the rattletrap jeep.

âHang on!â said Lenny, as they started a bone-shaking ride downhill.

Twenty minutes later the car reached Main Street in Clintville and came to a stop in front of Haskins Hotel. The telephone was ringing as the boys rushed in.

Mr. Haskins seized the receiver from the wall telephone. âYep!â he shouted into the mouthpiece, then handed the instrument to Frank.

âThis is Hank Shale,â came a voice, barely understandable through the static. âYour pa asked me to call and say he needs your help pronto.â

âIs Dad okay?â Frank asked loudly.

The answer was drowned out by crackling noises over the wire. Then the voice said, âGet here to Lucky Lode,â and the line went dead.

âHank Shale is the name of the old friend Dad told us heâd be staying with,â Joe recalled. âBut how do we know that was really Shale?â

âI heard the operator say it was Lucky Lode calling,â put in Mr. Haskins.

âThat settles it then,â Frank said urgently. âSomething has happened. We must take off right away and help Dad!â

âThereâs a morning flight to the West,â Joe said. âWeâll have to make it!â

After some difficulty, the boys managed to place a call to Lucky Lode, notifying Hank of their plan to start out the next day.

âBetter eat before you go,â the hotel proprietor said kindly.

Gratefully the hungry boys joined Mr. Haskins and Lenny at a table in the kitchen. While they ate, Frank and Joe made their plans. They asked Lenny to take them back to the cabin in his jeep and wait while they packed.

âThen weâll pick up our car in the garage, drive all night, and make Bayport by sunup. Another car can be sent back later for the other fellows.â

After the meal, the Hardys thanked Mr. Haskins and hurried out with Lenny. Soon they were riding up the steep hill in the noisy jeep.

Joe shouted, âWeâll have to move fast toââ

Crash! The oil pan of the jeep hit a rock in the road. The vehicle lurched into the ditch and stopped against a tree.

âWe can soon push it back on the road,â Lenny said, as they climbed out.

âNo use. We wouldnât get far, the way itâs losing oil,â replied Frank when he saw the extent of the damage. âWeâll walk the rest of the way and you can go back for help or another car.â

Lenny agreed and hurried down the hill as the Hardys began hiking up the rugged road. Their flashlights were on, but the beams hardly penetrated the thickening fog. Often they stumbled over rocks and into ruts. The night was raw and damp.

The jeep lurched into the ditch!

Suddenly Joe stopped. âWhatâs that?â

For a second they both stood still and from the woods came a faint cry. âHe-e-elp!â

âCome on!â Frank said tersely.

The boys cut into the woods on their right, and felt their way through the mist-shrouded trees. Low branches cut their faces, and once Joe tripped over a huge oak root.

Again they heard the thin call for help.

âOver there,â said Frank, âwhere the fog is denser.â

Cautiously they moved forward. Suddenly the cry came more loudlyâfrom right below their feet!

âCareful,â warned Frank, feeling ahead with his foot. âThereâs a ravine here.â Half sliding, the boys worked their way down the bank. At the bottom Frank stumbled over something bulky and there came another moan. He beamed his light on a prostrate figure.

âHere he is, Joe,â said Frank. The two boys knelt beside the victim.

âMy leg,â the man groaned. âIâve been shot.â

With extreme care Frank pulled aside the trouser cloth torn by the bullet. âDoesnât seem to be much bleeding now, but there might be more when we move you.â Quickly the boys wound their handkerchiefs loosely around the manâs thigh to use as a tourniquet if necessary.

As they lifted the moaning figure, he fainted.

âNo time to waste, Joe. Heâs pretty weak.â

Joe peered around into the blanket of fog. âSuppose we canât find our cabin?â he asked grimly.

âWe must,â Frank replied. âThis man may die if we donât get him to shelter.â

CHAPTER II

A Suspicious Summons

TOGETHER, the boys eased the unconscious man up the bank. Then Frank hoisted him over one shoulder.

âLucky heâs not a big fellow,â Joe commented.

He went ahead, beaming his light through the fog and leading Frank by one hand. Gradually the white mist grew less dense, and the Hardys could make out the shapes of trees.

âThat looks like the oak where I stumbled,â Joe said. âI think we go left here.â

Progress was slow and uncertain. Finally Frank said, âIf we donât come to the road soon, weâd better stop. We may have lost our bearings and be heading deeper into the woods.â

To the boysâ relief, the manâs wound bled little. Just as they were about to turn back, Joe felt rocky ruts underfoot and exclaimed, âHereâs the road!â

Carefully he and Frank began the climb uphill and struggled to the top. The fog had drifted and lightened in spots. The boys trudged on. Finally, Frank caught sight of the path which led to the clearing. A few minutes later the Hardys found the cabin, and Frank pounded on the door.

Biff opened it and exclaimed in amazement. Quickly he and the other boys helped carry the man to one of the bunks and covered him. When Tony brought the oil lamp from the table, they saw that the manâs face was deeply seamed by time and weather. Joe removed the manâs worn woolen hat, revealing a thick thatch of grizzled hair.

While Frank cut away the victimâs trouser leg and examined the bullet wound in his thigh, Joe quietly told the others all that had happened. Meantime, Biff unpacked their first-aid kit, and Chet began heating a can of soup.

âWe must get this man to a doctor,â Frank said as he finished bandaging the leg. âThe bullet will have to be removed.â

The victim groaned and his eyes fluttered open. âWh-where am I?â he whispered.

Joe quickly explained what had happened.

âSip this soup,â Chet told the patient, âand youâll feel a lot better. Iâll feed it to you.â

When the stranger had finished the soup, he said in a stronger voice, âThank you, boys, for a mighty good turn. I wish I could repay you.â

âThe most important thing is to get you to a doctor. Weâre expecting Lenny Haskins to come forââ Frank broke off as the old man gave a start. âIs anything wrong?â

âSay! Would any of you boys be Frank and Joe Hardy?â the patient inquired in a feeble voice.

The two brothers identified themselves.

âI plumb forgot, gettinâ shot by that fool hunter and all,â the man went on, âbut youâre the lads I was cominâ to see. The storekeeper in Clintville said you wanted to get in touch with me.â

âAre you Mike Onslow?â Frank queried.

âYep, thatâs me.â

âWe asked about you, but the storekeeper told us youâd probably be off tending your traplines,â Frank went on. âHe doubted weâd catch you at home, even if we could find your cabin.â

Onslow nodded. âMy shackâs pretty hard to get to if you donât know these woods. I camp out quite a bit, anyhow, durinâ the trappinâ season.â He gave the brothers a quizzical look. âWhat you want to see me about?â

âYouâd better not do any more talking till youâre stronger,â Joe advised.

But the trapper insisted he felt equal to it, so Frank explained that their father was a private detective and had been engaged to track down a gang of criminals in Montana.

âDad thinks they may be holed up somewhere in the country around Lucky Lode,â Frank went on. âHe heard out there that you had prospected the whole area about twenty-five years ago and once tangled with crooks who had a secret hideout in those parts.â

Joe added, âHe thought you might know of some likely spots to hunt for the gang.â

The elderly trapper sighed and settled back on the bunk. His eyes took on a faraway look.

âYep, I know the Lucky Lode country like the palm of my hand,â he murmured. âDonât reckon as I can help you much, though. But your paâs rightâI did run up against a gang oâ owlhoots.â

âTell us about it,â Frank urged.

âWell,â Onslow began, âI was partners with two brothers, John and James Coulson, and a big redheaded daredevil, Bart Dawson. We were workinâ a claim in the Bitterroot Hills and we sure ânough struck it rich.â

âGold?â Joe asked.

Onslow nodded. âReal pay dirtâwe thought we were fixed for life. By the time the vein petered out, we had three bags oâ nuggets and one of old gold coins we found stashed behind a rock.â

âWow! What happened?â put in Tony.

âThe night we were ready to leave our claim, we were jumped by the toughest bunch oâ crooks in MontanaâBlack Pepper and his gang. They surrounded our cabin, and we knew weâd never get away with our skins and the gold.â

âHow did you make it finally?â Chet asked.

âWell, Bart Dawson was an ex-pilot and he had an old, beat-up plane out on the plateau. Weâd already put the gold aboardâeasier than lugginâ it on horseback. While we lured Black Pepper and his boys around to the front of the cabin, Bart slipped out back and ran for his crate. The gang spotted Bart and chased him. We heard his motor, so we knew he got away okay. Before the varmints came back, the rest of us escaped from the cabin.â

âYou met Dawson later?â Joe wanted to know.

Onslowâs face became bitter. âWe were supposed to meet him up in Helena and split the gold four ways. But we never saw Dawson or the gold again. Funny part of it is, Dawson was a good partner. Iâd have staked my life we could trust him. But I was wrong.â

âDidnât you ever hear of him afterward, or pick up his trail?â questioned Frank.

âNope. Never found hide nor hair oâ him. After that, I got fed up prospectinâ. So I come back East and settled down to scratchinâ out a livinâ with my traplines. I lost track oâ the Coulson brothers.â

Everyone was silent and thoughtful for a moment. Then Joe asked Mike Onslow, âHave you any ideas as to where Dad might look for the criminals heâs after?â

The woodsman chuckled dryly. âSon, thereâs a heap oâ places he might lookâawful big country out Montana way. Them mountains is full oâ spots for a gang to hole up in.â The trapper frowned. âOne likely place was in the Lone Tree areaâa box canyon part way up Windy Peak. Accordinâ to rumors, that was Black Pepperâs hideout.â

The Hardys were excited by this information. âThanks for the tip,â said Frank. âItâs tough luck, your getting shot tonight. It wouldnât have happened if you hadnât started out to see us. But maybe we can make up for it.â

âRight!â Joe chimed in. âWhen weâre out West, weâll try to find a clue to Dawson and your missing gold.â

âThatâs kind of you, boys,â said the trapper, âbut I donât think thereâs much use. If Dawson really stole that gold, there wouldnât be much left after twenty-five years. All the same,â he added spunkily, âif youâre willinâ to try, Iâll help you if I can.â

Onslow scratched his head and was thoughtful for a moment. âDonât know if itâll do any good, but Iâll draw you a map of our claim.â

âThatâll be a starting point, anyhow,â Frank said.

While the boys packed the Hardysâ gear, Onslow drew a map for Frank and Joe. âHereâs where the claim was,â he said, marking an X. âThis region was called the Lone Tree area because of a giant pine which stood all by itself on a cliff. Every body out there knows Lone Tree,â he added.

As Joe tucked the map into his pocket, someone pounded on the door. It was Lenny. âAre you ready?â he asked, panting. âThe jeepâs fixed.â

Frank told him about finding Onslow with the gunshot wound. Then the boys improvised a stretcher, and Frank and Joe carried the injured trapper out to the jeep. While they were placing him on the back seat, Tony, Chet, and Biff collected and stowed the Hardysâ gear. A few moments later Lenny started the engine and they took off.

âSo long!â Frank and Joe called from the jeep.

âGood luck!â chorused Chet and the others.

When Lenny reached town, he drove straight to the local doctorâs office. Despite their hurry, the Hardys waited to hear Dr. Knappâs report after the bullet had been removed.

âHeâll have to stay off that leg and have nursing care,â Dr. Knapp advised as he washed his hands. âHe ought to go to the hospital.â

âI have no money for that,â Mike spoke up. âIâll look after myself.â

âNo, you wonât,â Frank said with a smile. âWeâll take you back to Bayport with us.â

âYou bet!â his brother added. âMother and Aunt Gertrude will like having somebody to fuss over.â

The injured man protested that he did not want to be a nuisance, but the boys won their point. After picking up their car at the garage, they drove all night and arrived in Bayport at dawn. Quietly they carried Onslow up to their room. Then Frank awakened his mother and explained what had happened. She smiled understandingly and soon she and Mr. Hardyâs sister, Gertrude, were welcoming the woodsman warmly.

âYou look as though youâre in need of a good meal,â Miss Hardy stated. She was a tall, spare woman with a tart tongue but a warm heart.

âWeâll fix something right now,â agreed the boysâ slim, attractive mother.

As Frank and Joe hurried downstairs after the women, Aunt Gertrude clucked disapprovingly. âFlying around in airplanes, traipsing about the Wild West chasing outlaws! You boys are headed for trouble again.â

âWe hope so, Aunty.â Joe laughed as his aunt sniffed and bustled into the kitchen with Mrs. Hardy.

Frank called the airport to check on their plane time and reported to Joe. âWe have one hour to shower, dress, drive to the airport, and buy our tickets.â

âWe can take our camping gear just as it is,â said his brother.

The boys wasted no time getting ready, and soon were on their way. They pulled up in the parking lot outside the air terminal with ten minutes to spare. Frank paid for their tickets and checked the baggage through to Cold Springs, the closest airport to Lucky Lode. Meantime, Joe wired their father.

As the brothers sank into their plane seats, Joe exclaimed with a grin, âWe made it!â

âBut we have to change at Chicago and Butte,â Frank reminded him.

As soon as the plane was airborne, a hot breakfast was served. After eating, the boys napped for a couple of hours. When they awoke, Joe took out the map Onslow had drawn.

âIt shows the area around the claim,â he remarked, studying it closely. âBut not how to get there from Lucky Lode.â

Joe was replacing the sketch in his wallet, when the pilotâs voice announced that they were coming into Chicagoâs OâHare Airport. After deplaning, Frank and Joe checked at the airline ticket counter. A clerk told them that the plane they were to board would be three hours late in taking off.

Just then a quiet voice behind them asked, âAre you the Hardy boys?â

The brothers turned to face the speakerâa well-dressed man in dark clothes. âYes, we are,â Frank replied.

âMy name is Hopkins,â the stranger said. âIâve had word from your father that Iâm to give you some important reports. Unfortunately, I didnât have time to stop by my office to get them, so Iâll have to ask you to come there with me.â

Frank looked at Joe. They had never heard the detective mention Mr. Hopkins. The man smiled. âIâm glad to see youâre cautious,â he said. âBut I assure you this is on the level. Your father called me this morning.â

The boys realized they did not know all Mr. Hardyâs associates. It was possible the man was telling the truth. Both Frank and Joe reasoned that Hank Shale could have mentioned Mr. Hopkins over the telephone, but they had missed it because the connection had been so bad.

âWhom is Dad staying with?â Frank asked as a test.

âHank Shale,â Mr. Hopkins replied promptly. Then he added seriously, âThe reports are very important, boys.â Frank and Joe knew they would have to risk accompanying him.

âAll right,â Frank said. âLetâs go.â

âMy car and chauffeur are right outside,â Mr. Hopkins told them, walking toward the door.

The brothers followed him to a large black sedan parked at the curb. The chauffeur leaned back and opened the rear door. The boys climbed in. Mr. Hopkins seated himself in front.

Suddenly, as the driver started the motor, both rear doors opened and two big, tough-looking men slid in, one on each side of the Hardys.

Instantly Frank and Joe realized this was a trap. Joe reached across to the dashboard in a desperate effort to switch off the engine. The two thugs pushed him back roughly.

âNone oâ that!â one snarled as the car shot away from the curb. âFrom here on you kidsâll take orders from us. Donât argue or weâll shut you up in a way you wonât like!â

CHAPTER III

Shortcut to Peril

FRANK and Joe gritted their teeth, furious at hav ing walked into a trap. The two thugs kept an iron grip on the boys.

âWhere are you guys taking us?â Joe asked angrily.

Hopkins turned around in the front seat and gave a nasty sneer. âYouâre both going on a little trip. Youâll soon find out where.â He added gloatingly, âWe knew that youâd show up at the airport today.â

He now addressed one henchman, a flashily dressed fellow. âRobby, gag these kids if they squawk. And you, Zeke, let them see what youâll use on them if you have to.â

Zeke, who was wearing a brown suit and shirt, opened his huge hand and revealed a small blackjack. Without a word he gave the boys a threaten ing look and closed his hand again.

The car moved smoothly through traffic and the boysâ captors never loosened their grasp. After a long ride, the car reached a wide, store-fronted avenue in one of the Chicago suburbs. Slowing up, it turned down a side street and pulled into the driveway of a very old house near the corner. The driver parked in back and the four men hustled the Hardys inside. They went upstairs to an open hallway protected by a railing.

âGet in there!â Zeke ordered, and pushed the boys into a room near the head of the stairs. There was one window with the shade drawn and a table.

âWhatâs this all about?â Frank demanded.

Hopkins ignored the question. âEmpty your pockets!â he barked.

Zeke opened his hand, disclosing the black jack. Realizing that resistance was pointless, the brothers obeyed.

âYou wonât need this stuff,â Hopkins said, as tickets, money, and keys were laid on the table.

Going through Joeâs wallet, Hopkins found the map which Mike Onslow had drawn. Hopkins gave the boys a hard look. âWhere did you get this?â

âWhat do you want with us?â Frank countered.

Hopkinsâ eyes glittered menacingly. âSo you wonât talk about the map. Well, you will later.â He folded the map and put it into his pocket. âThe bossâll be interested to hear about this,â he said to his companions. âNow tie up these smart alecks.â

With a sneer the driver of the car pulled several lengths of heavy cord from his pocket. Robby bound the Hardysâ wrists behind their backs, while Zeke began tying their ankles together.

As his henchmen finished, Hopkins snapped, âI have to get downtown. Nick, go out and start the car.â When the chauffeur left, Hopkins said to Zeke and Robby, âDonât forgetâIâll need one of you a little later.â

âHow about me?â Robby asked hopefully.

âYouâll do.â Hopkins glanced at his wristwatch. âThereâll be a taxi here to pick you up at noonâtwenty-three minutes from now. Be ready.â

As Hopkins moved toward the door, Joe asked hotly, âHow long are you going to keep us here?â

âUntil your father drops the case heâs on.â

After a short interval there came the sound of a car driving away. Within seconds Zeke said to Robby, âLetâs go downstairs and eat some lunch.â

âAnd leave these boys?â Robby asked. âZeke, youâre crazy. They might get loose.â

A crafty look came into Zekeâs eyes as he gazed at a closet. It had an old-fashioned wooden latch.

âWeâll lock âem in there,â he said. âIf they try to bust out, weâll hear âem and come runninââ

âOkay,â Robby agreed. âAnd for safety weâll lock the hall door.â

Frank and Joe were dragged into the closet and the latch was secured. The men left the room. At once the Hardys began trying to free themselves. Frank managed to back close to his brother, and with his fingers, work at Joeâs wrist bonds.

âWe sure pulled a boner,â Frank said grimly. âDad told us before he left that the gang heâs after is widespread.â

âWhat puzzles me,â Joe replied, as he finally extricated his hands from the loosened ropes, and untied Frankâs wrist cords, âis how they knew we were heading for the West?â

Frank shrugged as he and Joe freed their ankles. âWeâll find out later. Right now we must escape.â

Joe was already feeling around the closet. On a hook hung a slender metal coat hanger. âIâll try this,â he said. âThe door crack by the latch is pretty wide. Hurray! The hanger goes through!â

It was only a matter of moments before the wooden latch had been pushed upward, and the boys stepped out of the closet. They pocketed the tickets, money, and wallets, which were still on the table.

Joe whispered, âThe hall door wonât be so easy.â

Frank had tiptoed to the one window in the room. He pushed aside the shade and looked down onto a shabby backyard adjoined by empty lots.

âToo far to drop down there,â he muttered. âWeâll just have to rush those men when they come back.â

The next instant came the sound of heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs. Joe stepped to one side of the door while Frank crouched in the center of the room.

The key turned in the lock and the door burst open. Frank charged forward, butting Zeke squarely in the stomach. The blow sent the man reeling across the hall against the hallway railing. Zeke toppled over it backward with a shriek of panic and would have plunged to the floor below had he not grabbed one of the rails.

Enraged, Zekeâs partner seized Frank by the shoulder and swung him around for a punch. Joe rushed out through the doorway. His fist landed hard on the back of Robbyâs skull and the man collapsed in a heap.

âCome on! Letâs go!â Frank exclaimed.

Zeke snarled and tried desperately to pull himself back up over the railing as the two boys dashed downstairs and out the front door. To their relief, they saw a taxi waiting at the curb, its motor idling.

âBoy! We timed things just right!â Joe exclaimed gleefully.

The driver, a thin-faced, hawk-nosed man, looked at the boys in surprise as they yanked open the car door and climbed in.

âOâHare Airport,â Frank ordered. âFast as you can make it!â

The driver threw the car into gear and pulled away from the curb. Frank and Joe looked back at the house. As the taxi reached the corner and swung onto the avenue, the boys caught a glimpse of Robby rushing from the house.

âIâll bet heâs mad enough to chew nails!â Joe thought with a chuckle.

âIâd like to see Hopkinsâ face when Robby reports what happened,â Frank whispered.

âCanât you go any faster?â Joe asked the driver. âWe have to catch a plane.â

The taxi driver glanced at the Hardys in his rearview mirror. âSure. Iâll take a shortcut.â

He turned right at the next corner. After threading his way through several narrow side streets, the driver came to another avenue. Here he swung right again.

The Hardys were puzzled. Although the side streets had slanted and twisted somewhat, it seemed as if they were now heading back in the same direction from which they had come! Joe was about to protest when Frank clutched his arm.

He pointed furtively to the taxi driverâs identification card. The photograph on the card showed a chubby man with a small button nose. He looked nothing like the hawk-featured driver.

Joe gulped as he realized that this driver was an impostorâmost likely one of Hopkinsâ thugs! The boys had escaped from Zeke and Robby only to fall straight into the clutches of another member of the gang!

CHAPTER IV

A Painted Warning

THE Hardys looked at each other, speechless. No wonder the taxi driver had seemed surprised! He must have guessed they had escaped from Zeke and Robby. But he had not dared risk any strong-arm tactics in full view of the neighboring houses.

Probably, Frank thought, he had driven around to gain time while figuring out his next move. Maybe the driver, too, had glimpsed Robby and was circling back to the house for help.

Joe wondered, âCould we tackle this hood without causing an accident? Iâm afraid not.â

As if reading his brotherâs mind, Frank scribbled a note on his plane-ticket envelope:

Hop out at first stoplight!

Joe nodded tensely. Two blocks later a traffic signal loomed. It was just changing to yellow. The driver tried to beat the light, but an oncoming car made a left turn, blocking his way, and he had to slam on the brakes. Frank nudged his brother toward the right-hand door and Joe jerked it open.

âHey! Whatâs the idea?â the driver snarled as the boys leaped out. âCome back!â

Frank and Joe sprinted across the street. Reaching the curb, they glanced back. The driver was still snarling at them, but they could not hear what he was saying. Then the light changed and he was forced to move on in the surge of traffic.

âHe may try a U-turn!â Frank said. âLetâs go!â

âWait! Here comes another taxi!â Joe exclaimed. They flagged it down and jumped in. âOâHare Airport! Step on it!â Frank ordered.

As the taxi sped off, the boys watched out the rear window. But no one was in pursuit.

âWhew!â Joe said, giving a sigh of relief. âGood thing you spotted that identification photo!â

Frank nodded. âThat thug must have stolen the car from the real driverâand not just to trap us,â he whispered. âIâll bet it was to be used for pulling another job!â

âRight! Thatâs why Hopkins told Robby ex actly when it would arriveâthey may be planning a carefully timed holdup!â

It was only a few minutes before takeoff when the boys dashed into the air terminal. Frank made a hasty call to Captain Jaworski of the Chicago Police, an old friend. Frank quickly explained what had happened and told the chief their theory that the gang might be planning to use the stolen taxi for some crooked job.

âThe name on the real driverâs identification card was Ira Kleeder,â Frank added.

âGood enough. We can get the license number from the taxi company. And thanks for the tip!â

Joe, who was standing watch outside the telephone booth, rapped on the glass and pointed frantically to his wristwatch. Frank rang off, and the boys raced to the loading gate.

âWe nearly left without you,â the stewardess said as she welcomed them aboard the plane. The Hardys smiled and found seats.

Soon they were airborne. The two boys settled back as the plane headed west.

âIâd sure like to know how Hopkins got word we were on our way to Lucky Lode,â Frank mused.

âThe gang out there must have informed him,â Joe said. âRememberâhe even knows that Dad is staying with Hank Shale.â

âAnother thing,â Frank went on, âwhy should they be interested in that map? Is there some connection between Onslowâs claim and the gang? Weâd better ask Mike to send us another map.â

âI can remember it pretty clearly,â Joe assured him, then added soberly, âWhy didnât Dad call us himself? I hope heâs not hurt.â

Frank nodded, troubled. Lunch was served aboard the plane. Afterward, the boys dozed.

At Butte they were wary, staying close to other passengers as they changed planes. No one bothered them, however. Soon they were winging their way in a two-motored craft over the frozen ridges of the Rockies toward Cold Springs, the small airport serving Lucky Lode.

The plane set down bumpily on a snow-covered landing strip. As the Hardys came out and gazed around, a sharp, biting wind hit their faces.

âWow! This sure is different!â said Frank.

Pine woods surrounded the bleak, windswept field with its Quonset hut terminal and hangar. A helicopter and a tiny single-engine aircraft were parked near the edge of the field. To the west loomed the snowy Bitterroot mountain range.

âBrr!â Joe shivered. âLonely looking, eh?â

âSure is.â Frank replied.

As the brothers headed for the terminal, a hatless man in a plaid mackinaw strode toward them. âFrank and Joe Hardy?â he boomed.

He was a tall, handsome, ruddy-faced man. His white hair blew about in the wind. âIâm Bob Dodge,â he added, shaking hands with the boys heartily. âYour fatherâs working on a case for me in Lucky Lode. I came over in my helicopter to pick you up.â

âWhy didnât Dad come?â Frank asked.

âHe had an accidentâbroke a couple of ribs. Nothing serious,â Dodge added, âbut the doctor taped his chest and wants him to keep quiet.â

Seeing a look of suspicion on the boysâ faces, Dodge took a picture from his pocket. âYour father gave me this.â He held out a snapshot of the Hardysâ house with Aunt Gertrude standing on the lawn. âThatâs your fatherâs sister,â Dodge said.

âOkay.â Frank knew that if the detective had been forced to hand over the picture, he would not have given Aunt Gertrudeâs true identity. Mr. Dodge must be all right.

âWe have to be careful,â Joe explained.

âI understand.â Dodge smiled. âThereâs some stuff in the terminal I want to pick up. You two go on aboard.â He gestured toward the helicopter.

The boys started across the field. They were still some distance from the craft when a tall, thin man suddenly jumped out of the ship and walked rapidly away.

âWonder who he is?â Joe asked.

âMaybe an airport attendant,â Frank guessed.

âIf so, why is he heading for the woods?â

Frank frowned. When they reached the helicopter, he said, âI wish we knew what that fellow was doing aboard.â

Joe pulled back the door and looked inside cautiously. The boys searched the helicopter but found nothing.

Frank chuckled in relief. âOkay, we didnât get booby-trapped. Letâs stow our gear.â

They climbed out and Joe was about to open the access hatch to the baggage compartment, just aft of the cabin, when Frank stopped him.

âLetâs play safe and check this door.â

âGood idea.â Frank took a rope from his gear and tied one end to the hatch handle. The boys backed off to one side. Frank tugged the rope.

Boo-o-om! A deafening blast rocked the craft and knocked the boys off their feet. An acrid smell of gunpowder assailed their nostrils.

âGood grief!â Joe whispered.

Pale and shaken, they examined the baggage compartment. A sawed-off shotgun had been wired and propped into position inside, evidently by someone working through a removable panel in the forward wall. The gun had been triggered by a cord tied to the door latch.

Meanwhile, the explosion had brought Bob Dodge and an older man running from the terminal. âWhat happened?â they yelled together.

Frank explained, and the two men examined the deadly setup with dismayed looks. Joe cautioned them not to touch the weapon so it could be checked for fingerprints. Dodgeâs companion, who proved to be the airport manager, went off to report the incident to the police.

Frank and Joe took out their fingerprint kit and dusted the shotgun. No prints appeared.

âThe man we saw at the copter wore gloves,â Frank recalled, âbut I was hoping something might show up, anyhow.â

âThe gun must have been wiped clean beforehand,â Joe deduced.

Soon two police officers arrived. The Hardys described their near-fatal experience, and reported the results of their fingerprint check.

âYouâre detectives?â one officer asked.

Frank introduced himself and his brother as Fenton Hardyâs sons. âI see,â said the officer. âIâve heard of himârarely fails to solve a case. So youâre following in his footsteps. Well, good luck!â

The brothers turned over the weapon to the policemen, who then, with the boys assisting, made a thorough check of the helicopter. They found no clues, however, so the Hardys stowed their gear and followed Dodge aboard the whirlybird.

âThat scattergun could have been meant for me,â Dodge remarked worriedly, as he started the motor.

âOr for us,â Frank said.

As the helicopter rose and soared toward the Bitterroot mountain range, Frank told Dodge of their being kidnapped in Chicago.

âWhat is the case Dad is working on for you?â Joe asked.

âIâve been running an armored-car service for ten years,â the big man explained. âRecently one of my trucks was hijacked and a money shipment stolen. Both guards aboard were shot. The money was insured, of course, but I wanted those hijackers caught to avoid any future holdups, so, knowing your fatherâs reputation for tracking down hijackers, I engaged him to investigate. My menâs safety is important to me. The police have worked on the case, too. They and your father managed to recover the money and catch two of the gang, but the others escaped. Someone reported seeing them in Canada.â

Boo-o-om! The blast knocked the boys off their feet

âThen why has Dad stayed here?â Frank asked.

âBecause he believes the leader of the gang, Big Al Martin, is still in this area. Your father refuses to leave until he is found.â

âHow did Dad get hurt?â Joe questioned.

âHe was thrown from a horse yesterday afternoon,â Dodge replied, âwhile chasing a fellow he thinks is one of Big Alâs men.â

âAnd now Dad wants us to try to find the outlaws,â Frank surmised.

âYes,â Dodge said, âand the sooner the better. Big Alâs dangerousâhe belongs behind bars. The police know he has henchmen in other cities.â

As Dodge spoke, the helicopter shook and rattled in the wind. Below them, the boys saw wild, rugged country. Snow-covered buttes stood like gaunt sentinels overlooking heavily wooded valleys.

Presently Dodge shouted, âIt wonât be long now!â

Ahead, in a mountain cleft, the pilot pointed out the tiny town of Lucky Lode. âOver to the left is Windy Peakâthe highest in the range.â

âHave you been flying long, Mr. Dodge?â Joe asked.

âI started taking lessons a couple of years ago and it came easily to me.â

âHave you always lived in the West?â Frank asked, but Dodge did not reply.

âHere we go!â he said, and began setting the helicopter down. Frank wondered if Dodge had not heard his question or did not want to discuss his past.

The pilot landed expertly in a clearing at one end of Lucky Lode. Then he helped the boys lug their gear to Hank Shaleâs cabin at the foot of a steep hill on the outskirts of the town.

When Frank knocked, the door was opened by a tall, skinny man with thinning red hair. His wrinkled face split into a grin when he saw the trio.

âCome in and thaw out!â he exclaimed. âIâm Hank Shale. Your pa and Iâve been waitinâ for you!â

The boys entered to find their father seated before a roaring fire. Fenton Hardy was a trim, athletic-looking man. His keen eyes lighted up when he saw his sons.

âHello, boys,â said the detective, and moving carefully, shook hands with them. âThanks for giving up your camping trip.â

âWeâd rather work with you any day,â Joe said, grinning.

Mr. Hardy smiled and turned to Dodge. âI appreciate your bringing my sons.â

Hank announced that he was going to the kitchen and rustle up some grub.

âIâll help you,â Dodge volunteered. âThe three detectives can sit by the fire and exchange news.â

In low voices the boys told their father all that had happened since they had left Bayport.

Mr. Hardy looked grave. âI agree with you that someone here must have informed Alâs Chicago henchmen that you were coming. But who?â He glanced toward the kitchen and called, âHank!â

When the red-haired man appeared in the doorway, Mr. Hardy asked him, âWho was in Burkeâs general store when you phoned my sons last night?â

âJust the usual crowd oâ fellers sittinâ around the stove,â Hank replied. âI had to holler on account oâ that bad connection, so they all heard every word.â

âSomeone on the line might have been listening, too,â Joe remarked.

âI smell somethinâ buminâ!â Hank exclaimed and bolted into the kitchen.

âWeâll have to be on guard,â said Frank. âSomeone probably will be watching every move we make.â

âDad,â Joe asked, âwhat made you so sure Big Al didnât go to Canada?â

âI was working with the police,â Mr. Hardy said, âwhen we caught two of the gang week before last. One of them told us Big Al was hiding out here, and meant to attend to some unfinished business. The police thought he was lying in order to sidetrack us while Al made an escape. I had a hunch it was the truth.â

âWhy?â asked Frank.

âBecause the man seemed scared and appeared to be hoping for a break at his trial. I started riding the hills trying to pick up Alâs trail. Yesterday I followed a rough-looking fellow on horseback. He met another man in a small clearing. I heard them talking and caught the words âBig Alâ and âhideout.â Just then my horse Major whinnied and the men galloped off. I gave chase, but Major stumbled and I took a spill.â The detective smiled ruefully. âNow Iâm stuck here! Boys,â he added seriously, âyour job is to find that hideout.â

Frank and ,joe, greatly excited by this challenge, discussed it all during a supper of thick western steaks, beans, and biscuits.

âWeâll have to get a line on what Big Alâs unfinished business is,â Frank said, when they were seated around the fireplace later.

âIn any event, itâs probably illegal,â his father rejoined.

Presently Dodge got up. âGuess Iâd better get back to the hotel.â

âAre your offices in Lucky Lode?â Joe asked.

âNo, in Helena. Iâve been staying in town to watch developments on the case. If thereâs any way I can help you, boys,â the big man added, âjust let me know.â

After Dodge had left, Mr. Hardy remarked, âBob strikes me as a fine man. Never mentions his early days, but Iâm told he started his business on a shoestring and built it up by hard work.â

âSpeakinâ oâ work, who wants to wash dishes?â

Laughing, the boys took Hankâs hint and before long the kitchen was shipshape.

Finally the brothers went to bed in one of two small rooms which led off the big one. Weary, the boys fell asleep immediately.

Suddenly they awoke with a start. A rumbling noise was coming from behind the cabin, growing louder every moment. The brothers leaped from bed. At the same instant, the cabin was jarred with a deafening crash.

Frank and Joe heard Hank yell as they rushed into the living room. âLook! Fire!â He pointed to the kitchen where a bright red glow was visible.

The trio dashed in. By the light of the flames they could see that a huge boulder had crashed through the back wall, overturning the stove and spewing burning firewood over the floor.

The boys raced back to their bedroom to get blankets. Spreading them over the fire, they began smothering and stamping out the flames. Mr. Hardy had hurried from his room, but the boys would not allow him to help. Meanwhile, Hank had filled a bucket at the kitchen pump and was dousing water over the hot stove. The fire sizzled angrily but gradually died out.

âTarnation!â Hank exclaimed. âNearest thing to an avalanche weâve ever had around here.â He lighted an oil lamp, and everyone surveyed the damage.

âWhat a mess!â Joe grimaced.

The cabin owner sighed. âA whoppinâ big hole in the wall, and some burnt floorinâ. Well, I reckon I can fix it tomorrow.â

Frank and Joe started to push the boulder out through the hole, then Joe gasped in surprise. On the huge stone were brightly painted red letters. Rolling the boulder a bit farther, the boys made out a crudely painted message:

HARDYSâLEAVE TOWN!

Â 

âA warning from Big Allâ Frank said grimly.

CHAPTER V

The Strange Blue Light

THE three detectives and Hank examined the warning message on the huge rock.

âBig Al is a rough customer,â Mr. Hardy said, frowning. âBe on your guard at all times.â

âWeâll watch out, Dad,â Frank promised.

He and Joe shoved the boulder outside and looked up the hill. The moon had set and the mountainside was shrouded in darkness.

âNo telling if anyoneâs up there,â Joe muttered.

The two brothers shivered in the icy wind, and then squirmed through the hole into the burned kitchen. Meanwhile, Hank pulled on warm clothes, went out to a lean-to, and brought back a tarpaulin. The boys helped him nail it over the hole in the wall, then set the stove up.

âThatâll do till morninâ,â Hank said.

Frank and Joe were up as soon as it was light. After a quick breakfast they climbed the steep, snow-covered slope behind the shack, following the trail plowed by the huge boulder. The boys soon found a deep gouge where the stone had been pried out of the hillside.

âSomebody used a crowbar to get it going,â Joe said, kneeling on the ground.

âAnd here are some traces of red paint,â Frank pointed out.

They scouted around thoroughly, and noticed the snow had been disturbed, as if to cover tracks.

âWhoever pried that stone loose,â Frank said thoughtfully, âmay have come from town rather than from a hideout in the hills.â

âWhy?â

âBecause itâs not likely that anyone hiding up in the mountains would have red paint on hand. The person who did this probably got it at the village store.â

âMaybe Big Al has an agent in Lucky Lode,â Joe suggested.

The boys walked on up the hill. The undergrowth at the top was parted and broken.

âSomeone forced his way through here,â Frank said.

They followed the trampled brush to a trail which led along the wooded ridge, paralleling the main street of Lucky Lode below them. Soon they spotted a narrow path leading down into the small community.

âThe man weâre after could have come this way,â Frank said. âWeâd better scout for clues.â

Slowly he and Joe walked down the steep, narrow trail. There were footprints, but these were too jumbled to be of any significance. They reached the bottom without finding anything else, then climbed back to the top and continued along the ridge.

After a while the boys emerged into a clearing. Before them lay an old cemetery. They crawled through a gap in the dilapidated wooden fence and walked silently among the gravestones. From the bleak, windswept spot they could see all of Lucky Lode in the valley below. The old part of town ended directly under the cemetery.

âLook at these, Frank,â called Joe, from where he knelt beside a double headstone.

ââJohn and James Coulsonâ!â Frank read. âMike Onslowâs partners!â

âI guess they came to Lucky Lode to try for another stake,â Joe said.

âYouâre probably right,â Frank replied.

The boys decided to go into town and headed for the cemetery gate. Coarse brush grew up around the ornate posts. Frank passed through, but Joe was pulled up short.

âWait!â he said. âIâm caught!â

Big burrs clung to his trousers. Fumbling with heavily gloved fingers, he managed to get free. Together, he and Frank pulled out all the burrs and the brothers scrambled down the slope.

At the foot they saw the deserted gray-weathered buildings. As they walked along the old wooden sidewalk, the boards creaked and the wind rattled the loose doors and shutters.

âThis end of Lucky Lodeâs a real ghost town,â Frank remarked.

âSomebody lives here, though,â Joe replied. He pointed ahead to a tumbledown house. A pale stream of smoke issued from the chimney.

Suddenly the door opened a crack and a rifle muzzle poked out. It was aimed straight at the boys!

Frank and Joe halted, not knowing whether to drop to the ground or run. But nothing happened. At last they moved forward cautiously.

The muzzle followed the Hardys until they came abreast of the porch. Then the door was kicked open and an old man jumped out, aiming the weapon at them. Frank and Joe stopped.

âWhat are you doinâ here?â the white-haired man demanded curtly, his eyes squinting suspiciously.

âJust visiting,â Frank said in a friendly tone.

âWeâre from the East,â Joe went on. âStaying with Hank Shale.â

The old man lowered the rifle. âOh,â he said, relieved. âAny friend of Hank Shale is a friend of mine. Come on in.â

âDid you expect somebody else?â Frank asked, as the boys followed the old man into the shack.

âDonât know!â he snapped. âA fella canât be too careful around here now. Thereâs funny things happeninâ up on Cemetery Hill.â

The boys found themselves in a plainly furnished room heated by a wood stove. They introduced themselves and their host said, âMy nameâs Ben Tinker.â He pointed to two wooden chairs near the stove. âSit down and warm up.â

âWhat did you mean by funny things going on in the cemetery?â Frank asked him.

âItâs haunted,â Ben said flatly. âHas been for the past two weeks.â

âHaunted!â Joe echoed. âHow?â

âSometimes, late at night, a blue light blinks on and off up there. Iâve seen it,â the old man explained, âbecause Iâm a night owl and like a breath of air before turninâ in.â

âHas anyone else seen the light?â Frank asked.

âDoubt it. In Lucky Lode nobodyâs out late at night. But thatâs not all,â Ben went on. âAbout an hour after the lights show, somebody walks past here. I think itâs Charlieâs ghost. Charlie used to play piano in the Peacock Dance Hall next door. He was killed in a gunfight there forty years ago and buried up on Cemetery Hill.â

The Hardys were mystified. âWhy do you think itâs Charlieâs ghost, Ben?â Frank asked.

âBecause some nights I hear the pianoâitâs still there. Sort of tuneless, like when Charlie let his fingers wander over the keys.â

âWhen was the last time you saw the blue light?â Frank queried.

âNight before last.â

âYou donât really believe itâs a ghost, do you?â Joe said.

âMight be. Then again might not. Somebody might be up to monkey business,â Ben admitted. âThatâs why I keep this handy.â He pointed to the rifle leaning against the wall.

Frank, on impulse, asked the old-timer, âDo you know anything about John and James Coulson?â

âSure do. They died in a mining accident about twenty-five years ago, after some highbinder stole a lot oâ gold from them.â

âWeâd like to hear the story,â Frank said quickly.

Benâs rambling account of the Lone Tree incident agreed with the version the Hardys had heard from Mike Onslow.

âWhat happened to Bart Dawson?â Joe asked.

âCanât say for sure,â was Benâs reply, âbut he must have kept the gold. I saw him in Helena a couple oâ years after and he acted like he didnât know me. Why would he have done that if he hadnât been guilty?â

The Hardys exchanged glances. It certainly sounded as though Mike Onslowâs ex-partner had absconded with the gold! The brothers got up to leave, and Frank said, âThanks for telling us all this, Ben.â

âAny time, boys. Come back again,â the man urged. âBut stay away from that graveyard!â

As the Hardys walked down the main street toward the populated part of Lucky Lode, Frank suggested that the blue light could be a signal.

âI think so, too,â Joe agreed. âCemetery Hill is clearly visible from everywhere in town.â

âIt would be an ideal place for Big Al to signal a spy if he had one in Lucky Lode,â Frank remarked.

âBen said the light has been around for only a couple of weeks,â Joe added, âand thatâs about the length of time Dad thinks Big Al has been hiding out near here.â

âThe footsteps Ben hears could be the spy returning to town after meeting Al in the cemetery,â Frank speculated.

âWhat about the piano playing in the deserted dance hall?â Joe asked.

âMaybe itâs Ben Tinkerâs imagination.â

By this time the boys had reached the business section of Main Street. Frank stopped in front of the general store. âLetâs go in and see if we can find out anything about that red paint.â

Inside, a husky man stood behind the counter, slitting open cartons with his pocketknife. Frank asked if he were the owner.

âI am,â he said. âJim Burkeâs the name.â

Frank and Joe told him who they were, and he introduced the boys to several men seated around a potbelly stove. The Hardys noticed that the town post office, telephone switchboard, and telegraph office were also in the store.

âYou must know everything thatâs going on in town, Mr. Burke,â Joe said, smiling.

âThatâs right,â the man answered with a wink.

âCould you tell us which stores here stock red paint?â Frank asked.

Burke chuckled. âThis is the only store there is,â he replied. âI carry it. You want some?â

âNo,â said Joe. âWeâd like to find out if anyone bought red paint in the past few weeks.â

âNo one,â Burke told him promptly. âIâd remember because I donât sell much of it. Why?â

While Frank described the boulder attack on Hankâs cabin, he and Joe watched their listenersâ faces. None showed any sign of guilt. The Hardys told about meeting Ben Tinker and asked if anyone else had seen the blue light at the top of Cemetery Hill.

Burke laughed. âBen Tinkerâs always imagininâ things.â

One of the other men guffawed. âA couple of weeks ago he was seeinâ men from outer space.â

The Hardys did not believe this but made no comment. They left the store and went back to their cabin. Here they found Hank Shale and their father repairing the damaged wall.

âYouâd better take it easy, Dad,â Joe said with concern.

âOh, I havenât been exerting myself.â Fenton Hardy grinned at his sons. âI have to find some way to work off a little energy.â

While Hank fixed lunch, Frank and Joe related what they had found out.

âBen is an old man,â Hank put in as he dished out a sizzling plateful of ham and eggs, âbut heâs not loco. Still, the whole story, blue lights and all, might be just his imagination.â

That afternoon the boys insisted that their father remain quiet while they helped Hank rebuild the cabin wall. By nightfall the job was done.

While they were relaxing in front of the fire after supper, Hank told the boys where they could rent horses to search for Big Alâs hideout. âI only have my mare Daisy,â he added, âand sheâs none too young and spry.â

âThere are a number of abandoned mines in this area,â Mr. Hardy told his sons. âI suggest you investigate them.â

âBut watch out for tommy-knockers,â Hank warned with a grin.

âTommy-knockers? Whatâre they?â Joe asked.

âSome kind oâ gnomes or spirits or suchlike that live underground. Old-time miners used to say that if you heard one knockinâ, it meant there was about to be an accident.â

âOkay. If we hear any, weâll watch our step,â Frank promised jokingly. âBy the way, weâd like to search the Lone Tree area. Where was Mike Onslowâs claim located?â

âNobody knows, any more,â Hank said, scratching his head. âThe Lone Tree territoryâs too big for you fellows to cover alone.â

He drew them a sketch, showing the location of Lone Tree and deserted mines in the area. Frank and Joe decided which ones they would try next day.

Later, the brothers walked down to the livery stable on Main Street and rented horses for their expedition. The boys rode back to the cabin and stabled the animals in Hankâs lean-to. When they returned, Hank and Mr. Hardy were asleep, but the boys sat up for a while and discussed the mystery. They became aware that the wind had risen and was whipping around the cabin.

âWeâd better take a look at the horses,â Frank suggested.

Bundling into their heavy jackets, the boys went outside. The lean-to was snugly built and the animals seemed comfortable. Satisfied, Frank and Joe started back. As they rounded the corner of Hankâs cabin, they stopped short.

âLook!â breathed Joe.

Clearly visible on the top of Cemetery Hill was a winking blue light!

CHAPTER VI

Ghost Music

âLETâS go up there!â urged Frank, grabbing Joeâs arm.

As quickly and quietly as possible, the boys scaled the hill in back of Hankâs cabin and hurried along the ridge trail toward the graveyard. When they reached the edge of the clearing, Frank and Joe paused in the shelter of the trees.

The night was moonless but the northern lights made great colored streaks across the sky. In a back corner of the cemetery, the brothers spotted a tall, thin figure.

âProbably the person who signaled with the blue light!â Joe whispered.

Crouching low, the young detectives crept through the broken fence. They moved forward soundlessly to a large stone monument and knelt behind it. The Hardys wished they could get closer to the man, but that gravestone was the only one large enough to afford them cover.

The man paced about restlessly, stamping his feet and huddling his shoulders for warmth. Presently the boys heard the sound of footsteps in the front of the cemetery. A second figure, big and bulky, approached the first. The newcomerâs cap was pulled low, and his face appeared to be muffled for protection against the bitter cold. He took up a position with his back turned to the two brothers.

As the thin man spoke, Frank and Joe strained their ears to hear above the roaring of the wind. They were able to catch only a part of the conversation.

â... Big Alâs plenty mad,â the first man was saying. âHe gave me special orders for you tonight, Slip Gun.â

The big man was silent, apparently waiting for the speaker to continue.

âHe wants you to keep the Hardy boys bottled up in town,â the thin man went on. âAlso, be sure to tip him off on every move they make.â

The other manâs muffled response was drowned by the wind. Evidently he had asked a question.

âNo luck yet,â the tall figure declared. âHeâd better forget ... that special business ... itâs hopeless ... meeting day after tomorrow ... wants ... the usual stuff.â

âWhere?â

âShadow of the Bear,â answered the thin man.

The next instant there came the loud crack of breaking twigs. Both men whirled toward the noise. The boys held their breath. Was somebody else in the graveyard?

After a long silence, the thin man said, âTomorrow Jake and I . . . with the boss ... Bradyâs Mine. Itâs one that ainât flooded.â

Frankâs and Joeâs hearts jumped with excitement, but the wind rose to a howl and they could hear no more. The men murmured together for a few minutes, then parted.

The thin man moved past the Hardysâ hiding place. He slipped through the gap in the fence and quickly disappeared into the woods. Soon afterward, the boys heard a horse whinny and a brief clatter of hoofs on rocky ground.

âNo chance of following him,â Joe muttered. âHe might have led us to the gangâs hideout, too.â

Just then the other man trudged by. The boys waited tensely until the bulky figure reached the gate.

âJoe,â whispered Frank, âwe can still find out who Big Alâs spy in town is.â

Cautiously the boys started toward the cemetery gate. They could hear the big man ahead, slipping and slithering along over the stony, snow-covered hill. The Hardys followed him as closely as they dared, moving furtively from one patch of scrub brush to another.

Suddenly Frank stopped short to listen. He thought he had heard a noise behind them and seized his brotherâs arm to alert him. Startled, Joe slipped and nearly fell. A shower of stones cascaded down the hill!

There was silence on the dark slope. Frank and Joe stood motionless, listening intently. They could imagine the burly figure ahead listening as well. Then, from behind them, another rock came tumbling down.

Joe nudged Frank. âWe didnât cause that! Someoneâs following us!â

Had the thin man spotted them, the Hardys wondered, and doubled back to stalk them? Or had a third person been in the cemetery, as they suspected?

The brothers scanned the hill above, but could see no one. âHeâs probably hiding behind boulders or scrub,â Frank whispered.

After a while the Hardys thought they detected sounds of movement below them. Warily they descended, alert for any possible attack from the rear.

By the time they reached the foot of the hill, Frank and Joe had drawn close enough to their quarry to spot his shadowy figure disappearing into the ghost town. The boys trod stealthily on the snow-crusted wooden sidewalk, hugging the buildings. Ahead they could hear the manâs footsteps and see his bulky, muffled shape. Suddenly he vanished into the sagging shell of a deserted building.

The Hardys quickened their pace and peered around the corner of the building. They were just in time to see the man emerge from the rear. He whirled about and ran to the far side of the adjoining building.

Frank darted in pursuit and saw the man return to the street. When Frank reached the sidewalk again, Joe was at his elbow, silent as a shadow. Ahead, the man was hurrying down the street toward the other end of town.

âHe knows heâs being followed,â Joe whispered, âand is trying to shake us.â

âCome on, or weâll lose him!â Frank urged.

Flinging caution aside, the boys broke into a run, their steps pounding on the plank walk. Apparently their quarry heard them and immediately stepped up his own pace. A moment later the dim figure melted into the darkness between two old buildings. Frank and Joe reached the spot in a few seconds.

âThis way!â Frank urged in a low voice, and the Hardys plunged into the shadowy gloom of the narrow passageway.

Behind the two structures, the brothers found themselves in an area overgrown with weeds and brush which merged into the trees on the hillside. Frank and Joe halted, straining their eyes in the darkness and listening intently. Nothing could be heard but the windâthen the howl of a wolf somewhere beyond the ridge.

âLooks as if heâs given us the slip,â Joe muttered.

The boys flicked on their flashlights and searched about. They finally picked out the fugitiveâs prints, but his tracks led to the hard-trampled roadway and became indistinguishable. Baffled, the Hardys started back through the ghost town on their way to Hankâs cabin.

âOf all the luck!â Joe grumbled. âWe almost had our hands on that spy!â

âAt least weâve learned one thing about him,â Frank said thoughtfully.

âWhatâs that?â

âHis nickname. The man he met in the cemetery called him âSlip Gun.ââ

âYouâre right! I almost forgot,â Joe said. âMaybe itâll help us trace him, if we can find out what it means. Any idea?â

Frank shook his head. âNot a glimmer, except that it sounds like a cowboy expression. Maybe Hank can tell us.â

As they approached Ben Tinkerâs place, the brothers noticed that the windows were dark. Frank and Joe paused at the shack to listen, and heard a steady wheezing snore coming from inside.

âGood thing the old manâs asleepââFrank chuckledââor he might have started shooting at us!â

The Hardys resumed their pace. They were about to go past the deserted dance hall next door, when suddenly they froze in their tracks. Both Frank and Joe felt the hair on their necks rise and cold chills sweep up and down their spines.

From the abandoned hall, through the moan of the wind, came the sound of piano playing.

Tinkerâs ghost music!

CHAPTER VII

A Rooftop Struggle

THE wind suddenly died down and in the eerie silence Frank and Joe again heard the tinkle of the piano keys coming from the deserted dance hall.

Joe murmured, âHereâs one mystery we can solve tonight! Letâs find out what goes on in here!â

âRight.â

Moving lightly over the wooden sidewalk, the boys approached the dance-hall entrance. The weird, tuneless music stopped.

Frank and Joe looked at each other. âMaybe weâve scared the spook away,â Frank whispered half jokingly.

As if in answer, the music started once more. This time both the treble and bass keys of the piano sounded.

Quickly the Hardys drew flashlights from their jacket pockets and stepped inside. The searchers snapped on their flashlights and played the beams about the interior.

The music stopped again.

The room was sparsely furnished with a few rickety tables and chairs, heavily coated with dust. Ancient oil-lamp chandeliers, festooned with cobwebs, dangled from the ceiling.

At that moment the piano resumed its tinkling. Outside, the wind howled and shutters banged.

âBoy! This place is really creepy!â said Joe with a shudder.

Frank gripped his brotherâs arm. âLook there!â

The boysâ lights now fell on a raised dais at one end of the room. On it stood a battered upright piano.

The Hardys stared in astonishment as the music continued. âThe pianoâs playing by itself!â Joe exclaimed.

Quickly the brothers crossed the room and Frank lifted the top of the old piano. He shone his flashlight inside. There was a sudden squeaking and twanging of wires.

âFor Peteâs sake!â he burst out, as several rats scampered out of the piano, jumped down to the floor, and scurried away.

The boys laughed heartily. âThere goes Tinkerâs ghost music,â Frank said.

âTalented rats.â Joe grinned.

Suddenly, from the direction of the doorway, they heard the sidewalk creak. The boys whirled as a low, flat voice snarled, âYou kids have been askinâ for it!â

Frank and Joe barely had time to glimpse a headâmasked by a ghostlike hood with eyeholes âabove the swinging doors. Then a gloved hand jerked into view, clutching a short-barreled revolver, the thumb cocking back the hammer. There was a spurt of flame.

Bang! A bullet whistled across the room and thudded into the piano. The Hardys dived from the dais, snapping off their flashlights and crashing into the tables and chairs below.

As the echoes of the shot died away, Frank picked up a broken chair and hurled it in the general direction of the gun flash.

There was a grunt as the chair connected, then the Hardys could hear the gunmanâs feet scraping across the floor. He was stalking them in the darkness!

The boys separated instinctively to divide his attention. Frank crept off to the right and Joe to the left.

Suddenly Frank sprang to his feet. In two long strides he reached the window and leaped through it into the darkness outside.

Crash! Bang! There was no glass in the window, but Frankâs weight had carried away the crosspieces of the frame. He landed feet first. A moment later he saw a figure struggling through the window, grunting with the effort. The masked man!

Frank dashed around the corner of the dance hall. When he reached the back, he skidded to a halt at a high fence that was blocking his way. Hearing the gunmanâs steps behind him, Frank vaulted the fence and fell in a heap on the other side.

The gunman leaped a moment later. Frank held his breath. He could see the man silhouetted against the dim light of the skyâthen darting off into the darkness.

Frank jumped up and dashed into a ramshackle building that stood next to the dance hall. But the hooded man evidently had spotted the boyâs move, for Frank heard steps pounding in pursuit.

Without hesitation he raced through the front door and out onto the slippery, snowy sidewalk.

There was no time to find cover. The gunman was hot on his heels. In desperation, Frank ran straight down the open street. As he sped along, he wondered what had happened to Joe.

Flinging a glance over his shoulder, Frank saw the hooded gunman raise his arm to fire. Zing! The bullet whistled past Frankâs head and ricocheted off a metal store sign.

Just ahead, to the left, was an old hitching rail. Frank recalled that it stood in front of the ghost townâs abandoned hotel. He cut across the street and dashed into the narrow side yard of the hotel.

A flight of outside stairs slanted up the wall of the building. Frank mounted the steps two at a time. At the top was a rickety wooden balcony, which sagged under Frankâs weight as he stepped onto it.

âNow what?â the young detective wondered. Had he worked himself into a corner? Frankâs heart thudded as he heard the gunmanâs footsteps on the wooden walk below.

Just out of reach, the overhanging roof of the hotel loomed in the blackness. There was no place else to go, so Frank leaped up for the edge.

His fingers dug into the broken shingles and he swung himself onto the rear slope of the snow-covered roof. Meanwhile, the hooded gunman had already started up the stairs. Frank heard his clattering footsteps as he reached the balcony platform. Then he saw the manâs hands appear, clutching the edge of the roof. A moment later his hooded head rose into view against the night sky! He was pulling himself up for a shot at close range!

Frank fought down a surge of panic. He had wriggled some distance away from the eaves. Now he must work his way back and try to overcome his assailant before the man could pull his gun.

Frank slithered toward him across the slippery shingles. By now the man had one leg up over the roof and was groping for the gun in his coat pocket.

âI wonât be able to reach him in time!â Frank thought grimly.

Just then he heard steps racing up the stairway to the balcony.

The gunman heard the footsteps, too. He paused and looked down, then managed to extract the gun from his pocket. An instant later Frank saw his body jerk, and the man clutched the roof edge as if to brace himself.

Evidently the newcomer was pulling the gunmanâs other leg, trying to dislodge him! The hooded figure suddenly gave a tremendous heave upward and the next moment was free, sprawled full length on the roof. Frank by now was close enough to grab the manâs coat sleeve.

The gunman threw up his arm and yanked it free. But the force of this action caused him to lose his grip completely! His gun arced through the air, hit the rear part of the roof, and bounced off. The man, meanwhile was rolling and slipping rapidly toward the edge.

Frank saw him clutch frantically for the gutter. The man caught it, hung suspended for a moment, then swung over to the drainpipe and slid down it to the ground.

âFrank! Are you all right?â It was Joe!

âIâm okay.â As quickly as possible, Frank wriggled toward the stairway side of the roof and dropped safely onto the balcony platform.

The Hardys glanced over the railing. Below, the hooded figure was groping about hastily, trying to find his gun.

âCome on, Joe! Letâs get him this time!â Frank urged, and the boys went bucketing down the stairs.

Hearing them, the man gave up his search and dashed off into the darkness. Their quarry was some distance ahead when Frank and Joe approached the inhabited part of Lucky Lode. But the town was so dimly lighted it was hard to keep the figure in view, except for his white hood.

The next moment the boys lost sight of him completely as he disappeared into the deep shadows around the general store. Nevertheless, Frank and Joe dashed in pursuit.

Reaching the store, they saw no one in front, so they ran to the back. The area was hidden in almost total darkness.

Suddenly Frank stiffened. âDid you hear something?â he muttered.

âYes. Sounded like a door closing.â

âCome on!â

The boys ran around to the front of the store. There were no lights showing. Joe grabbed the doorknob and shook it. The door was locked.

Frank knocked. The sound echoed loudly in the quiet of the deserted street. The boys waited for a few moments. When no one answered, Frank repeated his knock. He kept hammering on the door.

At last there was a response. From inside came the call, âJust a minute! Hold your horses!â

Presently a light showed, and a moment later Jim Burke came to the door, holding an oil lamp. He had pulled on a bathrobe over his long underwear.

âWell? Whatâs all the excitement about?â From the look on his face, Burke was not pleased at being disturbed at so late an hour. Frank explained why they had roused him.

âNope.â Burkeâs expression was puzzled as he shook his head. âI havenât seen or heard anyone âexcept you two.â

âCould the fellow weâre after have slipped in your back door?â Joe asked.

âNot a chance,â Burke replied. âI sleep right in the back room.â

As Burke spoke, the front door suddenly burst open and Bob Dodge strode in out of the windy darkness.

Frank and Joe stared at him. Dodgeâs outer garments were wet with snow, and his coat sleeves and trouser legs were covered with burrs!

CHAPTER VIII

Tommy-knockers!

THE same thought struck the Hardy boys. Did the burrs on Dodgeâs clothes mean he had been one of the people in the cemeteryâperhaps even the man they had chased? Excited, Frank and Joe watched the big manâs face closely.

But Dodge displayed no outward signs of guilt. âWhatâs all the shooting about?â he asked while brushing the snow off his coat.

Burke raised his eyebrows. âYou heard it?â

âI sure did,â the big, white-haired man replied. âI couldnât sleep tonight, so I went for a stroll up on the hillside. Then I heard two gunshots and I came down to investigate.â

âDid you see anybody, Mr. Dodge?â Frank put in.

âWell, not too clearly. I thought I glimpsed two people running in this direction. But when I got down to the street, there was no one in sight.â

âMustâve been these two lads,â the storekeeper said. âThey woke me up and told me some gun-slinger had been chasinâ âem through the ghost town. Didnât hear anythinâ myself,â Burke added, âbut I guess I was pretty sound asleep.â

Frank repeated the story they had told Burke. âWe were investigating what Ben Tinker had told us about the old dance hall being haunted,â Frank explained. âWhile we were inside the place, someone shot at us.â

âHe chased us for a while, and then we turned the tables and started chasing him,â Joe added. âWhoever the man was, he headed for the store.â

Dodge frowned worriedly. âYou boys seem to attract danger. I hope you wonât take any unnecessary chances on this case.â

âWeâll try not to,â Frank said. âThere isnât much more we can do tonight, anyhow.â

The Hardys started to leave. Just before they reached the door, Frank turned and said casually, âBy the way, does either of you know whatâs meant by a âslip gunâ?â

Dodge and Burke looked surprised, but otherwise their expressions seemed innocent enough.

âItâs a gun thatâs been fixed in a certain way so it can be fired by thumbing the hammer,â Dodge explained.

âYou mean like fanning?â Joe asked.

âNo. Fanning is when you hold the gun in one hand and keep knocking back the hammer with the other,â Dodge replied. âBut in slip shooting you fire the gun by simply wiping your thumb back over the hammer. Itâs a bit slower than fanning, but more accurate.â

âHow would a gun be fixed for slip shooting?â Frank put in.

Dodge shrugged. âOh, often the triggerâs taken out, and the hammer spur lowered. Sometimes a slip shooter may cut off part of the barrel so he can carry the gun in his pocket.â

âSounds like a real gunfighterâs trick,â Joe said.

âYou boys aiminâ to try it?â Burke grinned.

âNo,â Joe replied. âI just meant that a slip gun isnât something a law-abiding person would be apt to have around.â

âEver seen one?â Frank asked the two men.

Burke promptly shook his head. Dodge looked a bit startled, then answered slowly, âNo. Stop to think of it, I donât even recall where I acquired that information. One of those things you pick up in the West, I suppose.â

The boys said good-by and went out. The night was chillier than ever and the wind biting.

âWhere to?â Joe asked, pulling his jacket collar up for protection. âBack to Hankâs?â

âNot yet,â Frank said. âLetâs see if we can find that gun the hooded man dropped.â

âHey, thatâs right!â

As the two headed back toward the ghost town, Frank said thoughtfully, âLooks as though we now have two prime suspects, Joe.â

âRightâBurke, or Bob Dodge, which is hard to believe. But those burrs on his clothes sure looked suspicious.â

âDodge admitted he was on the hillside,â Frank pointed out. âI suppose the cemetery isnât the only place they grow.â

âYouâll have to admit, though, itâs a real coincidence,â Joe argued. âOn the other hand, Burke took a long time to open the door for us.â

Frank nodded. âLong enough to yank off a hood and get out of wet clothes. I wish we could have searched his back room.â

âAnother thing,â Joe went on, âthe general store would be a perfect setup for a spy of Big Alâs in Lucky Lode.â

âIt sure would,â Frank agreed. âBurke has a chance to learn everything that goes on. Whatâs more, he could relay telephone or telegraph messages between Big Al and members of the gang in other spotsâeven handle mail for them.â

âHe could provide Big Al with supplies, too, including that red paint.â

The boys trudged along in silence.

âWe can build just as strong a case against Dodge,â Frank said after a while. âIt seems strange to me that he keeps hanging around Lucky Lode, instead of tending to his business in Helena.â

âIâve wondered about that, too,â Joe conceded, âeven though he claims to be staying here on account of the case Dadâs working on. If Dodge is in cahoots with the gang, he may be keeping an eye on the gangâs doings. Also, he could be using the copter to transport supplies to the crooks.â

âAnd donât forget that shotgun booby trap at the airport,â Frank added. âDodge sent us to the copter aloneâwhich could mean he wanted to make sure he wasnât in range when the gun went off.â

Joe frowned. âBut would a company president plot with a crook to rob his own truck?â

âWhy not? The money was covered by insurance. And he might have hired Dad to allay suspicion.â

As the boys neared the old abandoned hotel, they watched the display of northern lights sweeping across the sky.

âYou know, Frank,â Joe said slowly, âthereâs one big thing in Dodgeâs favor.â

âWhatâs that?â

âDad likes him.â

âYouâre right,â Frank agreed. âFrom the way Dad spoke last night, he really admires Dodgeâand Dadâs a good judge of character. He never would have talked about Dodge as he did if he suspected him.â

Making their way through the side yard to the back of the hotel, the Hardys switched on their flashlights and began searching for the gun.

Presently Joe exclaimed, âHere it is!â The revolver lay in a clump of undergrowth. Joe picked it up carefully by the trigger guard.

âItâs a slip gun, all right,â Frank commented. âNo trigger, and the barrelâs been cut short.â

âThat means Slip Gun is the man we followed from the cemetery! Heâs Big Alâs spy.â

âYes,â Frank agreed. âYou know, JoeâDodge might have been the person we heard following us.â

âMaybe, but thereâs no way to be sure,â Joe pointed out. âSlip Gun is a husky fellow, and Dodge and Burke are both big men. Either one would answer the description.â

âTrue enough,â Frank conceded. âBesides, if Dodge did follow us, why didnât he admit it?â

When the Hardys got back to the cabin, both their father and Hank were sleeping soundly. Frank and Joe checked the slip gun for fingerprints, but found none clear enough to photograph. Evidently the hooded manâs gloved hand had smudged any that might have existed before the nightâs events.

The brothers undressed quickly and crawled into their bunks. As Joe blew out the oil lamp, Frank yawned and said sleepily, âWonder what âShadow of the Bearâ means?â

âMe too. Something else to track downââ Joeâs voice trailed off and he was fast asleep.

Neither boy needed an alarm clock. They got up at dawn without disturbing the men and had a quick breakfast. Then they went outside, saddled up their horses, and mounted.

âDo you have Hankâs sketch of the mines?â Joe asked as they started up the hill.

âRight here.â Frank patted his pocket. âI wish we still had Mike Onslowâs map.â

âPoor Mike!â Joe reined in his skittish horse. âI wish we could find at least some of his missing gold.â

âSo do I.â Frank added with a chuckle, âIâll bet Aunt Gertrude is fussing over him right now like a mother hen.â

When the boys reached the top of the hill, they could see the sunlight starting to work its way over Windy Peak. âLucky Slip Gun didnât stop us,â said Joe as they halted to study the map.

Bradyâs Mine, they found, was located to the north, not far away. Half an hourâs ride brought them to a point somewhere below the mine site. Here the boys dismounted and led their horses carefully up the slope.

Frank and Joe scouted the area, but could see nobody, nor any tracks in the snow.

âLetâs take a look inside,â Joe suggested.

The boys tied their horses to a clump of bushes a hundred yards from the mouth of the mine. After making sure their flashlights were working, they cautiously approached the dark hole in the edge of the hill.

The mine entrance was big enough for them to walk erect. Inside, the Hardys paused to listen, then snapped on their flashlights. They were in a fair-sized cavern, which had been hacked and blasted out of the mountainside. Just ahead, a tunnel sloped downward into darkness.

Among the rubble on the floor were some lengths of rusty iron pipe and a discarded pick with a broken handle.

âDoesnât look as if anyone has been here in a long time,â Joe murmured. His voice echoed weirdly in the chilly cavern.

Frank was about to reply when suddenly both boys stiffened. âDid you hear something?â he whispered.

âI sure did!â

As the brothers froze into silence, the sound came againâtap ... tap-tap ... tap.

âSpirits!â Joe gasped. âTommy-knockers!â

CHAPTER IX

The Crowbar Clue

THE tapping noises from within the mine died away. Frank and Joe looked at each other uncertainly.

âYou donât really believe that superstition about spirit rapping?â Frank muttered.

âOf course not,â Joe whispered. âIt did sound spooky, though.â

âMore likely itâs Big Alâs gang,â Frank said, peering around intently.

Joeâs face took on a troubled frown. âBut there were no prints outside showing that anyone else had come here.â

âMaybe thereâs another entrance,â Frank argued. âLetâs find out.â

The two boys started forward into the tunnel. Its walls and ceiling were shored with ancient timbers that gave out a smell of moldy dampness. The passageway not only sloped downward, but turned and twisted. Evidently it had been tunneled out to follow the vein of ore.

Presently the floor of the passage leveled off. The Hardys probed the darkness ahead with the yellow glow of their flashlights. Still there was no sign of the tunnel coming to an end or opening out into a large excavation.

âHow far does this go?â Joe said tensely.

âIt has to end somewhere,â Frank replied.

Both boys felt their nerves tauten. The eerie stillness was broken only by the sound of their footsteps echoing hollowly through the tunnel.

Suddenly Frank came to a halt and pointed to the handle of a crowbar protruding from between two of the wall timbers. The bar was painted with bright-red markings. The Hardys bent close to examine them.

Â 

AL-5-X-*-4

ââAllââ Joe read. âThis may be a code message from Big Al to the gang!â

âOr maybe a message to Big Al,â Frank countered. He tested one of the red daubs with his finger. The paint was dry but looked fresh enough to have been applied recently.

Joe tried to puzzle out the meaning of the message. âAny ideas, Frank?â

The older boy shook his head. âBeats meâunless,â he added slowly, âthe crowbar was put here to mark a certain spot in the mine.â

âMaybe somethingâs hidden behind the timbers!â Joe conjectured excitedly.

Frank doubted this. âThese shorings look as if theyâve been here forever.â

âLetâs make sure,â Joe urged. âWeâll want to take the crowbar along with us, anyhow, so we can check it for clues. Hold my flashlight, will you?â

Gripping the handle carefully, so that at least part of the surface could be tested later for fingerprints, Joe yanked hard on the crowbar. It gave scarcely at all. He threw his whole weight into the effort and began forcing the bar from side to side. The timbering creaked ominously.

âHey, be careful!â Frank warned. âThis tunnel isnât shored up too solidly along here!â

âDonât worryâI can get the bar out.â Joe grunted, heaving hard. âItâs coming now!â

The rotten wood crumpled and shredded as the crowbar gouged into it. Suddenly, as Joe gave one last hard yank, there was a loud splintering noise. The ceiling sagged.

âLook out!â Frank cried out. He grabbed Joeâs arm, and both boys leaped ahead in the nick of time.

A split second later the tunnel caved in! As the boys dashed to safety, tons of earth and rock came pouring down. The passageway rumbled and thundered with the deafening impact.

âGood grief!â Joe stared back in awe after he and his brother had come to a halt deeper inside the tunnel. âI should have listened to your warning, Frank!â

âForget it. Letâs be thankful neither of us got hurt and that I still have our flashlights.â

Both boys coughed and tried to screen their noses from the cloud of dust billowing through the passage. Gradually the particles settled.

âHow do we get out of here?â Joe asked worriedly. âDig our way through?â

The brothers strode back toward the scene of the cave-in. The tunnel there was totally blocked by the tremendous fall of dirt and rock.

âWhat about the crowbar?â Frank asked suddenly. âWe can use that.â

âI dropped it,â Joe admitted, red-faced. âItâs somewhere underneath all this rubble.â

âOh, great.â

âMaybe we can still dig through,â Joe said. âCome onâletâs try!â

The Hardys set their flashlights on the ground, then began clawing away the debris with their hands. Soon the boys were panting and soaked with perspiration. In addition to loose dirt and stones, huge hunks of rock had broken off and been carried downward in the cave-in.

After trying vainly to shift one enormous stone fragment, Frank and Joe gave up in despair.

âWeâll never make it,â Frank said, breathing hard. âWe donât even know how far the cave-in extends.â

Tons of earth and rock came pouring down

Joe leaned against the wall to collect his strength. âThat means weâll have to find another way out of here.â

âIf there is one.â

Although neither boy said so aloud, they knew their situation was desperate. Bradyâs Mine was only one of the places on Hankâs map which they had picked out to search and they had told no one of the clue they had overheard. No doubt a search party would be organized when they failed to return. But how long would they be trapped underground before help might arrive?

âNo use standing here,â Frank said finally. âLetâs find out where the tunnel leads.â

âRight. Weâre getting fresh air, so there must be an exit.â

Using only one flashlight in order to conserve their battery power, the Hardys pressed on.

âJoe, thereâs another reason why well find an exit,â Frank said suddenly. âI believe someone from the gang was doing that tapping. If so, he must have been on this side of the cave-in.â

âSureâand the noises we heard were the sounds of the crowbar being pounded into position,â Joe guessed.

âLetâs hope he hasnât heard us,â Frank murmured. âAnd the chances are there was more than one member of the gang here.â

âProbably they scooted out the other entrance, so they wouldnât be caught in the cave-in,â Joe reasoned. âBut weâd better talk in whispers just the same.â

Both boys realized also that the flashlight beam would make them easy targets. But they had no choice. Without a light to guide them, there would be no hope of finding a way out through the inky darkness.

Presently the tunnel widened, opening into a sizable cavern. The Hardys held their breath as Frank swept his flashlight beam rapidly about the chamber. He and Joe were ready to dive to the floor or retreat at the first sign of an enemy. But the cavern was empty.

âLook!â Frank exclaimed. âAnother tunnel!â He aimed his light toward a dark hole that gaped in the far wall.

The two boys hurried to examine it. This passageway was narrower than the one they had just left and not shored by timbers. It was high enough for the Hardys to walk erect, but in places they found it a tight squeeze.

This time, Joe took the lead. Although the tunnel twisted and turned, he pressed forward steadily. He became aware that the cool draft was growing stronger.

âFeel the breeze?â Joe called back over his shoulder. âWe must be near the end.â

Joe had spoken too soon. They turned a sharp corner and the tunnel ended in a sheer wall of solid rock.

They could go no farther!

The boys shone their flashlights upward. There was nothing to see but the rock roof.

Joe gave a groan and sank down on the rocky floor of the tunnel. âWhatâll we do now?â

For a few minutes the brothers sat in silence. Then suddenly Frank leaped to his feet. âThe draft!â he said.

âWhat about it?â

âWeâve passed the opening.â

Frank snapped on his light and started back down the tunnel. Joe scrambled to his feet and followed. As they moved back around the bend again, they could feel the movement of air on their cheeks.

âThe air current seems to flow from somewhere up above,â Frank said, aiming his light toward the roof.

âIt does!â Joe exclaimed. âSee that crack?â

High overhead, well out of reach, was a rocky shelf protruding from the wall. Frank grabbed a handful of dust and tossed it up to the shelf. Some dropped on the edge, but the rest remained in the air and then slowly drifted away out of sight.

âThatâs it!â Joe said excitedly. âThereâs something beyond! It must lead to an exit.â

Frank braced himself against the wall. âUp you go, Joe!â

Quickly Joe climbed to his brotherâs shoulders and found he could easily reach the rocky shelf. Joe gripped the edge and pulled himself upward. Then he lay on his stomach and, reaching down, grasped Frankâs hand in a firemanâs grip. A second later Frank was seated beside Joe.

When the Hardys turned, they found still another tunnel facing them. This one slanted upward from the shelf and was too low-roofed for anyone to walk upright. Aiming their lights ahead, the boys crawled on hands and knees through the cramped area.

Presently a glimmer of daylight showed ahead. Joe was about to exclaim in relief when a murmur of voices suddenly reached the boysâ ears.

The Hardys knelt motionless and looked at each other. Were members of the gang just outside the tunnel exit waiting for them?

Frank put a finger to his lips. Without a word the boys resumed their crawlingâbut more slowly and quietly nowâtoward the mouth of the passage.

Near the opening they halted. A voice which Frank and Joe recognized as that of the thin man they had overheard at the cemetery was saying:

âThose kids ought to be showinâ any time now, if the cave-in didnât get âem.â

Then another man, deeper-voiced, chuckled. âIf it didnât, weâll trap âem like rats cominâ out of a hole!â

CHAPTER X

Ambush Trail

A PANG of fear shot through Frank and Joe as they realized they were trapped in the mine. A clump of brush partly screened the tunnel mouth, but the Hardysâ enemies were waiting outsideâready to seize the boys the moment they appeared!

Scarcely daring to breathe, the boys listened as the thin man went on: âI figured it was them Hardys eavesdroppinâ at the graveyard last night.â He laughed. âPretty smart oâ me givinâ out that hint about Bradyâs Mine, eh?â

âThey fell for it, all right,â his partner agreed. âAnd that crowbar business, too, with the phony code. Best part is, itâll look accidental.â

The boys heard a deep-throated chuckle. Joe shot a shamefaced glance at his brother. The crowbar must have been painted to attract their attention and then cunningly planted at a weakly shored part of the tunnel!

The thin man continued, âIâll really get a kick out oâ payinâ off those brats. Big Al was plenty sore at me âcause that shotgun setup in the copter didnât work out.â

ââTwasnât your fault, Slim.â

âTry tellinâ that to Al. He was mad over Slip Gun not gettinâ the kids last night. Now he blames me for wastinâ time this morninââ

âHow come?â

âAw, that special business he keeps harpinâ on âitâs all he thinks about. He wanted us to do some searchinâ elsewhere today, but the Hardys cominâ here changed his plans.â

There was silence for a while. Frank and Joe waited tensely, digesting what they had overheard. Then Slim spoke again.

âWonder how much longer we'll have to wait? Iâm gettinâ fed up, perchinâ here in this cold.â

âMaybe the kids canât find their way out,â his partner suggested. âIf they ainât dead already, that is.â

âYou sure the tunnel caved in, Jake?â

âSure. Sounded like an earthquake. I could see the dust cominâ out the front end.â

âDid you make certain the tunnel was completely blocked?â Slim asked.

âWell, I didnât actually go inside and look. I mightâve got trapped. Besides, they didnât show up!â

âYou chowderhead!â Slim exploded irritably. âIf it ainât blocked, the kids may still be able to squirm out. Go on back and make sure.â

âOkay, okay.â Jake sounded as if he were getting to his feet.

âWait! Got another idea. You fetch their horses and bring âem back here before you check the tunnel,â Slim added. âThat way, thereâll be no chance oâ the Hardys pullinâ a sneak.â

After warning Joe to silence, Frank wriggled forward and peered out through the screen of brush. In the distance he could see Jakeâs stocky figure heading down the snow-covered mountainside on his way to the mine entrance.

Frank was astonished at how far Jake had gone in a few seconds. Since the two men had conversed in low voices, the speakers had sounded as if they were fairly close to the clump of brush. Now Frank realized his mistake.

The opening was on one side of a narrow draw. Slim was evidently perched out of sight, somewhere higher up the mountainsideâprobably holding a rifle to cover the boys.

The two men must have thought their conversation was inaudible to anyone else, but the steep-sided draw had caused an echo effect, trapping their voices and reflecting the sound back toward the tunnel.

Frank signaled his brother to crawl forward and join him. Stealthily Joe complied. Several minutes later Jake returned, leading the boysâ horses. Slim came down the slope to meet him.

âNo sign of âem,â the Hardys heard Jake report.

âCheck inside the tunnel,â Slim told his partner. âIf they didnât get buried by the cave-in, weâre supposed to takeâem up to Windy Peak.â

The thugs exchanged one or two other remarks, but their conversation was carried away by a surge of icy wind sweeping down the draw.

Jake turned and started off again, heading back to the mine entrance. Slim threw a glance toward the clump of brush to make sure their quarry had not yet emerged. Then he took the boysâ horses and trudged toward a stunted, leafless tree growing out of the mountainside.

âLetâs jump him!â Joe urged.

Frank had noticed that the man wore a long barreled revolver in a holster slung at his hip. If he had a rifle, he must have left it at the spot where he and Jake had been waiting.

âItâs risky, but weâll try,â Frank agreed.

The moaning of the wind would help cover the sound of their footsteps in the snow, and Slimâs back was turned as he prepared to tether the horses to the tree. Jake was already out of sight behind a shoulder of the hill.

âItâs now or never!â Frank hissed.

Slithering from the hole and past the screen of brush, the boys darted across the slope. They were halfway to the man when one of the horses suddenly detected the boys and whinnied.

Slim muttered an oath and jerked the horse roughly by its bridle. He seemed to realize that something behind him had startled the animal.

The man whirled, his hand streaking toward the gun at his hip. At the same moment, Frank hurled himself through the air in a flying tackle. Just as Slim yanked his gun from its holster, Frank rammed into him!

In an instant Joe had joined the fray. He stunned. Slim with a backhand smash to the side of the head. As the thug went limp, his revolver arced into the air and went hurtling down the mountainside.

âCome on! Grab your horse!â Joe urged. âWeâve got to get out of here before Jake finds out what happened and starts firing at us.â

The boys quickly untied their mounts and swung into the saddles. The horses whinnied, then went galloping down the draw as Frank and Joe dug their heels into the horsesâ flanks.

Frank threw a glance over his shoulder just in time to see Slim staggering to his feet. The manâs face was livid with fury.

âJake!â he bawled at the top of his lungs. âThe Hardy kids are gettinâ away!â

His voice trailed off and was lost against the wind. Moments later a rifle crack echoed, but by now the boys were well out of range.

âDid you spot the menâs horses?â Joe called.

âUp the mountainside, I think,â Frank yelled back. âWeâd better not count on a big lead!â

The boys pushed their mounts hard, taking desperate chances along the rocky declivities. No sounds of pursuit reached their ears, and gradually Frank and Joe slowed their pace.

In about twenty minutes they topped the ridge overlooking Lucky Lode and rode down the trail into town. As their horses clip-clopped along the main street toward Hankâs cabin, Frank asked, âDid you hear what that fellow Slim said about taking us to Windy Peak?â

âI sure did,â Joe returned. âIt could mean thatâs Alâs hideout. Letâs search there.â

Frank nodded. âItâll be an overnight trip. Weâll need supplies.â

The boys were surprised to find a battered blue station wagon parked in front of their cabin.

âDoc Whitlowâs here,â Hank explained when they went inside. âHeâs in with your pa now.â

âIs Dad worse?â Frank asked, concerned.

âNot exactly, but he spent a kind oâ restless night. And this morninâ he felt like he was runninâ a slight fever. So I fetched the doc.â

Minutes later the physician, a young man with a brown beard, emerged from Mr. Hardyâs room.

âNothing to worry about,â Doc Whitlow announced. âApparently your father overexerted himself yesterday and irritated the fracture.â

âHe shouldnât have worked on the wall,â Frank said.

âI gave him something to ease the pain,â the doctor said. âHeâs sleeping now.â

Doc Whitlow declined Hankâs offer of lunch, saying he had to get back to his office in the nearby town of Bear Creek. After he had left, Hank prepared a meal of beans and frankfurters and sat down to eat with Frank and Joe.

âYou boys just missed seeinâ Bob Dodge,â he remarked.

âWhen was he here?â Joe asked.

âJust a while âfore you two showed up. Sayâyou boys look like you been through the mill. What happened?â

The Hardys related all that had taken place the night before, as well as the entrapment at Bradyâs Mine and their narrow escape from the two gang members, Slim and Jake. Hank, too, was puzzled by the Shadow of the Bear reference. The boys asked him to pass on a full report to their father.

âYou mean you wonât be around to tell him?â

âWeâre going up to investigate Windy Peak,â Frank replied. âThe sooner the better.â

A worried look spread over the Westernerâs leathery face. He urged the boys to be extremely cautious, now that the gang was clearly trying to get rid of them. He agreed to provide supplies for the trip, however, and to lend them his mare Daisy for use as a pack horse. Soon the boys were ready to start.

âWhatâs the easiest way to get up Windy Peak, Hank?â asked Joe as he tightened the cinch.

âThere ainât no easy way this time oâ year,â the man replied. âYouâll have to take an old Indian path called Ambush Trail, up near Bradyâs Mine. Starts about half a mile north oâ the mine entrance. But watch your step.â

âBad going?â Frank put in.

âPlenty bad. Even in summer, that trailâs full oâ narrow ledges and hairpin turns. Now itâll be lots worse. We had a freak thaw early this month that probably loosened quite a few boulders. Some places youâll be on icy ledges lookinâ straight down the side of a cliff.â

Hankâs warning proved to be fully justified. At first the trail seemed fairly easy, but as they left the timberline behind, the path narrowed and wound confusingly in and out among the rocky outcrops on the face of the mountainside.

âIâll bet even the Indians got lost sometimes on this snaky trail,â Joe remarked wryly.

On their left the mountain towered sheer above them, with precariously poised boulders and crusted drifts of snow. Half-dislodged clumps of earth and rock projected from the cliffside.

âThis would be a bad place to get caught in an avalanche,â Frank observed.

Joe gulped. âWhew! Donât even think it!â

Presently the boys saw horseshoe prints in the snow. Apparently the riders, whoever they were, had cut in from some side path.

âAt least we seem to be on the right trail,â Joe said tensely.

âProbably members of the gang,â Frank cautioned. âWeâd better keep a sharp eye out.â

The prints faded out presently as the path became more glazed and rocky. Soon the trail narrowed so much that the boys were forced to proceed single file. Both gulped as they glanced down the cliff at the icy river below.

Joe was close behind when Frank turned a sharp corner on the trail and reined to a halt. Ahead was a huge barrier of snow, rocks, and logs.

âMust have been an avalanche,â Joe said.

Frank moved forward for a better look. âMaybe not,â he commented. âThose logs donât look like windfallsâthey could have been cut by men. Anyhowâour trail is blocked.â

After sizing up the situation, Frank and Joe decided to risk skirting the curve of the hillside, which seemed less steep at this point.

âMaybe we can get back on the trail somewhere beyond the barrier,â Joe said hopefully.

Dismounting, the Hardys started cautiously downward. Frank went first, leading his horse and Daisy. Joe followed with his mount.

For a while the footing seemed fairly sure. The Hardys had negotiated their way around part of the slope when Frank suddenly felt the ground shifting beneath his feet.

âLook out, Joe!â he cried out. âThereâs loose shale under this snow!â

A spatter of stones and earth went clattering down the mountainside. As the brothers scrambled for safer ground, their mounts became panicky, neighing and pawing wildly for a foothold.

The horsesâ bucking dislodged still more shale. The next instant, the horses and the boys went slipping and sliding downward in the landslide. All three of the animals went over on their sides in a swirl of flying hoofs.

Frank and Joe were half stunned as they tumbled on down the mountain. Below was an icy creek. Suddenly they were sailing through the air.

Crash! ... Crash!

The Hardys and their horses shattered the ice and disappeared below the surface of the mountain torrent!

CHAPTER XI

Shadow of the Bear

THE icy shock of the water stung the Hardys back to full consciousness. They flailed their arms and legs wildly, fighting to get to the surface.

Frank broke water first, gasping for breath. His heart skipped when he saw nothing but the half-frozen river, the struggling horses, and the steep-sided canyon. Where was Joe?

Then his brother bobbed to the surface nearby. âThank goodness,â Frank murmured.

Neither boy had breath to spare to make himself heard above the roar of the rushing current. The ice extended outward from both banks, but near the center, the water was surging along in full torrent. With every passing moment, Frank and Joe were being swept farther downstream.

Joe pointed to the horses. The two saddle animals were breaking their way through the ice, gradually swimming and floundering toward shore. Daisy, the elderly pack mare, loaded down with supplies, was having a more difficult time.

âShe may drown!â Frank thought fearfully.

He and Joe summoned all their strength and swam toward the frantic animals. In a few minutes their own horses managed to reach the bank. Daisy was rolling her eyes, whinnying and snorting with terror. But Frank and Joe were finally able to steer her to safety through the broken ice.

At last the boys staggered out of the water and flopped down on the rocky, snow-covered bank. The saddle horses stood shaking themselves farther up the shore, and Daisy trotted on to join them.

âWow!â Joe took a deep breath. âWhat a day for a swim!â

âJoe, weâre pretty lucky, at that.â Frank got up. âWeâd better see about the supplies.â

âAnd a fireâif we can make one,â Joe added.

Both boys were shivering and blue with cold. They hurried toward the horses. At least half the provisions and gear strapped to Daisyâs back had come loose and had been carried away.

âLetâs get out of sight first,â Joe suggested. âSomeone may be spying on us from up on the mountain.â

âRight!â Frank agreed. âIâm sure now that the barrier on the trail was no accident.â

The brothers led the horses toward some sheltering timber. Just beyond the trees they discovered a rocky recess in the mountainside. Here they grouped the horses and proceeded to survey the state of their supplies.

âWell,â Joe said, âat least itâs not so bad as it might have been.â

Most of their provisions were gone, as well as their tent and other camp equipment. But they had blankets, towels, spare clothing, fishing gear, compass, matches, and some food. Luckily, everything had been packed in waterproof wrapping.

âIâm sure glad we still have that compass,â Frank remarked, as the boys unsaddled the horses and used the towels to rub down the animals.

âYou bet,â Joe agreed. âIf we should lose our bearings in this wilderness with our food so low, weâd really be in a jam.â

âYou build a fire, Joe,â Frank suggested, âwhile I get out dry clothes for us.â

After donning fresh clothing in the warmth from the crackling flames, and drying their windbreakers, the Hardys soon felt more comfortable. Their horses recovered rapidly and began to nibble the shrubs and winter-dry brush sticking up through the snow.

Frank stepped out of their rocky niche and shaded his eyes toward the sun, which was already red and low in the sky. In another half hour it would be out of sight behind the mountains.

âToo late to do much traveling now,â said Frank. âWe may as well camp here and strike out for Windy Peak early in the morning.â

âOkay, Frank. Iâll try some fishing. That looks like a trout stream.â

He put their collapsible fishing rod together and headed off among the trees toward the bank of the river.

âWatch your step on that ice!â Frank called.

As Joe disappeared from view, his brother took out their precious compass. Using the setting sun as a reference, he checked the action of the needle to see if any magnetic ore in the range might be affecting it. The deviation, if any, seemed to be very slight.

âItâs a cinch weâll never get back up the cliff to the trail,â Frank thought. âAt least not here. Weâll have to follow the river and try to find some place where the canyon walls are not so steep.â

âFrank! Frank!â It was Joe calling from the river. âHelp! Frank, help!â

âThe ice!â Frank thought. âJoeâs broken through!â

Laying the compass on a flat rock, the older Hardy dashed toward the river. To Frankâs amazement, Joe was in no danger. But he was sprawled flat on the ice, clinging desperately to the rod and trying not to lose the prize catch he had hooked. The fish had sounded and was bending the rod almost to a U-shape as it fought to escape.

âQuick! Give me a hand!â Joe shouted.

Frank flat-footed gingerly out onto the ice, grabbed the line, and began hauling in.

âI guess weâre breaking all the rules for game fishing,â he called back with a chuckle, âbut this is one fellow we canât risk losing!â

The fish put up a furious struggle that roused the boysâ admiration, but they finally managed to reel in a huge cutthroat trout.

âBoy, what a swell catch!â Frank cried. âThereâs our supper!â

âFirst fish that ever decked me,â Joe said, grinning. âBut then itâs the first time Iâve ever tried trout fishing on ice.â

Back at camp, Joe set about cleaning the fish while Frank built up the fire. Suddenly Joe heard his brother gasp.

âWhatâs wrong?â

âThe compass!â Frank exclaimed. âI left it right here on this flat rock. Now itâs gone!â

âAre you sure?â

âPositive. I put it exactly where this pine cone is. Wait a minute! That wasnât here before!â Frank broke off and picked up the pine cone. An exasperated look spread over his face. âYou know what, Joe? A pack rat has been here!â

âIâll bet youâre right!â Joe declared. âThe rat picked up the compass because itâs bright and shiny, and left the pine cone in its place.â

The Hardys looked at each other gravely. Any other time the situation might have been funny, but right now the compass was vital to them. Without it, they might never find their way safely out of the wilderness.

âCome on! Letâs look for it!â Frank urged. âI remember reading that pack rats will often drop a prize if something else catches their eye.â

The boys began a systematic search, pacing back and forth around the camp in widening circles. At last Frank detected some faint rodent tracks in the trampled snow and soon spotted a shiny object in the cliffside brush.

Frank pounced on the compass with a cry of relief. âWhew!â he exclaimed. âWhat a break!â

âBetter keep it in your pocket from now on,â Joe advised.

The trout, cooked over heated rocks, made a tasty dish. After the meal, the boys felt more cheerful. As they huddled around the campfire in their blankets, Frank said thoughtfully, âTomorrowâs the day for Big Alâs meeting.â

âRight. I wish we could find the place.â

âIf only we knew what Shadow of the Bear meant,â Frank mused.

In spite of the cold and their desperate situation, the boys slept well. The horses, too, evidently rested well during the night, staying close together near the embers of the fire.

Next morning Frank and Joe made a cold breakfast of oatmeal mush and dried apricots from their scanty supplies. Then they fed and saddled the horses, strapped their remaining gear on Daisyâs back, and headed downriver.

The canyon turned and twisted along the curve of the mountainside, and the footing was treacherous. As they rode, the Hardys continually scanned the sides of the gorge, hoping to find a route out of the canyon. Twice they dismounted and tried to thread their way upward, leading the horses. But both times the cliff wall proved too steep.

At last, however, the canyon opened out and the slope of the cliffs became more gentle. Relieved, Frank and Joe halted for another cold meal. Then they rode to higher ground and struck back across the rolling foothills of the mountain range in the general direction of town.

Eventually they cut into a beaten trail. About midafternoon, the brothers swung over a rise on the rocky, snow-covered path and Frank reined up sharply.

âLook!â he exclaimed, and indicated the area to their right.

Looming against the sky was a huge, ungainly rock formation that crudely resembled a bear standing upright.

âAlâs meeting place!â Joe breathed.

Dismounting, the boys ground-hitched their horses out of sight behind a clump of boulders. Then they crept cautiously toward the huge rock formation. To their surprise, Frank and Joe discovered that it was poised on the rim of a small box canyon.

The Hardys cautiously peered over the edge. The canyon was choked with drifted snow, from which protruded a few scrubby trees and brush. The view directly below was blocked by a shelving overhang of rock, about twenty feet farther down and extending along the cliff wall. The boys could detect no sign or sound of human beings.

âMaybe we missed the meeting,â Joe murmured. âOr this isnât the place, after all.â

âIâll bet it is,â Frank replied. âMy guess is, the confab hasnât been held yet.â He gazed across the canyon. âLetâs keep an eye on that bearâs shadow.â

In the lowering sun the rock formation cast a formless shadow on the opposite wall. As the boys stood up, Joe remarked with a puzzled look, âThat shadow doesnât look much like a bear.â

âTrue. But it might at some other time of day. Remember, Slim didnât name any hour for the meeting. He just said, âShadow of the Bear.â â

âI get it!â Joe broke in excitedly. âMaybe the meeting is to take place when the bear shows up clearly on the canyon wall!â

âAnd that ought to be when the sun drops a little lower,â Frank added.

Joe asked, âDo you think the meeting will be down inside the canyon?â

âProbably. Up here by this rock formation the gang would be too easy to spot.â

âBut this looks like a blind canyon to me,â Joe objected. âHowâll they get into it?â

âThere may be an entrance we canât see from here. Letâs stay out of sight.â

The boys found cover in a nearby cluster of rocks and brush. As the sun sank lower, the bearâs shadow across the canyon became more distinct and realistic.

âListen!â Joe whispered suddenly.

From somewhere below came a clopping of horsesâ hoofsâthen a sound of men reining up and dismounting. The Hardys peered downward, but the rocky overhang of the canyon prevented them from seeing what was taking place.

A murmur of voices came drifting up. The boys strained their ears and recognized Slimâs voice, but could not make out what he was saying. Then a harsh voice, unfamiliar to the Hardys, spoke out clearly:

âYou sure muffed things in Lucky Lode, Slip Gun!â

âI couldnât help it, Big Al,â returned a voice too muffled to identify.

âOne more job like that and Iâllââ the harsh tone faded to a threatening mutter.

Frank and Joe could hardly keep from shouting for joy. They had found Big Al! If only they could dare to try capturing him!

CHAPTER XII

Big Alâs Orders

THE only reply to Big Alâs scornful words was a brief, sullen mutter. It was so low that the Hardys could not distinguish whether the speaker might have been Burke or Bob Dodge.

Frank and Joe exchanged a grimace of disappointment. If only the Lucky Lode spy would speak again, and more loudly! But evidently he was too cowed by his bossâs angry tone to put up an argument.

âStupid cluck!â Big Al continued to rant. âYou had a chance to get rid of those kidsâor at least scare âem off this case. And what happens? You get so rattled you canât even hang onto your own gun!â

âDonât worry, AlââJakeâs voice cut in quickly, trying to placate the gang leaderââSlim and me took care oâ them brats.â

âAt Bradyâs Mine?â the boss snapped back.

âWell, noânot there. The crowbar stunt worked okay, but they ducked the cave-in andââ

Jakeâs explanation was cut short by another outburst from Big Al. Slim hastened to soothe him.

âJakeâs tryinâ to tell you, bossâtheyâre both drowned.â

âDrowned?â

âYeah. We figured theyâd be cominâ along Ambush Trail, so we fixed up a roadblock to sidetrack âem and make âem go lower down. The cliff shoulder along there is all loose shale, but itâs covered over with snow. Sure enough, they tried to worm around it and the ground gave way. Mustâve been a regular landside from the looks of it!â Slim chuckled with satisfaction. âAnyhow, they took a long fall and wound up in the drink, horses and all.â

âYou sure oâ that?â Big Al demanded suspiciously.

âSure. Jake and me came back to check and we could see the break in the ice where they went through. We even spotted some oâ their gear float-inâ downriver.â

âGood! Itâs about time.â Big Al sounded mollified by the news. âThose kids knew too muchâand they were too smart to fool around with. They were makinâ monkeys out of all you guys!â

âAw, boss, we couldnât help it ifââ The rest of Jakeâs whining protest was lost in the wind.

âShut up!â Big Al roared. âOne thingâs sure âanything those kids knew, theyâve told their father. So heâll have to be the next one to go. Slip Gun, youâre supposed to be handlinâ things in town. You take care of Hardy tonight. Get me?â

âYeah.â Only a single wordâand again too low for the voice to be identified.

Frank and Joe looked at each other, stunned. The gang had their father marked for death! They would have to return in time to warn him!

âThe weatherâs gettinâ worse all the time, boss,â Slim put in. âHow much longer do we have to keep searchinâ?â

âListen, you!â Big Alâs voice was fierce. âI staked out that loot twenty-five years ago. And I aim to have it! Weâre goinâ to keep lookinâ till we find the wreck of a plane. The stuffâll be there, all rightâand a skeleton with it.â

âHow do you know thereâs a wreck?â Jake asked.

âDonât worryâI made sure.â Big Al gave an ugly chuckle. Again his rough voice drifted up to the listeners on the cliff. âEnough talkinâ. Get these supply cartons cut open and load the horses. Weâll leave part of the stores cached here and take the rest up to the hideout.â

From below came the sound of cardboard boxes being ripped open, and the mumble of the menâs voices. Suddenly Frank and Joe heard an exclamation of annoyance.

âWhatâs wrong now?â Big Al snarled.

âLooks like Slip Gun just broke his knife blade,â Jake replied.

Before the unidentified man could add anything, the gang leader snapped curtly, âNever mind gripinâ! Use your fingers!â

Presently they could hear the men loading the horses. A few moments later the boys heard Big Alâs harsh tones: âYouâve all had your orders. Now letâs get gainâ!â

Horsesâ hoofs started up on a rocky surface somewhere belowâthen faded bit by bit, echoing hollowly.

Joe grabbed his brotherâs arm. âThere must be a passage from the canyon that leads out through the hill!â he whispered excitedly.

âRight! Weâd better get back to the trail and see if we can spot them!â

Frank led the way as the brothers hurried back to the site from which they had first noticed the bearlike rock formation. Sprawling among the snow and rocks to avoid being seen, the Hardys gazed intently down the hillside.

For a long while there was no sign of humans. The sun had vanished behind clouds, leaving a leaden, wintry sky. Nothing was visible below but the vast, rugged expanse of timber-clad wilderness.

Joe fidgeted anxiously. âThose fellows canât just disappear!â he muttered. âTheyâll have to come out somewhââ

Frank held up his hand for silence. âThere they are!â he whispered.

Far below and off to the right, four riders had emerged from a patch of brush on the hillside. They paused momentarily, then separated. Three of the men rode upward through a notch in the hills. The fourth headed off in the direction of Lucky Lode, leading an empty pack horse behind his mount.

âThat one by himself must be Slip Gun!â Joe groaned. âIf only we had binoculars to see who he is!â

âMaybe we can overtake him,â Frank said hopefully. âAnyhow, the important thing is to get to the cabin and warn Dad. Letâs go!â

Quickly the boys got their horses, swung into the saddles, and started off along the trail. They watched for a safe place to descend the hillside and soon picked out a likely route. The downslope, even here, was steep and slippery, but their horses managed to negotiate it successfully.

Minutes later, Frank and Joe picked up Slip Gunâs trail in the snow. By this time the spy was far ahead and lost to view among the timber.

As the boys rode along, Joe fumed impatiently. âWeâll lose him if we donât make better time!â he said, urging his horse to greater speed.

âTake it easy, Joe,â Frank advised. âThis ground is pretty rough going for the horsesâ theyâre doing the best they can. It wonât help any if one of them breaks a leg.â

Joe admitted the wisdom of his brotherâs words, and they pressed forward at the best pace they could manage.

âYou know,â Frank said, âIâm beginning to see why Hopkins was so interested when he saw Mike Onslowâs map.â

âYou must be thinking the same thing I am,â Joe returned. âBig Al must be looking for Onslowâs missing gold!â

Frank pounded his fist into his palm as another thought struck him. âAnd, if he staked it out twenty-five years ago,â he added excitedly, âthat meansâBig Al and Black Pepper are the same person! Also, the wrecked plane theyâre looking for must be the crate Bart Dawson took off in!â

Joe nodded thoughtfully. âBig Al seems to be sure Dawson died in the wreck.â

âWhich doesnât jibe with what Ben Tinker told us,â Frank pointed out. âBen claimed he saw Dawson in Helena a couple of years later.â

âTrueâthough nobody around here seems to believe anything Ben says.â

âI knowâbut he did hear the music in the dance hall.â

Joe chuckled. âThatâs right. Of course it wasnât exactly played by Charlieâs ghost.â

Dusk was gathering fast. By the time the boys had passed through the stretch of timber, it was no longer possible to make out Slip Gunâs tracks, nor see the rider ahead. By now Frank and Joe were able to recognize familiar landmarks and inside of an hour were crossing the ridge above Lucky Lode. The town lights were visible below.

âItâs tough luck we werenât able to nab Slip Gun,â Frank said, as the brothers spurred their horses down the trail.

âLetâs hope weâre not too late to warn Dad!â Joe said grimly.

There was no sign of the horseman they were pursuing as they pounded through the streets of Lucky Lode. The boysâ fears mounted when they drew in sight of Hankâs cabin. Although darkness had fallen, no lights showed in the windows.

Frank and Joe pulled to a halt, leaped from their horses, and dashed inside, fear gripping them.

âHank! Dad!â Frank shouted.

No one answered. Without bothering to light the oil lamp, the boys blundered through the darkness and hastily checked the two sleeping rooms and the kitchen.

The cabin was empty!

CHAPTER XIII

A Fight in the Dark

âWEâRE too late!â Frank muttered in a choking voice.

Joe was too stunned to speak. The killer must have arrived before theml But where had the victims been taken?

The next instant the Hardys stiffened in suspense. Someone was slipping quietly into the cabin through the half-open front door.

âThat you, boys?â It was Hank Shale!

Frank and Joe rushed to question him.

âWhat happened to Dad?â Joe exclaimed.

âDonât worryâyour paâs safe,â the Westerner assured them. âI just finished movinâ him to Ben Tinkerâs place.â

A wave of relief swept over the boys. âDid you know he was in danger?â Frank asked.

âWe figgered so. After I told him how Big Alâs men tried to get you lads, your pa had a hunch the gang might come after him next.â

âHis hunch was right,â Joe said. âBig Alâs spy was ordered to kill Dad tonight!â

Hank gave a low whistle. âBy jingo, then he took cover just in time!â Hank listened tensely as the boys related their latest adventures.

âWeâd better not wait any longer,â Frank declared. âThe killer may make his move any time now. Hank, youâd better go back to Benâs place and stand guard!â

âWhat about you two?â

âWeâll wait here at the cabin and see if Slip Gun shows up,â Frank replied.

âAnd if he does,â Joe declared, âweâll have him dead to rights!â

âNow hold on!â said Hank. âIf this fellerâs cominâ to kill your pa, heâll be armed. Itâd be plumb foolish to try takinâ him on alone.â

âThen weâll wait outside and just see who he is,â Frank promised hastily. âThe arrest can be handled later.â

Hank started back to Ben Tinkerâs. Meanwhile, Joe lighted the oil lamp and the boys rummaged quickly through their fatherâs gear for extra flashlights to replace the ones they had lost in the river. Then they extinguished the lamp and hurried outside.

After stabling their horses in the lean-to, without taking time to unsaddle them, the boys darted into a nearby clump of trees. They picked out a spot from which they could watch the front door of the cabin and waited. For the next quarter of an hour nothing disturbed the peaceful quiet of the icy night.

Suddenly Frank gave a low hiss and pointed toward the cabin. The boys could barely discern the figure of a man, moving silently. He tried the door cautiously, then slipped inside.

âThink we should try to nab him?â Joe whispered.

âWe promised Hank we wouldnât,â Frank reminded his brother. âBut donât worryâonce he comes back, we wonât let him out of our sight till weâve identified him. This time he wonât give us the slip!â

The boys fell silent as a faint glow of light showed through the cabin window. The glow moved about. Evidently the intruder had brought a flashlight of his own.

The Hardys stiffened in surprise as a second figure suddenly loomed in the darkness near the cabin. The newcomer halted for an instant, then moved swiftly toward the door and went inside.

Joe gasped, âTwo of them!â

A second later came a muffled outburst of voices, then a sharp cry. Confused noises followed, then a crash.

âTheyâre fighting!â Frank sprang up. âCome on! That second person must have surprised the killerâhe may need help!â

Joe followed as his brother sprinted from their hiding place. Frank reached the cabin first and tried to open the door. But it resisted his efforts, as if something were blocking it.

Frank braced his shoulder and slammed hard against the wood. This time it yielded and came open part way.

âWaitâwait a minute!â a voice just inside muttered thickly.

The boys pushed on through and almost stumbled over someone on the floor. Frank snapped on his flashlight. Its bright beam revealed the face of Burke, the storekeeper!

âNever mind me! Get him!â Burke rasped as he struggled to his feet. âHe went through the back window!â

Joe had already switched on his flashlight. As Burke spoke, the beam swept through the doorway and showed an open window.

Joe darted out the front door and ran to the back of the cabin. Frank dashed straight to the bedroom and stuck his head out the window.

Tracks were visible in the snow, leading off toward the heavy brush and timber skirting the hillside. Joe came around the corner of the cabin, picked out the footprints with the beam of his flashlight, and began following them.

âHold it, Joe!â Frank called. âThat fellow might have a gun!â

Joe halted unwillingly and looked back at his brother. âIf he had a gun, wouldnât he have used it on Burke?â

âHow do we know?â Frank argued. âMaybe he had no chance to draw before he knocked Burke downâand after he heard us at the door, he may have been more interested in making a getaway. Anyhow, donât risk it, Joe!â

âOkay.â Joe shrugged and returned to the cabin.

By this time Burke was sitting down, and Frank had righted the overturned table and chairs. The storekeeper was disheveled and had a raw-looking bruise on his right cheek.

âWhat happened?â Frank asked him.

âI came here to see you boys or your dad,â Burke replied. âInstead, I discovered Bob Dodge nosinâ around with a Hashlightââ

âDodge!â Frank and Joe exclaimed together. âYou heard me!â the storekeeper snapped. He rubbed his cheek gingerly. âI accused him of beinâ a crook, and he slugged me with his flashlight. Then we started fightinâ. Finally Dodge knocked me down against the door, and before I could get up, he scrammed.â

âIf Dodge had the flashlight, how could you see who he was?â Joe asked.

âI couldnât at first,â Burke explained. âI called out, âWho are you?â or âWhoâs there?ââsomethinâ like that. Then he started givinâ me some cock-and-bull story about lookinâ for your dad and Hank Shale, and I recognized his voice. I said, âDonât try to kid me, Dodgeâyouâre in with that gang Mr. Hardyâs after!â Thatâs when he conked me with the flashlight.â

The boys looked at each other in bewilderment.

âWhat made you suspect Dodge is in league with Big Alâs gang?â Frank questioned.

âBecause I suddenly remembered him buyinâ some red paint soon after your dad first came to Lucky Lode,â Burke replied. âIt slipped my mind when you boys asked me. Thatâs what I was cominâ here to tell you.â

Frank and Joe digested this startling news. Burkeâs story added up to a convincing case against Dodge.

âThat would explain why he fled,â Joe said. âIf he figured the jig was up, Mr. Dodge may have headed for the gangâs hideout.â

âOr taken off in his copter!â Frank exclaimed. âIâll see if itâs still where he landed us.â

âWeâll both go,â Joe said.

âNo need for that,â his brother argued. âYouâd better help Mr. Burke back to his store.â

From the quick look his brother flashed him, Joe guessed that Frank still mistrusted Burke and wanted the man kept under surveillance.

Burke, however, declined the offer. âDonât worry about me,â he said. âIâm okay now.â

The storekeeper stood up to go, but after taking a few steps, he teetered and leaned weakly against the wall.

âWhew!â Burke muttered, shaking his head. âGuess Iâm still a bit woozy from that clout Dodge gave me.â

Joe helped him back to the chair, then went for some water from the kitchen pump. Before leaving, Frank made an excuse to join Joe.

âTake Burke to the store,â he whispered. âThen go straight to Ben Tinkerâs and make sure Dadâs okay. Iâll meet you there.â

Frank went outside, got his horse from the lean-to, and rode off toward the clearing where he judged the helicopter was parked.

Joe, meanwhile, bathed Burkeâs head with cold water and bandaged his injured cheek.

âWhere did your dad go?â Burke asked.

âHe and Hank Shale are following a lead on the case,â Joe said vaguely. He then suggested that they take the remaining two horses and ride, rather than walk, to the store.

Burke shook his head. âItâs not far enough to bother. Besides, the way I feel, Iâm not sure I could stick onto a saddle.â

Joe assisted him on foot to the store with no further difficulty. Burke thanked him, said good night, and went inside. Joe lingered until he saw the light go out. Then he hurried to Ben Tinkerâs cabin.

The young detective found Mr. Hardy, Hank, and Ben awake and gathered around a glowing potbelly stove. They listened with keen interest as Joe poured out his story of the nightâs events. Just as he was finishing, there came the sound of a horse being reined up outside, and a moment later Frank burst into the cabin.

âThe helicopterâs still at the field,â Frank reported. âI scouted around a bit, but thereâs no sign of Dodge. And he hasnât returned to the hotel.â

Mr. Hardy frowned and stroked his jaw. âI find it hard to believe that Bob Dodge can be a criminalâmuch less a killer,â the detective said. âWhatâs your opinion, boys?â

âUntil tonight it seemed to me to be a tossup between Burke and Dodge,â Joe replied. âWeâve suspected one of them must be Big Alâs spy, ever since that night we trailed the hooded man to the general store.â

Frank nodded and tallied up the evidence.

His father said, âBurke may be lying about what happened at the cabin tonight. Are you sure Dodge wasnât the second man to arrive?â

âIt was too dark to tell,â Frank admitted. âBut youâre rightâDodge may have surprised Burke there and accused him of working with the gang. And Burke may have done the attacking but got knocked down.â

âIn that case, why should Dodge duck out the window?â Hank objected.

âBurke was blocking the door,â Joe said. âMaybe Dodge decided to get out fast, in case Burke came at him again.â

Ben Tinker put in, âThat still donât explain where he disappeared to.â

Mr. Hardy arose from his chair and paced back and forth. âThe flashlight might carry fingerprints,â he remarked. âWas it still around?â

âI didnât see it,â Joe replied. âDodge must have taken it with him.â

âBut we donât know that,â Frank emphasized. âBurke could have slipped it inside his coat while we were looking out back.â

Joe agreed. âWe should have checked on that right away.â

Frank suddenly snapped his fingers. âLetâs assume Dodge is innocent. And if he got those burrs on his coat up at the cemetery, he must have been the third manâthe one we heard behind us.â

âYes, and he may have spotted the blue signal light and gone to investigate just as we did.â

âRight,â Frank went on. âSo maybe Dodge suspected all along that Burke was the man who met Slim. But he didnât want to jump to conclusions. Then, when he discovered Burke at the cabin tonight, he accused him outrightâand Burke got panicky and jumped him.â

Ben Tinker grunted suspiciously. âIf Dodge suspected Burke, whynât he tell you lads or your pa?â

âMatter of fact, Dodge did come around yesterday,â Hank reminded them. âBut the doc was tendinâ to Fenton, and the boys werenât here, so he never got to talk to âem.â

âMaybe thatâs why Dodge came to the cabin tonightâto tell us his suspicions,â Mr. Hardy conjectured. âHas Burke ever been in trouble with the law?â he asked.

Hank and Ben replied that so far as they knew, he had not.

Frank began pacing the floor. âAs things stand, we can make out a pretty convincing case for or against either Burke or Dodge,â he stated. âDodge has disappeared but Burke is still around. What we need is some way to test Burkeâs innocenceâor guilt.â

Mr. Hardy nodded. âGood thought.â

âWe know that the gang wants Joe and me out of the way,â Frank went on. âAnd we also know theyâre after Mike Onslowâs lost gold. So letâs set a trap for Burke.â

âHow?â asked Joe.

Frank grinned and said coolly, âBy using the best possible baitâthe gold and ourselves!â

CHAPTER XIV

The Broken Knife

FRANK explained his plan while the others listened approvingly.

âRight smart idea, boy!â Ben Tinker cackled appreciatively. âIf Burkeâs in league with the gang, Iâll lay ten to one he snaps at the bait!â

Mr. Hardy agreed. âBut you boys should have a lawman on hand when the trap is sprung.â

âIâll go along,â Hank Shale volunteered. âAnd Iâll get Sheriff Kenner over at Bear Creek.â

After details of the planned capture had been settled, Mr. Hardy said, âYou boys had better bunk here for the night, if Ben will permit. It might be risky staying at Hankâs place, in case the gang makes another attempt on our lives.â

Ben willingly approved, and the boys said they would stretch out on blankets by the stove.

âWeâll have to make one more trip back to Hankâs, though, to tend the horses,â Joe added.

The brothers set out, riding double on Frankâs horse. By this hour the long, single street of Lucky Lode was dark and silent. When the Hardys reached Hankâs cabin, they dismounted and went to the lean-to.

It was empty! Both Joeâs horse and Daisy, the pack mare, were gone!

âWho could have taken them?â Joe gasped.

Frank was equally mystified. âMaybe footprints will give us a clue,â he said hopefully.

The boys shone their flashlights around the trampled snow. Horseshoe prints led off up the hillside. A manâs tracks were heading toward the cabin from the patch of timber into which Dodge had disappeared earlier.

âHe must have come back after we left!â Joe exclaimed.

âSure looks that way,â Frank agreed. âWe can check more carefully by daylight.â

The boys returned to Benâs and stabled Frankâs horse in one of the old ghost-town buildings. When they went inside the cabin, the three men were asleep. Ben was snoring loudly.

âEven that wonât keep me awake tonight!â Joe grinned, and yawned deeply.

In spite of their exhausting adventures, Frank and Joe awoke at daybreak, thoroughly refreshed. After pulling on their clothes, they hurried back to Hank Shaleâs cabin.

Although the snow had wind-drifted, it was still possible to make out Dodgeâs tracks. They led away from the cabin to the woods, then returned to the lean-to.

âHe was punchy, all right,â Frank remarked. âHis steps zigzagged.â

The prints led to a clump of brush, where the crushed, broken twigs indicated the fugitive had fallen full length.

âDodge collapsed when he got this far!â Joe said in surprise.

âYes, Joe. And this may prove his innocence.â

âHow so?â

âSuppose it was Burke who beaned him with the flashlight, instead of the other way around. Dodge might have fought back, knocked Burke down, then scrammed out the window before Burke could come at him again. Dodge may have been dazed from the blowââ

âI get it!â Joe interrupted excitedly. âSo he staggered out here in the woods, maybe not even knowing where he was going, and passed out.â

Frank said he was puzzled. âWhy should Dodge go riding off up the hillside, instead of back into town? And why take Daisy?â

Joe shook his head. âMaybe we have him figured all wrong. Could be he is part of the gang, and wanted to get up to their hideout.â

Frank and Joe checked again on the helicopter and found it still in the clearing. On their way back through Lucky Lode, the Hardys stopped off at the hotel. The worried manager informed them that he had had no word from the vanished armored-car-company owner.

âIâve notified Sheriff Kenner and I just now finished calling Mr. Dodgeâs office in Helena,â the manager added.

Back at Benâs cabin, the boys found a hearty breakfast awaiting them. As they ate, Frank and Joe reported the theft of the two horses and discussed their theories with the men.

âAn amazing turn of events,â Mr. Hardy said.

As soon as the meal was over, Hank and the boys went off to hire fresh mounts from the livery stable. They promised to pay the owner for the lost horse if it was not recovered. Hank started off for Bear Creek to meet the sheriff. Meanwhile, Frank and Joe rode to the general store.

âMorninâ, boys,â Burke greeted them. Aside from his bruised cheek, he seemed to have suffered no ill effects from the fight.

Frank read off a short list of supplies. One item was a carton of canned beans. When Burke brought it, Frank said, âWeâd better divide the cans between our saddlebags, Joe. Could you lend me a knife to open the carton, Mr. Burke?â

âSure,â Burke took out a huge pocketknife and tossed it on the counter.

As the storekeeper went off to get the rest of the items, Frank opened the knife. About half the main blade was broken off!

The Hardys exchanged quick glances of triumph. The first part of Frankâs plan had paid off. Unless the broken knife was an amazing coincidence, Burke must be the man the gang called âSlip Gunâ! Now to see if he would take the bait they were about to offer!

As Frank had hoped, Burke was curious as to why the boys needed the supplies. âYou fellas fixinâ to take a trip somewhere?â he asked casually as he totaled the bill.

âNot too far,â Frank replied. âWeâll be camping in a canyon up the mountain a ways.â

âAnd weâll be coming back rich!â Joe added boastfully.

Frank shot an angry look at his brother, as if Joe had spoken out of turn.

âRich?â Burke looked at the boys questioningly.

âIt was supposed to be a secret,â Frank grumbled, âbutâwell, I guess we can trust you after what happened last night.â

âSure! I wonât tell nobody,â Burke purred. âWell, one reason we came out West was to look for some lost gold that an old miner named Mike Onslow told us about,â Frank began.

âHe drew us a map,â put in Joe, âbut it was stolen from us.â

âThen yesterday we were out in a box canyon where thereâs a certain rock formation that looks like a bear,â Frank went on. âWeâd heard Big Alâs gang planned to meet there. We didnât see the gang, but we did spot a clue to the whereabouts of the gold. And we have the location marked right here on a map we drew ourselves.â

Frank pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and tapped it significantly.

Burke stared in amazement. âNo foolinâ! You really know where to lay hands on the gold?â

The boys nodded gloatingly.

âBut please donât say a word to anyone,â Joe cautioned. âWe donât want to start a gold rush out to that canyon before weâve had a chance to uncover the treasure.â

âDonât worry, boys! Mumâs the word as far as Iâm concerned.â Burke gave an oily smile.

After stowing the supplies in their saddlebags, Frank and Joe rode out of town. Beyond the ridge they reined up at a sheltered spot agreed upon beforehand with Hank. Here the boys waited until they were joined by Hank and Sheriff Kenner. Then all four set out together, retracing the route the Hardys had followed when returning to town from the canyon the evening before.

A brief search soon disclosed the opening in the hillside through which the gang had emerged from the canyon. The entrance widened into a high-arched rocky passage, big enough for riding two abreast. The passage ended directly below the bear-shaped rock.

Once inside, Frank, Joe, and their two companions paused to consider their next move.

Sheriff Kenner, a rugged-looking man with an iron-gray mustache, asked the boys, âWhat time do you figure the gang will showâassuming Burke took the bait?â

âHe jumped at it!â Joe declared confidently.

âMy hunch is,â Frank said, âtheyâll wait until after dark and try to take us by surprise.â

The group kept out of sight below the rocky overhang and Hank cooked lunch over a small fire. Meanwhile, the two boys searched for the broken knife blade. Joe soon found it.

âThis sure looks as if it fits Burkeâs knife,â he said, handing over the blade to the sheriff.

By the time darkness fell, the group had arranged a convincing-looking camp with two stone-and-brush dummies covered with blankets to resemble sleepers. Then the four retired with their horses behind a cluster of huge boulders.

Time passed slowly. The campfire was renewed. Suddenly, above the soughing of the wind, the listenersâ ears caught the faint clop of horsesâ hoofs. The riders were coming through the rocky passage. Frank, Joe, and their two companions swung quietly into their saddles. Sheriff Kenner whispered final orders.

Moments later, three horsemen entered the canyon. There was sufficient moonlight for the boys to make out Slim and Jake. The third man, they guessed, was Big Al. Evidently Burke was not taking part in the raid.

The three thugs paused inside the canyon. The dying campfire and the two blanketed dummies lay in plain view. Big Al hissed out an order. Slim and Jake charged forward, their horses breaking into a gallop. The gang leader followed at a more leisurely pace.

âAll right, letâs take âem!â Sheriff Kenner snapped in a low voice. He and Hank spurred their horses from behind the boulders, while Frank and Joe waited, according to plan.

âDonât go for your guns! Just reach!â Sheriff Kenner yelled. At the same time, he fired a shot to show that he meant business.

Slim and Jake reined up sharply. Their hands shot skyward in panic as the bullet whistled over their heads. Frank and Joe spurred their horses into action and sped from behind the boulders. At that same instant Big Al wheeled his horse in a wild dash for the passageway. The boys and Hank followed, but suddenly Hankâs horse stumbled and its rider went flying off. The Hardys stopped, and turned back to help him.

âIâllâbe all rightâboys. Nothinâbroken! Just âgot theâwind knocked out oâ me,â he called out.

Reassured, Joe swung his mount in the direction of the escaping outlaw. âBig Alâs getting away! Letâs go after him!â he called to his brother.

Frank needed no urging. Together, they galloped after the ringleader. With Slim and Jake to deal with, the sheriff was powerless to join the chase. He shouted a warning to the two boys, advising them to wait, but his cry was drowned by the thundering hoofbeats.

The boys were already plunging through the tunnel in hot pursuit of the outlaw. In the darkness ahead they could hear the pounding hoofs of Big Alâs mount and see an occasional glint of sparks as its steel shoes struck the rocks.

Presently a dim glow of moonlight showed the passageway coming to an end. For a time Big Alâs figure was clearly silhouetted. Then it was lost to view as he emerged from the passage and headed to the right along the foot of the hillside. In moments Frank and Joe were out of the passageway and turning their own horses in the same direction.

âBig Alâs heading toward the same notch he and his men aimed for yesterday!â Frank called.

For more than an hour the chase continuedâover rocks, through dangerous gullies, then along a river winding through a narrow canyon. Suddenly Frank and Joe lost sight of their quarry as the canyon curved sharply. When the boys rounded the bend, they reined up in astonishment.

Ahead, the canyon ended abruptly in a high frozen cataract. The outlaw had vanished!

CHAPTER XV

Underground Chase

FRANK and Joe looked at each other in sheer disbelief, mingled with uneasiness. Except for the panting of their horses, not a sound broke the wintry silence of the canyon.

âCould Big Al have rigged some kind of ambush?â Joe asked in a low, worried voice.

âI donât see how,â Frank murmured, scanning the terrain. âThereâs no place for him and his horse to hide.â

The cliff walls on either side were bare and precipitous. With the moon almost directly overhead, the snow-covered floor of the canyon was revealed with brilliant clarity. The narrow riverbanks were barren of brush. Aside from a few scattered rocks ânone big enough to afford coverânothing intervened between the boys and the frozen waterfall.

âWell, he must be here somewhere,â Joe said edgily. âHis tracks will give us the answer.â

Frank agreed. The boys dismounted and moved forward cautiously, leading their horses. Moonlight wrapped the scene in eerie loneliness. The boys kept their eyes and ears alert. Gradually they became aware of another soundâthe muted roar of falling water, still flowing behind the glacier-like formation.

The sound became louder as they neared the cataract. The majestic ice curtain glittered in the moonlight. It was fringed with great, jagged blue-white spears that hung down like stalactites.

âI donât get it,â Joe muttered. âAlâs tracks lead straight toward the waterfall!â

As they proceeded, Frank took out his flashlight, and switched it on. He gave a cry of surprise.

âJoe! He must have gone under the waterfall!â

At the base of the cliff was a dark open space yawning between the curve of the falls and the rock face! It was large enough to admit a horse and rider. The boys moved closer for a better look and Frank probed the darkness with his flashlight.

âLook! Thereâs an opening in the cliff wall!â Joe exclaimed. âIt must be a tunnel!â

âOr maybe just a blind cavern,â Frank said, switching off his flashlight. âBig Al could be waiting for us in there!â

After a whispered conference, Frank groped his way behind the cataract. When he reached the opening in the cliff he quickly snapped on his flashlight again for a more leisurely examination. Presently he came back and reported to Joe. âItâs a tunnel, all right. No telling how far it goes âor where.â

âNo sign of Big Al?â Joe questioned.

âNot in person, but there are wet tracks.â

The two horses balked a bit as the boys took their bridles and attempted to lead them into the dark space behind the icy falls. Joeâs animal, which was in the lead, whinnied and reared when it felt the splattering spray, but it soon calmed under Joeâs reassuring hand.

Inside the tunnel mouth the passage widened, giving the boys room to mount. Frank and Joe rode slowly forward, with Joe, in the lead, shining his flashlight.

After several hundred yards the passage widened and the boys were able to ride side by side.

âMust have been the bed of an old underground stream,â Frank guessed. âSee how smooth the walls are worn.â

Joe nodded. âWeâd better speed up before Big Al gets too far ahead.â

Urging their horses to a faster pace, they pushed on through the tunnel. At intervals the boys stopped and listened, hoping to catch some sound of their quarry. The fourth time they halted, a faint echoing sound of horseâs hoofs on rock reached their ears from somewhere ahead.

âWe must be getting closer!â Joe said tensely.

Just how close was difficult to judge, since the enclosed passage with its smooth, hard walls might carry the sound almost any distance. The boys rode on steadily. When they paused to listen once more, the hoofbeats were no longer audible. But twenty minutes later Joe thought he could detect them again.

âHe may be far ahead of us,â said Frank. âSound can be pretty tricky in here.â

As the brothers continued along the tunnel, the chill, dank atmosphere gradually became warmer. Frank and Joe unzipped their heavy windbreakers.

After a while it became necessary to rest the horses. The Hardys did not dare pause too long for fear of losing Big Al completely, and soon went on.

The tunnel turned and twisted. The horses were nervous at first about proceeding, but gradually became accustomed to the experience.

âIt seems as if weâve been traveling for hours,â said Frank. Presently he snapped on his flashlight to glance at his wristwatch. To his amazement, it was almost three-thirty in the morning! âWhew! Do you realize the nightâs almost over, Joe?â

âI sure do. The horses are bushed.â

Gradually the boys became aware that the tunnel was sloping upward. The horses began to pant and labor from the steepness of the incline, and the Hardys had to rest them more frequently.

âItâs getting colder in here,â Joe said with a sudden shiver. Both boys zipped up their jackets.

âWe must be getting close to the surface,â Frank said hopefully.

Sometime later he was about to turn on his flashlight again when he paused. âHey! The tunnelâs not so dark as it has beenâor am I imagining things?â

âYouâre right!â Joe replied, with rising excitement. âIâll keep my flashlight off for a while.â

Soon the boys could feel cold air on their faces. The tunnel was lightening every moment, and presently a gray glimmer of daylight showed ahead. With joyful cries of relief, Frank and Joe urged their horses forward.

In a minute or so, they had emerged onto a snow-covered mountainside. Rocks, scattered trees, and slopes all around them were bathed in the ghostly light of dawn. The Hardys leaped from their horses, stretched their tired muscles, and inhaled the fresh air deeply. Then they looked around and assessed their situation.

âThere are Big Alâs tracks,â Joe said, pointing them out.

Frank nodded. âFairly fresh, tooâbut he could be a good distance ahead of us.â

âAny idea where we are, Frank?â

âNot much, except that weâve come clear through the mountain.â Frank grinned wryly. âIâm famished, Joe. How about you?â

âSame here! Think we can take time to eat?â

âMay as well,â Frank decided. âNo telling how long weâll be on the trail. Lucky we didnât unpack.â

The boys fed their horses, built a small fire, and had breakfast. Then they swung back into the saddles and resumed their pursuit of the outlaw. His tracks led upward onto a beaten trail winding along the mountainside.

When they reached the path, Frank reined in his mount and glanced toward a high, jutting rock formation farther up the mountain. âKnow something, Joe?â he remarked. âIâll bet this is a continuation of Ambush Trail.â

Joe snapped his fingers. âYouâre right! I remember seeing that rocky outcrop way in the distance, just before we fell into the river!â

âIf this is Ambush Trail,â Frank went on, âBig Al must be heading for their hideout on Windy Peak.â

âThat figures,â Joe agreed. âHe thinks heâs shaken us by going through the tunnel.â

The boys continued their pursuit throughout the morning. Around noontime, Big Alâs tracks left the well-defined path and disappeared upward among the higher rocks and brush.

Joe groaned at the sight. âGood grief! How can we tackle that kind of ground when our horses are exhausted already?â

Frank looked thoughtful as they slouched in their saddles and studied the terrain. âMaybe thereâs no need to, Joe. I have a hunch this could be a dodge to throw us off.â

âYou could be right,â Joe said, brightening. âIf Big Alâs heading for Windy Peak, heâll probably have to come back to the trail eventually.â

After talking the matter over, the Hardys decided to halt for lunch and a rest. Two hours later, feeling refreshed, they hit the trail again.

It was late in the afternoon when the boys sighted the outlawâs tracks once more, leading from the slope back down to the trail.

âYour hunch paid off, Frank!â Joe exclaimed. âThese tracks look pretty fresh, too!â

Encouraged, the boys pressed forward with new energy. A mile farther on, the trail forked. One branch struck sharply upward. The other followed a more winding course along the curve of the mountainside. To their left stretched a shallow box canyon.

Frank and Joe took the lower trail, since the prints showed that Big Al had gone that way. Gradually the path became little more than a rocky ledge, with frequent sharp turns and a sheer drop-off along the outer edge. The Hardys rode single file, with Joe in the lead.

Suddenly a pebble clattered down from a rock jutting out just above their heads. Frank shot a quick glance upward. âLook out, Joe!â he yelled.

A rope with a wide circling noose was snaking down toward his brotherâs head!

Frankâs warning came an instant too late. The noose settled over Joeâs shoulders and jerked tight, nearly yanking him from the saddle.

Frank spurred forward, white with terror. Someone hidden on the ledge above them was trying to drop Joe over the precipice! Frank managed to grab the taut rope just in time. Almost at the same instant, the unseen enemy let go of it. Joe would have gone over the brink, but Frankâs quick jerk on the rope pulled his brother back from the edge, and Joe dropped heavily onto the trail. Unhurt, he struggled to his feet and began extricating himself from the noose. In moments he was free.

âThere goes the rat!â Frank yelled as a figure burst from the ledge above and scrambled rapidly along the slope.

Big Al!

Instantly Joe was back in the saddle. The Hardys spurred forward in hot pursuit. The outlawâs course was roughly parallel to the trail. Suddenly Big Al checked his stride long enough to send a large rock rumbling down the slope.

âHold it, Frank!â Joe warned.

Both boys yanked their horses to a rearing, whinnying halt in the nick of time! A split second later the rock crashed onto the trail just ahead, rolled to the edge, and went over.

The animals snorted with fear and stood trembling. Frank and Joe barely managed to spur them into motion again. Big Al was lost to view behind a clump of brush and jagged outcropping.

The trail ahead bent sharply around a projecting shoulder of the mountainside. Joe caught a quick glimpse of Big Al outlined against the sky as he rounded the slope. Then he disappeared.

The boys slowed their mounts to negotiate the dangerous hairpin curve of the ledge. As they came around to the opposite side of the shoulder, Joe reined in and signaled Frank to halt. Ahead stood Big Alâs riderless horse. The Hardys dismounted to scout the situation.

âWhere has he gone?â Frank asked tensely.

âSearch me,â Joe replied, looking around.

Just past the outlawâs horse the trail petered out and the terrain sloped upward in a jumble of giant rocks. Beyond them a huge boulder stood poised straight up like a pinnacle.

âHe must be holed up among those rocks,â Frank said. âProbably waiting for us!â

He had hardly finished speaking when Joe clutched his brotherâs arm and pointed. âLook! There he is!â

Big Al had suddenly appeared, clawing his way to the very top of the jutting boulder!

âHeâs trapped!â Frank cried out triumphantly. âLetâs get him!â

CHAPTER XVI

Cliff Hideaway

âYOUâLL never take me alive!â screamed Big Al.

He had reached the top of the huge boulder and now stood waving his arms against the leaden sky. The outlaw was jumping around as though half-crazed.

âTry to get me!â he challenged.

As Frank and Joe sped into the jumble of rocks, they lost sight of their quarry momentarily. They could hear Big Al still yelling, then suddenly there was silence.

âWonder what happened?â Joe panted. âDidââ

He was interrupted by a long-drawn-out scream which gradually trailed off. Then there was silence.

Dashing from the rocks, the boys came around a corner. Before them was the huge boulder.

âHeâs gone!â Joe panted.

âBut where?â

There was no place for Big Al to have run except down the rocky trail on which the boys had been.

âHe must have jumped over the edge!â Joe yelled. The Hardys ran to it. They could see most of the canyon floor below them. There was no sign of a body.

âHe must have gone down!â Frank said, puzzled. âBut where is he?â

The boys looked closely again in the waning light. There was no one in sight.

âI wonderââ Joe said slowly. âEven if Big Al did go over the side, he may have known a safe way to slide to the bottom, and there might be some hiding placeââ

Frank agreed. âBig Alâs pretty tricky. He could have figured out some way to escape.â

As the light failed, the brothers strained their eyes to peer into the darkness, but could detect no niche, crevice, or cave in which to hide.

âWell,â Frank murmured at last, âthere isnât much we can do tonight. I sure hate to think Big Al is roaming around here loose.â

Joe looked toward the sky. It was dark now and they were a long distance up Windy Peak. âWhatâll we do, Frank?â he asked.

âThe only thing we can do,â said his brother, âis spend the night here. Tomorrow we might manage to find some trace of Big Al. I want to know if heâs dead or alive.â

âI do, too!â Joe exclaimed.

âWeâll have to make camp,â Frank said, âbut first weâd better do something about our horses.â

âYes, and Big Alâs, too,â Joe added, pointing toward the outlawâs fine roan that was still ground-hitched.

The boys gathered the three animals together, rode back to the fork, and secured the horses to rocks.

âThese old fellows will provide us with a good warning system,â Frank remarked.

âHow?â his brother asked.

Frank explained his idea. âWeâll leave them here and go part way back along the trail to make camp. If Al is alive heâll have to come past here, since all three trails meet at this spot. Heâll want his roan, anyway. The horses would be sure to whinny and waken us.â

âGood scheme!â said Joe. âWeâll camp at the Rock Motel!â

âEvery comfort and all for free,â Frank joked.

The boys ate, fed the horses, then carted their bedrolls and meager supplies to a sheltered spot and quickly spread out the blankets. Though the brothers were tired, sleep was slow in coming.

âI canât help wondering if Big Al is tricking us again,â Frank said uneasily as he was finally drifting off.

He dreamed several times about the outlaw and tried to figure out why he and Joe had not seen Big Alâs body in the gorge. Both boys slept fitfully through the night.

As the blackness of the sky began to lighten with the coming of dawn, they got up and ate a cold but nourishing breakfast of oranges, oatmeal cookies, and egg flakes. Refreshed, the boys walked toward the edge of the cliff over which Big Al had disappeared.

âWe may be able to see something more in the daylight,â Joe remarked.

Frank had been staring into the gray, lowering sky. âI doubt if thereâs anything to see,â he observed.

âWhat do you mean?â

Frank scanned the sky once more. âI think weâve been fooled again,â he answered. âIf there had been a body down in the gorge, thereâd be carrion birds flying around.â

âOf course,â said Joe.

âI wondered about it last night, but thought maybe because it was so late there wouldnât be any birds at work. But some would be here this morning, if there was anything to attract them.â

âLetâs look over the edge again,â Joe suggested.

The brothers dropped to their stomachs and crept as close as they could to the rim. By leaning well over it, they could look almost to the base of the cliff.

âSee anything, Joe?â

âNot a thing.â

Suddenly, from far below, came the rattle of small pebbles. A great black raven flew out of the precipice.

âThere must be a nest in the cliff!â Joe cried out.

The boys edged forward over the rough stones. They held on as tightly as possible before leaning over to locate the nest.

âThere it is!â exclaimed Frank.

Below them in a recess that nature had torn in the cliffside was the birdâs nest and alongside it enough room to give a man shelter.

âThat was Big Alâs hiding place!â Frank said grimly. âHe swung down there to the left and probably got away during the night.â

Frank and Joe crawled back from the cliffâs edge until they could stand up in safety.

âHe fooled us all right,â said Frank. âI wonder how long it was before he left here.â

âMaybe,â Joe suggested, âit depended on the horses. Iâll bet he waited until just before dawn and then stole them!â

Frank was angry. âOf course. His horse would know him, and since the three animals have been together and gotten to be friends, none of them would whinny an alarm. I should have realized that.â

The boys dashed for the fork. Their guess had been right! The horses were gone! And taken up the steeper branch!

âAl did trick us!â Frank chided himself.

âNow heâs really got us in a spot,â murmured his brother. âDo we head for home or trail him?â

âTrail him,â Frank decided promptly. âWeâll have to walk, of course.â

âCan we make it up there?â Joe sounded worried.

âI donât know, but weâll have to try.â

The brothers huddled in the shelter of a rock to discuss the situation. What lay ahead? They realized it might be a long and treacherous climb âperhaps another night without hot food and proper shelter. They noticed it was growing colder and that was a bad sign too. It was not only going to be uncomfortable for the Hardy boys, but they could easily freeze to death!

âCome on, Joe!â Frank said resolutely as he started up the steep trail. âWeâre not going to let Big Al get away!â

Joe joined his brother and together they started the climb along this part of Ambush Trail. The turns were abrupt and the wind whistled sharply. Once Joe had to snatch Frank back when the wind nearly blew him over the edge.

For hours the boys toiled along the trail, following the string of horseshoe prints. During the afternoon, the marks made an abrupt turn that opened onto a plateau. It was almost completely surrounded by jagged outcroppings of rocks. The boys ducked down out of the strong wind which had swept the area almost clean of snow.

Suddenly their eyes bulged as they spotted a small cabin that lay nestled in the center of the little plateau! From its chimney came a thin wisp of smoke.

âSomebodyâs here!â said Joe excitedly, and instinctively began to run.

âWait!â Frank warned. âIt might be Big Al. Weâd better approach cautiously. Say, Joeâlook !â

On a ridge beyond the cabin was a single weather-beaten pine tree.

âThe lone pine!â Joe exclaimed.

âYes,â said Frank, âand if it is, that building might be Mike Onslowâs cabinânow occupied by Big Al!â

CHAPTER XVII

The Secret Listener

As THE boys paused uncertainly, pondering their next move, the cabin door opened. A tall, white-haired man strode out and waved to them.

âHi there!â he called. âLooking for shelter?â

The boys gasped as they recognized him.

âItâs Mr. Dodge!â Joe exclaimed.

âCan we trust him?â Frank muttered. âIf he is in cahoots with the gang, Big Al may be in there, waiting to jump us.â

Joe shot his brother a quick glance. âIf we run for it, they may come after us shooting!â

âGuess weâll have to play this by ear,â Frank said in a low voice. âBetter pretend we donât suspect anythingâbut be ready to act fast if we spot a trap.â

The Hardys walked toward the cabin.

âWhat are you doing up here, Mr. Dodge?â Joe asked when they drew closer.

A bewildered look came over the manâs face. âDodge?â he repeated. âMy name is DawsonâBart Dawson. I worked a claim up here with Mike Onslow and the Coulson brothers.â

The boys stopped short in astonishment.

âThatâs right,â Dodge went on. His manner seemed strange. âIâIâd better explain,â he added. âCome on inside and Iâll tell you the whole story. Maybe you boys can help me.â

Frank and Joe looked at each other. Both had a hunch as to what Dodge was about to tell them.

âOkay, letâs go,â Frank murmured to Joe.

The brothers entered and Dodge closed the door. The cabin had a âlived-inâ appearance. There were cans of food and other supplies on the shelves, and a pile of firewood beside the potbelly stove.

âSit down, boys.â

Frank and Joe found chairs, but Dodge remained standing. He sighed and ran his fingers through his thick shock of white hair, as if he scarcely knew how to begin. He had a livid, swollen bruise on his right temple.

âCan you lads imagine what itâs like to wake up suddenly and not know where you are or how you got there?â the big man said at last. âTo have a complete blank in your memory?â

âA blank twenty-five years long?â Joe put in.

Dodge looked startled. âI donât know how you guessed it, son, but you must be just about right. Last time I recall, I was a young man with red hair and a beard. Also I was very skinny. But now when I see myselfââhe gestured toward a small cracked mirrorââmy hairâs white, Iâm years older, and Iâm much heavier.â

âDo you recognize us?â Frank queried.

The man shook his head. âNoâand Iâve been wondering why you called me Dodge.â

âBecause youâve been going under the name of Bob Dodge,â Frank replied.

âSame initialsâB.D.âbut a different identity,â Joe added.

After introducing himself and his brother, Frank went on, âYou spoke about waking up suddenly. Where?â

âIn some woods near a cabin,â the man answered. âFelt as if Iâd hit my headâor been hit âand there was a big swelling on my temple. Do you fellows know what happened?â

âYou were conked with a flashlight,â Joe told him.

Frank leaned forward and asked, âCanât you remember anything about a fight inside a cabin?â

Bart Dawson frowned in deep thought. Finally he shook his head. âNo. I tried to figure how Iâd got to the woods, but nothing came back to me.â

âWhat did you do next?â Frank said.

âWell, I staggered out of the woods. It was dark, but I was close to someoneâs cabin. I knocked on the door, butâno answer.â

âIs that any reason to steal two horses?â Joe asked accusingly.

Dawson flushed. âYou seem to know all my actions. I guess it was pretty highhanded, helping myself like that. But believe me, I intended to bring them back.â

âJust why did you take them?â Frank asked. âIf you were confused, you could have gone into town for help.â

âI guess so,â Dawson admitted. âBut the main street was dark and no one seemed to be stirring. Besides, Iâwell, Iâd have felt pretty foolish waking people up and confessing I was mixed up.

âAll I knew,â the man went on, âwas that my name was Bart Dawson and I had to find my partners fast. It seemed terribly urgent for me to get back up here to our cabin on Windy Peak. There were two horses in the stable, so I helped myself to âem and hit the trail. I took the pack horse,â he added, âbecause it was carrying blankets and a few supplies which I figured I might need in case I got lost and had to camp in the open.â

âWhen did you arrive here?â Frank asked.

âYesterday afternoon. The place was empty, but there was some food.â

Frank and Joe concluded this was the gangâs hideout.

âWhen I saw myself in the mirror,â Dawson went on, âI realized how many years must have gone by.â His voice broke. He slumped down on a bunk and put his head in his hands. âIf you boys can fill me in at all,â he said, âIâd sure appreciate it.â

Frank and Joe explained to Dawson that under the name Dodge, he had been operating a successful armored-car business in Helena for ten years. Where he had been before that, they did not know. The boys also told him how he had engaged their father, Fenton Hardy, to run down a gang of robbers and how his sons had been brought into the case. Frank ended by telling Dawson about his fight with Burke at Hank Shaleâs cabin, and how a trap had been baited for Burke later, which resulted in the capture of Slim and Jake.

The white-haired man on the bunk shook his head hopelessly. âThanks for telling me this, boys. But I still canât remember a thing about my life as Bob Dodge.â

âWhatâs the last thing you do remember?â Joe pressed him.

Slowly Dawson began to relate how he and his partners had been besieged in this very cabin by Black Pepperâs gang.

âWe heard about that from Mike Onslow,â Frank put in. âHeâs a trapper now, back East. The two Coulson brothers are dead.â

Dawson swallowed hard. âIâm sorry to hear that.â After a moment he continued, âAnyhow, I remember taking off in the plane and heading north. But after three or four minutes the engine failedâand the ship crashed.â

âYou couldnât have gone far in three or four minutes,â Joe said thoughtfully.

âNo, thatâs right,â Dawson agreed, frowning. âI think I came down in the big valley beyond Lone Tree Ridge.â

âThen what?â Frank asked.

Dawson got up from the bunk and paced back and forth. âThe plane hit hard and cartwheeled over into a sort of little gully somewhere along the valley floor. I must have blacked out for a while. When I came to, I had a terrible pain in my head.â

âYou walked away from the wreck?â asked Joe.

âYes. I was worried about Black Pepper getting the gold and the fact that Mike Onslow and the Coulson boys had entrusted it to me. Donât know how I managed, weak as I was, but somehow I got the sacks of gold out of the plane.â

âWhat did you intend to do?â Frank inquired.

Dawson rubbed his head painfully. âIâve been concentrating on that ever since I arrived at the cabin,â he replied. âI recall knowing I couldnât lug the gold very far, and that I wanted to hide it in a safe place. Some landmark in the valley must have reminded me of an old abandoned mine called the Lone Tree diggings.â

âIs that where you took the gold?â Joe asked.

âIt must have been,â Dawson said. âAnyhow, I remember finding a tunnel openingâand at the end of the tunnel a big excavation with bluish dirt walls. Thatâs where I hid the gold.â

âCan you remember anything more?â Frank urged.

âNot much. Guess I tried to reach help. But it was bitter cold and snowing and I must have lost my way. Seems as if I wandered for a long timeâplodding along blindly, falling, getting up, and staggering on. After that, everythingâs a blank.â

âThe crash and the terrible hardships you went through must have brought on amnesia,â Joe said.

âAnd the blow Burke gave you that night triggered your mind into recalling the past,â Frank added.

âIncidentally,â Joe put in, âweâre pretty sure that Black Pepper and the gang leader Big Al are the same man.â

Dawson frowned again. âYou said I was running a business up in Helena,â he murmured. âIn that case, why was I hanging around Lucky Lode? Your father was handling the detective work.â

âWe wondered about that ourselves,â Frank admitted. âIn fact, it made us suspect that you might be in with the gang. But maybe you were trying to dig up your past. I have a hunch this territory around Lucky Lode could have rung a bell in your mind.â

Suddenly all three were startled by the whinny of a horse. Frank and Joe leaped from their chairs and dashed outside, followed by Dawson. A man on horseback had just emerged from a clump of rocks and brush. He was headed toward the ridge.

âThatâs Big Allâ Joe cried.

A thought flashed into Frankâs mind. Around the windward sides of the cabin lay an area of drift snow. Frank ran toward it. As he had feared, fresh tracks were visible leading toward and away from the lean-to shed at the back.

âHe was here!â Frank called angrily. As the others joined him, he pointed to the prints in the snow. âIâll bet Big Al was hiding in the shed! He must have heard everything!â

The Hardys and Dawson hurried into the shed. Joeâs saddle horse and Daisy, the pack mareâthe animals Dawson had taken from Hankâs cabinâwere peacefully munching hay at the feedbox. Dawson was mystified, but Frank and Joe quickly reconstructed what must have happened.

âThe gangâs been using this cabin as their hideout,â Joe said. âBig Al must have reached here just before we did. When he saw the smoke, Big Al figured heâd better scout the situation.â

âRight,â Frank agreed. âHe circled around the cabin toward that clump of brush, left the horses there, and sneaked up from the rear.â

âIâll bet he was in the lean-to when we arrived,â Joe added. âThat means he heard everything through the wallâincluding what Mr. DodgeâDawsonâtold us about the place where he hid the gold!â

âAnd now Big Alâs on his way to find it!â Frank exclaimed.

The Hardys ran toward the clump of rocks and brush. Among them, well out of sight of the cabin, were the two horses Big Al had stolen from the boys. The outlaw had abandoned the extra animals when he galloped off.

âWeâll go after him!â Frank decided.

The boys rode the horses back to the cabin. Dawson was eager to accompany them in pursuit of the gang leader, but the Hardys thought it more important that he return to Lucky Lode immediately and tell their father the turn of events.

âDad and Hank and the sheriff will be worried sick about us by this time,â Frank said. âBesides, Mr. Dawson, that knock on the head may cause some aftereffectsâyou should see a doctor.â

After some persuasion, Dawson agreed, although the leaden sky foreboded bad weather.

Frank and Joe quickly collected some supplies from among the provisions in the cabin. In doing so, they discovered a powerful flashlight with a blue lensâevidently the signal light beamed from the cemeteryâand a complete list of the gang members, with jotted notes on how to contact them, including Hopkinsâ group in Chicago.

âThis should give the police all they need to smash the gang for good!â Joe exclaimed, handing the papers to Dawson.

Snow was falling as the boys mounted their horses. Dawson was ready to hit the trail for Lucky Lode with the other horses. After a final farewell Frank and Joe galloped off.

The snow was gradually obliterating Big Alâs tracks. By the time the Hardys had topped the ridge and were riding down into the valley below, the outlawâs trail had disappeared.

âA tough break,â Frank murmured, âbut at least we know the general direction heâs taking.â

An hour later they reached level ground. The sky was darkening now under a heavy overcast and wind was roaring down the valley at gale force. The brothers hunched low in the saddle as driving gusts of snow stung their faces.

Frank took the lead while the boys threaded their way among boulders and brush that studded the valley floor. Here and there drifts were accumulating and the horsesâ legs sank deep into the snow at every step. Soon the snow was swirling so thickly that Frank could see only a few yards ahead. Had they made a mistake, he wondered, in pressing ahead through the storm?

âLooks as though weâre in for a real blizzard, Joe!â he yelled. âWeâd better find shelter!â

Hearing no answer, Frank swung around in the saddleâthen gasped. Joe was nowhere in sight !

âJoe!â Frank screamed against the wind. âJoe! Where are you?â

There was no reply.

CHAPTER XVIII

North from Lone Tree

FOR a moment Frank was panic-stricken. He shouted Joeâs name, but the howling wind drowned his voice.

Snugging his chin inside his turned-up coat collar, Frank slouched in his saddle and waited. Minutes dragged by. Again and again he called his brotherâs name, but no answering cry reached his ears. Darkness was closing in rapidly now, and Frank was half numbed from the icy blast of the storm. His heart sank with every passing moment.

âItâs hopeless,â Frank decided at last. âIf I sit here much longer, Iâll freeze. I must get out of the driving wind and snow.â Frank urged his horse in the general direction of the mountainside.

Presently through the swirling snow, a shapeless, rocky mass loomed in front of him. Frank guided his horse along the base of the rock, and after several minutes of plodding, found a spot that was partially sheltered by overhang. He dismounted and drew his horse in out of the blizzard.

Frank clicked on his flashlight and shone it about the area. Fringing the rock face were brownish clumps of brushâdry and brittle beneath their coating of snow.

âThese will do for a fire,â Frank thought. âAnd it might signal Joe!â

He broke off enough of the brush to make a small pile and took out his waterproof case of matches. He struck one, then a second. Both blew out, but the third one caught. Cupping the flame in his hand, Frank held it against one of the broken twigs. In a moment the dry wood began to smolder. Bit by bit, Frank nursed the ember into a fire and soon had a roaring blaze going.

âIt wonât last long, though,â he reflected as he warmed his face and hands.

By now the circle of firelight was strong enough to reveal a fallen tree several yards away. Frank managed to break off some branches and brought them back to augment his supply of firewood.

âIf only Joe were here!â he thought.

Shivering, Frank walked out into the darkness. âJoe!â he shouted, his voice straining. Then again, âJoe! ...â

Frank listened intently. Suddenly his heart leaped. He had heard a cry!

Frank began yelling frantically. Several moments later a horse and rider took shape out of the snowy darkness. Frank rushed to meet them and guided Joeâs frost-rimed mount back toward the welcome glow of the firelight.

He shouted Joeâs name, but the howling wind drowned his voice

Joe himself was white from head to foot. He climbed wearily out of the saddle, shook himself off, and hunkered close to the flames while Frank attended to his horse.

âWhew!â Joe gave a long sigh of relief as the warmth of the blaze restored his numbed circulation. âGood thing you built this fire, Frank. I was about ready to give up.â

âI was hoping you might spot the light,â Frank said. âHow did we get separated?â

âMy carelessness,â Joe confessed. âI was looking around for signs of Big Al and sort of trusting my horse to follow yours. First thing I knew, you were nowhere in sight.â

The boys blanketed and fed their horses, then opened a can of beans and had a warm supper.

âWonder if Big Alâs lost in the storm, too?â Joe mused drowsily.

âProbably,â Frank replied. âIf heâs smart, heâll find some kind of shelter.â

âHe may already have found the mine tunnel where Dawsonâs gold is hidden,â Joe pointed out.

âLetâs hope not!â

There was a long silence as the two brothers crouched close to the fire, listening to the roar of the storm. Gradually their heads drooped. It was an uneasy, uncomfortable night. Frank and Joe managed to sleep, off and on, but as the fire died down one or the other would get up and forage for more wood.

With the first clear light of dawn, the brothers were awake and preparing to hit the trail. The snow had stopped sometime during the early morning. Now the whole valley lay covered in a ghostly blanket of white.

âWhatâs our next move?â Joe asked as the boys ate breakfast.

âI think our best bet is to look for the lost plane,â Frank suggested. âThe mine tunnel canât be too far from there.â

Joe shook his head pessimistically. âDonât forget, Big Alâs gang has been looking for it for a long time with no luck.â

âBut they had nothing to go on,â Frank argued. âOf course Dawsonâs plane fell into a gullyâso it might not be too easy to spot.â

âThatâs true,â Joe said thoughtfully. âLetâs see if we can get some idea of where it came down. According to Dawson, he headed north and was in the air only three or four minutes!â

The Hardys made a rough calculation, based on the probable speed of a single-engine plane of old vintage. Then, using their compass and taking a bearing on the lone sentinel pine atop the ridge, they started off toward the area where they estimated the crash might have occurred.

The horses could move only at a slow plod. Their forelegs sank knee-deep into the snow at every step. Frank and Joeâtheir breaths steaming in the subzero atmosphereâwere forced to control their impatience.

The search continued for several hours. By late morning, both boys were discouraged. Joe, who was in the lead, reined in his horse.

âSeems pretty hopeless, if you ask me,â he said, swinging around in his saddle. âMaybe we shouldââ

Joe broke off with a gasp. As he turned, his eyes had suddenly detected something protuding from the snow in the distance.

âFrank!â Joe pointed off through the clear, cold air.

Frankâs eyes widened as he too saw the object. âYouâre right! Letâs go check!â

Turning their horses, the boys rode toward the spot. Even before they reached it, they could make out the skeletal wing tip of a plane sticking up from a snow-choked gully.

âThatâs the wreck, all right!â Frank exclaimed jubilantly. âNo wonder Big Al and his gang never saw it! Those trees along the edge of the gully would screen it from the ridge!â

The boys halted to discuss the next step in their search.

âThe mine tunnel must be somewhere in the mountainside,â Frank reasoned. âAnd it must be on this side of the valley. The other sideâs miles awayâDawson couldnât have carried the gold that far.â

âWhich still gives us a lot of ground to cover,â Joe said.

The two boys rode toward the edge of the valley where the ground began to slope steeply upward.

âDawson probably wasnât in shape to climb very far after the crash,â Frank said. âSo letâs concentrate along the lower slopes.â

The boys decided to turn left and skirt the mountainside for at least two miles. If their efforts proved fruitless, they would then retrace their steps and try the other direction.

Deep drifts and tangled underbrush made the going difficult. Several times the Hardys were disappointed. What looked like a hole in the mountainside proved to be only the shadow of trees or some rocky outcropping.

But suddenly Frank gave a cry of excitement and pointed. âThereâs an opening for sure, Joe.â

The dark recess was only partly screened by a clump of underbrush. The two boys dismounted, ground-hitched their horses, and scrambled up the slope. They pulled aside the snow-laden brush and Frank shone his flashlight into the hole.

As the yellow beam stabbed through the darkness, Joe murmured, âThis looks more like an ordinary cave than a mine tunnel.â

âBut there is a tunnel back there,â Frank replied.

In the rear wall of the cavern, about fifty feet or more from the entrance, they could make out another hole which evidently led deep into the mountainside.

âOkay, letâs take a look,â Joe urged.

The boys entered the cave cautiously and walked toward the inner passage. Frank stopped as he heard a faint rustling noise to their left.

âHold it, Joe.â

His brother turned quickly. A pair of glowing eyes glinted at them from the darkness.

Frankâs flashlight revealed an enormous gray wolf! Standing stiffly, the animal glared at the intruders, baring its teeth in a low growl.

Other noises reached the boysâ ears. Frank swung his flashlight around and a dozen pairs of wolvesâ eyes shone in the glow like burning coals.

âGood grief!â Frankâs voice was a hoarse whisper. âWeâve walked straight into a den of wolves!â

CHAPTER XIX

Wolf Prey

FoR a moment the Hardys were paralyzed with fright.

Joe swallowed hard and whispered, âCan we make a break for freedom?â

âWe can try.â

At the first step, however, the huge timber wolf nearest them gave a savage snarl. The fur on its back bristled stiffly.

Frank muttered, âOne false move and that lobo will go for us. This pack acts hungry.â

There was a patter of feet in the darkness. The glowing eyes from the dim recesses circled closer. The wolves were gathering around the boys, cutting off escape through the cave entrance!

Frank could feel drops of cold perspiration trickling down his skin. âSnap on your flashlight, too, Joe. That may help hold them back.â

Joe played the beam slowly back and forth, while Frank used his.

The wolves slunk restlessly to and fro. Their lolling tongues gave them a wickedly grinning appearance, but they were wary of the lights. Now and then, as a gaunt gray form was caught in the full radiance of a beam, the animal would leap back into the shadows.

It was dear that the flashlights could not hold the beasts at bay for long. As the wolves paced back and forth, the circle was being drawn gradually tighter.

âWatch it!â Joe exclaimed suddenly.

The leader of the pack was advancing straight toward Frank, who stabbed his light full into the wolfâs greenish eyes. The brute shrank back, its ears laid flat to its head. A vicious growl issued from its throat.

Instinctively the Hardys moved a step backward. The pack seemed to sense the boysâ fear and pressed its advantage, forcing the Hardys to retreat still farther.

âInto the tunnel!â Frank told his brother.

âIt may be a blind alley,â Joe warned.

âWeâll have to risk itâthereâs no other way out.â

Inch by inch, the boys backed toward the tunnel opening.

âItâs not wide enough for both of us,â Joe said tensely, flashing his light quickly behind them.

âThen you go first,â Frank ordered.

They were only a few yards from the tunnel now. Joe began working his way into position behind his brother. The wolves edged closer still, growing bolder, as if they sensed that their victims were trying to escape.

Suddenly the leader gave a vicious snarl and shortened his distance from the boys with a quick leap forward. Again Frank focused his flashlight squarely into the huge beastâs eyesâbut this time the wolf refused to shrink back. Frankâs heart hammered as he saw the bared fangs and slavering jaws. Any instant it would leap in for the kill!

âQuick! A rock!â Frank gasped.

Joe looked around desperately and snatched up a heavy, jagged stone. He hurled it with all his might at the wolf. The rock hit the beast squarely in the head and the wolf collapsed, with blood oozing from the wound.

A chorus of low growls rose from the pack. The wolves seemed cowed by their leaderâs downfall, but their nostrils had caught the scent of blood.

âRun for it!â Frank yelled.

Joe turned and plunged into the narrow passageway. Frank followed but more slowly, keeping his light aimed back at the wolves. The pack was gathering around its downed leader, sniffing and growling at the carcass.

Suddenly Frank heard a cry from Joe. It faded abruptly somewhere in the distance.

âJoe! Are you all right?â Frank glanced around hastily but saw only darkness.

A loud snarl drew his attention back toward the main cave. Glowing eyes were peering into the passage as if the wolves were nerving themselves for a renewed attack. Frank backed away fast, hoping to keep them dazzled with the flashlight beam.

Suddenly the ground seemed to end. His foot encountered only empty space!

The next instant Frank was plunging downward through a narrow hole. Instinctively he doubled up and a moment later landed hard amid dirt and rubble.

Frank was breathless from the jolting shock. Luckily he was still clutching the flashlight. He rolled quickly to his feet and played the beam around. A surge of relief swept over him.

Joe was lying on the ground only a few feet away. He, too, had fallen through the hole, but apparently had retained enough presence of mind to roll clear before Frank fell on him.

âWhew!â Joe was struggling for breath. âHad the wind knocked out of metâ As Frank helped him to his feet, he asked, âWhat about those wolves?â

âGuess they wonât bother us down here,â Frank replied. He shone his flashlight up the hole, which seemed to be a natural chimney in the rock, but he could see nothing.

Meanwhile, Joe was examining the area into which they had fallen. This too appeared to be a passageway, but larger than the one they had ducked into while escaping from the wolves.

âFrankâlook!â Joe exclaimed.

âWhatâs the matter?â

âTimbering!â Joeâs beam picked out a few moldy uprights and crossbeams, still in position at intervals along the passage despite years of disuse. âThis place is a mine tunnel!â

âYouâre right!â Frankâs voice quivered with excitement. âThis must be the tunnel of the Lone Tree diggings that Dawson told us about!â

âFeels like cold air coming from over there,â Joe said, glancing toward his right. A curve of the tunnel prevented them from seeing more than ten yards in that direction, but Joe reasoned, âThe entrance must be at that end.â

Frank agreed and added, âSo the chamber with the bluish dirt walls would be the other way. Come on. Letâs find out!â

Shining their flashlights ahead, the Hardys plodded on. The tunnel was wide enough for them to proceed side by side, but at times they had to duck their heads to avoid bumping them on a crossbeam or a low-hanging clump of rock. Presently the boysâ excitement grew as they noticed blue-gray streaks appearing in the earth of the tunnel walls.

âThere it is!â Frank cried suddenly.

Far ahead, dimly revealed by the glow of their flashlights, the tunnel opened out into a wider cavern. The boys sprinted forward eagerly. As they burst into the underground chamber, Joe gave a low shout of triumph.

The walls of the cavern were veined with bluish clay!

âThis is the place, all right!â Joe exclaimed.

The Hardys excitedly shone their flashlights around the chamber. Several rusty picks and shovels lay scattered about, abandoned by the miners who had worked there many, many years before. The floor of the cavern was hard-packed, but in a few moments Frank and Joe discovered a heap of earth which looked as though at some time it had been dug up, then replaced.

âGrab a shovel, Joe!â Frank said. âIâll bet this is where Dawson buried the gold! Letâs see if itâs still here!â

Both boys set to work. Though the spot was not rocky, the digging was difficult. Frank exchanged his shovel for a pick and began loosening the earth. Then he switched to a shovel again and helped Joe scoop out the dislodged dirt and gravel. After several minutes the Hardys were streaming with perspiration from the exhausting job.

âBoy! No wonder miners use dynamite!â Joe took off his heavy jacket. Frank, too, removed his and the boys returned to the digging. Their flashlights had been propped nearby to illuminate the spot.

Suddenly a yellowish-brown patch showed beneath the dirt. The boys frantically scraped and shoveled away the earth in a frenzy of anticipation.

A moment later they could make out four bulging leather pokes buried in the hole. As Frank beamed his flashlight into it, Joe tipped up a bag. Suddenly one side of the rotting leather burst open and gleaming yellow coins poured from it! The other bags held nuggets.

âDawsonâs and Onslowâs gold!â Frank cried out.

The boys dropped to their knees, tense with excitement.

âWow! Imagine how Mike Onslow will feel when he gets the news!â Joe exclaimed.

âHe never will!â said a harsh voice directly behind the Hardys.

Frank swung the flashlight around. Not ten feet away stood a glowering man.

âBig Al!â Joe gasped.

âThatâs right.â The gang leader gave an ugly laugh. âThanks for finding the gold, kids. Too bad youâll never live to enjoy it!â

CHAPTER XX

Windy Peak Prisoner

âWHAT do you intend to do?â Frank demanded.

âWhat do you think?â Big Al rasped. âIâm going to get rid of you brats for keeps.â

âYouâve tried before,â Joe said defiantly.

âI sure have.â Big Alâs face was hard. âSince your paâs a big detective, I tried to fix you so it would look like an accident. Then I made out like Iâd gone over the cliff and got killed. But you punks were still camping there next morningâso I swiped your horses, figuring youâd wind up starved or frozen, and nothing could be pinned on me. That didnât work either.â

Frank regarded the outlaw coolly. âSo?â

âSo now, Iâve got the gold and thatâs all that matters. You kidsâll never leave here alive.â The outlawâs hand went to the holster he was wearing.

âClick off your light, Joelâ Frank said in a whisper, snapping off his own.

As Big Al snaked out his gun, the cavern was plunged into darkness. Frank and Joe dived clear of his line of fire and clawed for their shovels.

The outlawâs gun thundered as both boys hurled their shovels toward the spurt of flame. There was a thud and a cry of pain. At least one of the shovels had found its target!

The boys closed in on Big Al. Frank found the outlawâs gun arm and levered it backward with both hands. Joe was busy on the other side.

Big Al fought like a madman, but Frank and Joe hung on. The outlaw screeched in pain as Frank applied bone-cracking pressure to his wrist, and a moment later the gun dropped from Big Alâs numbed fingers. Frank heard it fall and for an instant slackened pressure as he kicked the revolver out of reach.

The momentary diversion gave Big Al the chance he needed. Digging his fingers into Joeâs throat, he hurled the boy hard against the rocky wall. Joe sank to the ground, stunned.

âNow Iâll take care of you, kid!â Big Al snarled at Frank.

The huge outlaw was more than a match for Frank alone. Frank fought desperately to maintain his hold, but Big Al grabbed his shoulder, jerked him loose, and drove a punch to Frankâs face. Frank staggered back, tripped over a rock, and fell heavily to the ground.

âDonât try anything more or Iâll beat your brains out!â Big Al warned as he groped for his lost gun.

Meanwhile, Joe had recovered from the pounding Big Al had given him, and was feeling around stealthily for one of the shovels. His fingers closed around a wooden handle just as Big Al spoke. Seizing the implement, Joe sprang to his feet and swung hard in the direction of Big Alâs voice.

There was a thudding impact, a gasp, and the sound of a body hitting the ground.

âI got him, Frank!â Joe exclaimed. âAre you all right?â

âSureâjust woozy.â Frank pulled himself together and began searching for a flashlight. A moment later he found one and switched it on. Big Al lay stretched on the floor of the cavern, unconscious.

âGood work, Joe! I thought we were goners,â Frank confessed, still panting from the struggle. âLetâs tie him up before he comes to.â

The boys took off their belts and strapped the gang leaderâs wrists and ankles tightly. Then, with Frank taking his shoulders and Joe his legs, they managed to lug their prisoner through the mine tunnel. The outlawâs roan horse was standing outside, hitched to a rock.

âStay here and guard him,â Frank said to his brother as they dumped their prisoner across the horseâs back. âIâll go and get the gold.â

Making two trips, Frank hauled out the four bags. Then he stood watch over the unconscious outlaw while Joe went to retrieve their horses.

Joe soon sighted the two animals wandering through the snow along the foot of the mountainside. Evidently the scent of the wolves, or their snarling, had frightened the horses away from the cave.

Joe quickly rounded up their mounts and brought them back to the mouth of the mine tunnel. Big Al had not yet recovered consciousness and Frank was tying him fast to the roan.

âI found some rope in his saddlebag,â Frank explained.

The boys loaded the gold into their saddlebags, then Joe attached the lead rope of Big Alâs horse to the saddle of his own mount.

The outlaw was showing signs of reviving. Joe rubbed snow in his face to bring him around faster. As the manâs eyes opened, he roared with rage and struggled violently against his bonds. But he soon realized he was helpless.

Big Alâs face took on a sullen scowl. âI hope that gold brings you punks and Dawson and Onslow the same kind of bad luck it brought me!â he muttered viciously. âThat gold shouldâve been mine twenty-five years ago!â

âYou mean when you were Black Pepper, and you and your gang tried to snatch it from those four miners?â Joe asked.

âYou know that too, eh?â The outlaw glared at the Hardys. âAll right, itâs true. I was Black Pepper, and Iâd have had the gold if that skunk Dawson hadnât cheated me out of it!â

âCheated you?â Frank retorted sarcastically.

âBecause Iâd put sand and gravel in the gas tank of his plane. But he managed to take off, and after he crashed a bad storm came upâso we couldnât even find the wreck.â

Big Al went on bitterly, âOther jobs came up after that, and I was dodging lawmen. But I never forgot there was a fortune in gold somewhere in these mountains. When my men and I came up here to lie low after that payroll robbery, I figured this was my chance. Iâd have had the whole loot if it hadnât been for you!â

âArenât you forgetting something?â Frank asked. âYouâd never have found where Dawson hid the gold if you hadnât overheard us talking at the cabin.â

Big Al laughed harshly. âSure. Even before you two showed up, I was hidinâ in the horse shed attached to the cabin and was tryinâ to find out what was goinâ on. But once I wised up to the fact that Dodge was really Dawson, Iâd have choked the truth out of him!â

âJust out of curiosity,â Joe said, âhow did you find the mine today? For that matter, how did you survive the storm?â

âIâm used to this country, kidâfound a snug place to hole up for the night,â Big Al said boastfully. âThis morning I spied your tracks leadinâ to that wolf cave. But I spotted the pack before I went barging in. So I searched around and found the real mine tunnel. After that, all I had to do was keep strikinâ matches till I saw where the tunnel ended.â

âCome on, Joe. Weâve spent enough time talking,â said Frank. âLetâs get started!â

The boys knew the trip back to Lucky Lode would be treacherous, especially with a heavy load of gold and the task of keeping a close eye on Big Al. They quickly mounted and started off. Just as the trio emerged from the valley, the Hardys shouted joyfully. They had sighted Hank Shale and Sheriff Kenner topping Lone Tree Ridge!

âBoys! Are you all right?â Hank yelled as he and the sheriff spurred forward to meet them.

Frank and Joe told their story and turned Big Al over to the sheriff. Hank had listened with growing astonishment and admiration.

âYou sure are wonders,â he said to Frank and Joe. âWe were afraid youâd be frozen stiff by now. And here youâre bringinâ back Big Al and the gold! And you solved the mystery oâ Bart Dawson!â

âYour pa should be mighty proud of you lads!â Sheriff Kenner added.

The boys grinned and Frank said, âIâm glad we could help out.â Then he asked the men, âHow did you get here?â

The sheriff explained that after handcuffing Slim and Jake, he and Hank had tried to follow the boys and the fleeing gang leader. But in the darkness, with the other two outlaws on their hands, the chase had proved impossible.

âSo we took âem back to Lucky Lode,â said Kenner. âWe arrested Burke. He made a full confession about being Slip Gunâthe gangâs spy in townâand pushing the boulder into Hankâs cabin. Later that day we started back to search for you. We looked everywhere and had just given up hope when we ran into Dodgeâor Dawson, ratherâon his way back and heard part of the story.â

âHowâs Dad?â Frank asked anxiously.

âDoinâ fine. Fact is, the doc says he can take the tape offân his ribs in another day or so,â Hank replied. âWe practically had to tie him down to keep him from cominâ along.â

Late that night the lights of Lucky Lode were sighted and by midnight the party rode into town.

Frank and Joe and their father held a warm reunion at Ben Tinkerâs cabin.

Dawson was also on hand as the boys told their story of finding the gold and capturing Big Al.

âI canât get over it,â said Ben Tinker. He chuckled. âRegardinâ you, Dawson, beinâ Dodge and you not knowinâ it. No wonder you didnât recognize me when I saw you one time up in Helena.â Ben cackled with satisfaction. âReckon now folksâll believe I ainât given to imagininâ things!â

Frank and Joe, glad the case was solved, wondered what kind of adventure would come their way next. They were soon to find out when confronted by The Shore Road Mystery.

Mr. Hardy looked proudly at his sons, then said, âIncidentally, boys, I had a call from Chicago after you left, saying the police had traced that phony taxi driver. Also, those friends of Big Alâs, Hopkins and his hoods, were rounded up, thanks to your phone tip. They all just made full confessions. By the way, Hopkins never had a chance to send Onslowâs map to Al. The gang was going to pull a bank holdup that afternoon, but your escape ruined their plans.â

âSpeaking of plans, I wonder what Mike Onslowâs will be when he learns heâs rich,â Frank mused.

Joe chuckled. âLetâs phone him first thing in the morning and find out. And Iâd give a mint to see Aunt Gertrudeâs face when she hears about the gold!â