THE GHOST AT SKELETON ROCK

A cryptic message from their famous detective father and a note secreted in a ventriloquistâ€™s dummy lead Frank and Joe Hardy on a dangerous search to the tropical islands in the Caribbean.

There the teen-age detectives are constantly beset by vicious henchmen of a criminal mastermind. Danger stalks the boysâ€™ every move, once in an isolated sugar mill, another time in a shark-infested sea. To add to their hazards, one of the young henchmen closely resembles Joe and fiendishly makes use of this strange coincidence. Through their resourcefulness and deductive reasoning, the brother sleuths ingeniously fit together the pieces of the baffling puzzle.

The climax of this exciting mystery, when Frank and Joe come face to face with the ghost at Skeleton Rock, will be as much of a surprise to the reader as it was to the young detectives themselves.

The boysâ€™ last ounce of strength was ebbing fast

Copyright Â© 1994, 1966, 1957 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 : 978-1-101-07651-4

2008 Printing

http://us.penguingroup.com

CHAPTER I

A Puzzling Message

âLETâS see if you can get us down in one piece, Frank!â Blond, seventeen-year-old Joe Hardy leaned forward in the airplane as his brother circled in for a landing at the Bayport airfield.

âDonât worry, Joe. If we crack up the first time, Iâll try again,â the dark-haired boy quipped. Frank, who was a year older than Joe, grinned as he eased the craft downward in a graceful turn.

A third occupant of the plane, the regular pilot, smiled and said, âYouâre doing fine, Frank.â Jack Wayne, lean-faced and tanned, was Mr. Hardyâs pilot on all his chartered flights. Today Jack was teaching the boys how to fly the six-place, single-engine plane which their father had purchased recently.

âThereâs a gusty wind, so come in at a slightly higher airspeed,â Jack reminded his pupil.

Frankâs pulse quickened as he lined up on the runway and reduced power. The beautiful blue-and-white craft descended in a normal glide.

The landing strip and parked planes below seemed to rush up at them, the details growing larger as Frank headed toward the ground.

âWatch out for those telephone lines!â Joe cried out.

The wires loomed squarely in front of the planeâs nose. If Frank had judged his glide angle correctly, the wires should be dropping below his field of vision. Instead, they seemed to be coming straight at the plane!

Frank gulped with panic. Would they crash? Trying hard to keep cool, he eased back on the wheel. With barely a split second to go, the ship nosed upward and cleared the wires!

Moments later, the planeâs wheels touched down in a perfect landing and the craft rolled to a stop. Frank climbed out after the others, feeling a bit weak.

âQuick thinking, boy!â Joe slapped his brother on the back. âOnly next time, please donât shave it so close!â

Frank heaved a sigh. âI didnât thinkâI just acted! How come you didnât take over, Jack?â

âI figured youâd do the right thingââthe pilot chuckledââand you did!â Suddenly his face clouded and he snapped his fingers. âI clean forgot to tell you!â

âWhat?â the boys chorused.

âA message your father gave me just before I took off from San Juan.â Early that morning Jack had returned after flying Mr. Hardy to Puerto Rico the previous day on a top-secret case. âSorry. Giving flying lessons must make me absent-minded.â He handed the boys a piece of paper.

ââFind Hugo purple turban,â â Frank and Joe read aloud. They stared at the paper, completely baffled by the cryptic message.

Jack went on to explain that Mr. Hardy had quickly jotted down the strange words, then handed the paper to him. âHe did say,â Jack added, âthat he couldnât give any more details right then. Heâd spotted a man he wanted to shadow.â

The boys racked their brains for a moment in silence. Neither could think of anyone in Bayport named Hugo.

âOh, well,â Frank said, smiling, âweâll try to figure it out later. Thanks for the flying lesson, Jack.â

After arranging for their next flight, the boys went to the parking lot, where they had left their convertible.

âIâll drive,â said Frank. In a few minutes the boys were headed toward their pleasant, tree-shaded home at Elm and High streets.

The dazzling June sun shone down on them as they talked over the odd message Jack had relayed.

âWeâll have to twirl our brains for this one,â Joe commented as they pulled into the Hardysâ gravel driveway. âI wonder who Hugo is. Someone in Bayport, maybe?â

âLetâs try the phone book,â Frank suggested. âHugo could be someoneâs last name.â

As the boys strode in through the kitchen door, their mother was trimming the crust on an apple pie. Each son gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then Frank said, âWeâre trying to figure out a code message from Dad. Have you any idea who âHugo purple turbanâ might be?â

Mrs. Hardy, slim and pretty, shook her head as she slid the pie into the oven. âNot the faintest, but it sounds like the start of another interesting case.â

Her husband, Fenton Hardy, had been a crack detective for years in the New York City Police Department. Later, when he retired and moved to the coastal town of Bayport, Mr. Hardy had become internationally famous as a private investigator. His two sons had skillfully assisted him on many of his cases.

Frank, intrigued by his fatherâs newest assignment, hurried to the telephone book, Joe at his heels, and leafed through the pages of names beginning with H.

âLetâs see now.â Frank moistened his finger. âHugo ... Hugo ... Here we are! Just three of them,â he added after a moment. âIt should be simple to find the right man.â

Joe dialed the first number. The quavering, high-pitched voice of an elderly woman answered the phone. In reply to Joeâs question, she snapped suspiciously, âA purple turban? What on earth are you talking about?â

Joe tried to explain. But the womanâs reaction was unfriendly, as if she suspected some kind of a hoax.

âYoung man, I canât make head nor tail of what youâre saying. Sounds to me as if youâre trying to be funnyâor else youâve got the wrong number!â

With a loud sniff, she hung up.

âWhew! Guess I didnât do too well on that one,â Joe told his brother. âNext time remind me not to sound like such a crackpot!â

Joe dialed another number. The listing on this one was âHugoâs Meat Market.â

âYah, Iâm Hugo,â said a voice in a heavy German accent.

Joe explained that he was doing some private detective work and was trying to locate a person named Hugo who had some connection with a purple turbanâor maybe someone known as âHugo Purple Turban.â

âAch, no, I never hear of anyone like that,â the butcher replied. âBut if you like some good knackwurst, just drop around any time!â

Frank chuckled as Joe hung up the phone. âWeâre getting nowhere fast. Let me try.â

The third Hugo listed was a Wilfred K., a jeweler and watch-repair expert.

ââHugo purple turban?â Hmm,â the man responded thoughtfully. âSounds to me as if it might refer to that fortuneteller.â

âFortuneteller?â

âThe Great Hugo, he calls himselfâat least thatâs the name painted on his trailer. He has a tent pitched beside the road, on Route 10, just north of town.â

âThanks a lot, sir!â Frank exclaimed, with a surge of excitement. âSounds like a swell lead!â

As he cradled the phone, a peppery feminine voice spoke up from behind the boys. âBefore you get too deep in another mystery, take my advice andââ

âOh, hi, Aunt Gertrude!â Joe smiled and turned around.

Frank said mischievously, âAunt Gertrudeâs just jealous, Joe, because she doesnât know all the facts!â

âNonsense!â retorted their aunt, a tall, angular woman, who was Mr. Hardyâs maiden sister.

Although Aunt Gertrude would never admit it, Frank and Joe knew that she was just as deeply intrigued by the Hardysâ cases as the boys and their father.

Frank told her about Mr. Hardyâs puzzling communication âHugo purple turbanâ and went on, âThe man I just talked to on the phone seemed to think it might refer to some fortuneteller called The Great Hugo.â

âThe Great Hugo! Why, of course!â Aunt Gertrudeâs eyes narrowed with a look of suspicion.

âDo you know him?â Joe asked eagerly.

âIâve heard about himâand what Iâve heard isnât good!â Miss Hardy explained that two women she knew had gone to have The Great Hugo tell their fortunes. After leaving his tent, they had discovered money missing from their handbags, which they had hung on the backs of their chairs.

âYou mean Hugo stole it?â Frank asked.

âWho else? Naturally, the women couldnât prove it,â Miss Hardy added, pursing her lips, âbut thereâs no doubt in their minds.â

The two boys exchanged glances. âHe could be the man weâre looking for,â Frank remarked.

Joe nodded. âLetâs check with Chief Collig.â

As head of the Bayport Police Department, Chief Collig had cooperated with the Hardys on many of their cases. When Frank telephoned him, the chief said that he was acquainted with The Great Hugo and had had complaints about him.

âHeâs as phony as a nine-dollar bill, but so far we havenât enough evidence to take him in.â

Frank thanked the chief, hung up, and passed the information to his brother.

âCome on! Letâs go have a look at Hugo!â Joe urged.

Frank backed the car out of the drive and headed for Route 10. North of town, they sighted a bright, orange-colored tent just off the road.

âThere it is,â Frank murmured, slowing down. The tent bore a sign reading:

THE GREAT HUGO
WORLD-FAMOUS MYSTIC
Private Readings by Appointment

Near the tent stood a house trailer of the same orange color. It was hitched to a battered but powerful-looking black hardtop coupÃ© of an expensive make.

Frank parked the convertible under a tree and the boys walked toward the tent. As they were about to enter, a man, at least six and a half feet tall, and with an extremely large head, loomed up in front of them, barring the way.

His swarthy, hook-nosed face gave the man a menacing air. But what jolted both boys were his clothes. He wore baggy trousers, Oriental slippers with pointed, curled-up toes, and a purple turban!

âWhat is it you wish?â he demanded in a deep, harsh voice.

âWe came to have our fortunes told,â Joe said evenly.

âI do not tell fortunesâI am only Abdul, a helper,â the man grunted. âYou wait outside. I go see if The Great Hugo will receive you.â

âWhat is it you wish?â he demanded, barring the way

Abdul entered the tent, dropping the flap across the entrance. Tense with excitement, the young detectives waited, but not for long. A moment later Abdul reappeared.

âI bring good news! The Great Hugo will see you at once!â he announced.

He drew aside the tent flap, bowed low, and invited the boys to enter. Cautiously they stepped into the gloomy interior. The walls of the tent were hung with dark draperies. Only the pale glow of a shaded lamp suffused the gloom. Soft rugs lay underfoot.

At a table covered with a silver-fringed black velvet cloth sat a slim, short man with a pointed brown beard. Before him on the table lay a crystal ball.

âSoâyou have come to have your fortunes told,â he murmured. âPlease be seated.â

As the boys sank down onto two leather hassocks, Hugoâs queer yellowish eyes seemed to be sizing them up shrewdly.

Stalling for time in order to observe the place carefully, Frank said, âBefore you start, sir, perhaps youâd better tell us how much itâs going to cost.â

The Great Hugo waved his hand carelessly. âMy usual fee is five dollars. But since I am not busy today I will take you both for two dollars.â

The boys reached for their wallets and produced one dollar apiece. Hugo whisked the bills out of sight, then concentrated his gaze on the crystal ball. In a few moments he seemed to go into a trance.

âI see an airplaneâa trip over water,â the fortuneteller said in a droning voice. âThe scene in the crystal ball is changing.... I see trouble! Danger!â

Suddenly Frank felt a hand groping into his pocket. Gripping the thiefâs wrist, he whirled around. It was Abdul!

âOh, no, you donât!â Frank exclaimed, jumping up and forcing the man backward. But with lightning speed the brawny fellow stunned him with a blow on the chin. Frank staggered groggily.

Joe leaped to his brotherâs aid. But he was quickly grabbed by Abdul. As Joe struggled to get away from the giant, he knocked over the table and crystal ball.

In one end of the tent Hugo the Mystic was shouting commands to Abdul, and edging toward a position behind the three. A moment later black hoods were thrown over the boysâ heads.

âLetâs get rid of them, Abdul, and leaveâquick!â Hugo growled.

CHAPTER II

The Suspicious Trailer

THEIR heads covered, Frank and Joe were hurled to the ground. Resistance was futile. Quickly their hands and feet were bound. Then they were dragged out of the tent and into some bushes. Footsteps indicated their attackers had left.

âJoe! Joe, can you hear me?â Frank shouted. The hood muffled his voice, but he was able to make out Joeâs response.

âRight here, Frank.â

From a short distance away came confused sounds as if the tent were being quickly taken down and stowed in the trailer. Soon the engine of a car roared to life and the vehicle went rumbling off down the highway.

Meanwhile, the boys twisted and turned in a frantic effort to loosen their bonds. This was not the only time they had found themselves in a predicament like this one.

Ever since their first big case, The Tower Treasure, the brothers had often been in tight spots. But always their quick, cool thinking had enabled them to outwit their adversaries. In their most recent mystery, they had survived underwater spear-gun attacks and other dangers to learn The Secret of Piratesâ Hill.

By the time Frank got his hands free, his wrists were rubbed nearly raw. He jerked the black hood off his head and saw Joe still straining to free himself.

âHere! Iâll do it!â Frank offered.

Quickly he removed his brotherâs hood. In a few moments both were free and on their feet.

Joe peered at the tire tracks of the vanished car and trailer. âThey made a neat getaway,â he said bitterly.

âWhich means The Great Hugo must have been the Hugo we want!â Frank said grimly.

âThen what are we waiting for?â Joe sprinted toward the convertible. âLetâs go after him!â

Before leaving, Frank insisted that they examine the tire treads of both the vanished car and the trailer. Then the boys ran to their convertible. Frank gunned the engine and they took off in a spurt of sand and gravel. Luckily, Route 10 ran straight north for almost twelve miles before intersecting another major highway.

En route there were several dirt-road turnoffs. Frank and Joe stopped at each one and got out to inspect all tire marks on them. But they found no sign of the vehicles belonging to Hugo and Abdul.

âProbably theyâre heading out of the county,â Joe remarked.

âWait a minute. Letâs try this trailer court up ahead,â Frank suggested. It was located less than half a mile from the highway intersection.

He braked the car and swung over onto the shoulder of the road. Again the boys climbed out.

âItâs a hundred-to-one shot,â Frank admitted, âbut Hugo might have turned in here to throw us off the trail.â

âHeâll have a tough time hiding that orange trailer,â Joe said. âSay look!â He broke off with a gasp and grabbed Frankâs arm. âOver there!â

Frank turned to face the direction in which his brother was staring. An orange trailer!

Though partly hidden from view by other vehicles, the trailer looked like the one used by Hugo and Abdul. The boys approached it casually, trying not to attract any attention.

Their hopes, however, were soon dashed. Frilly lace curtains showed in the windows of the trailer. In front of it a fat, baldheaded man in Bermuda shorts lounged in a deck chair. A moment later a woman came out, carrying a baby.

Frank smiled to hide his disappointment. âOkay. So our long shot didnât pay off.â

âNow what?â

Frank considered. âOnce Hugo hits the cross-road, thereâs no telling which way heâll head. Guess we better notify the police.â

Across the highway from the trailer court was a roadside store with a gasoline pump. The boys hurried over and put through a call to Chief Collig on the storeâs pay phone.

âIâll send out a radio alert,â the officer promised, after hearing Frankâs story. âMaybe the highway patrol can pick those men up before they cross the state line.â

âThanks, Chief! Weâll keep in touch,â said Frank.

Somewhat dejectedly, the boys plodded back to their convertible. âWhat a wild-goose chase!â Frank groaned.

On the way back to Bayport, Joe brightened suddenly as a thought struck him. âMaybe we could spot Hugoâs trailer from the air. That bright-orange trailer ought to stand out on any road!â

Frank agreed. âWe can ask Jack Wayne to take us up,â he said.

When they reached home, Frank parked the convertible in the driveway and the boys hurried into the house. Before they were halfway through the kitchen, the telephone rang.

âMaybe itâs Chief Collig with some news!â Joe exclaimed. He reached the hall first and scooped up the phone. âHello.â

âThis is Chet, Joe,â came a breathless voice over the wire. âSomethingâs up! I need help right awayâover at my place.â

Chet Morton, a chubby pal of the Hardys, attended Bayport High with them. Good-natured and fond of eating, he was usually slow moving and easy going. But now his voice throbbed with fearful urgency.

âChet! Whatâs this all about?â Joe demanded.

âI canât explain over the phone, but get here fast,â his friend pleaded. âThis is important!â

âOkay. Weâll be there pronto.â

âWhatâs wrong?â Frank asked as Joe hung up.

âSearch me. Chet seems to be all worked up. Sounds as if heâs in real trouble. He wants us to come out to the farm on the double.â

âAll right. But first let me call Jack Wayne.â

Snatching up the phone, Frank dialed Jackâs cubbyhole office at the airport. When the pilot answered, Frank gave him a quick account of their adventures with Hugo and Abdul. Jack was thunderstruck to learn that the brothers were already on the trail of âHugo purple turban.â

âJoe and I figure,â Frank went on, âthat the quickest way to spot the trailer is from the air. Could you go up and reconnoiter a bit?â

âSure,â Jack replied.

Frank described the hardtop coupÃ© and orange trailer, then hung up and hurried out to the car with Joe. Twenty minutes later they reached the Morton farmhouse on the outskirts of Bayport.

The boys ran up to the front door and rang the bell. Two pretty girls answered the door. One was Chetâs dark-haired sister, Iola. The other, a blonde with sparkling brown eyes, was her chum, Callie Shaw. The two girls often double-dated Frank and Joe.

âWell! Imagine meeting you two here!â said Iola in pleased surprise.

âYouâre just in time,â Callie said. She held up a puppet dressed like Little Red Ridinghood. âWe were just practicing for a puppet show weâre going to give at the hospital bazaar. You two can help usââ

âWhereâs Chet?â Joe interrupted.

âWhy, out in the barn,â said Iola. âButââ

âCome on, Frank!â

Without waiting to explain, Frank and Joe rushed outside and headed around the side of the barn to the rear. Voices became more audible at every step. Suddenly both boys pulled up short and stared at each other in amazement.

âDid you hear somebody mention the name Hugo?â Joe whispered breathlessly.

Freezing in their tracks, the Hardys listened intently.

âWeâll get the Hardys and get âem good, Hugo!â said a rough voice.

âYeah,â came the chuckling reply. âWeâll ambush them tonight!â

CHAPTER III

The Hijacked Dummy

âAMBUSH?â Joe flashed his brother a startled glance.

Frank clenched his fists. âI donât know whatâs going on back there, but letâs find out!â

With their hearts thumping and their fists ready for trouble, the Hardys dashed around the corner of the barn, then stopped dead in open-mouthed astonishment. The only person in sight was Chet Morton, propped up against the back of the barn.

âHi, fellows!â he greeted them, lifting his eyebrows in an innocent, deadpan look. âExpecting someone else?â

âBut where are those two men we heard?â Joe asked in surprise.

âYouâre looking at âem, pal. Both of âem!â Chet replied.

To prove this, he switched over to his two âtough guyâ voices and uttered a few more blood-curdling threats.

âYou?â Frank could hardly believe his ears.

âThatâs right.â The stout boy chuckled. âA slight case of ventriloquism, gentlemen. Learned it from books. Thought it might come in handy helping you fellows on your cases.â He burst into laughter. âOh, boy, did you two ever fall for my actâhook, line, and sinker!â

âAnd that phone call begging for help?â Joe growled. âThat was just a trick, too, to get us over here?â

Chet nodded. âBut donât hold it against me.â

The Hardy boys grinned, then Frank said, âYou sure fooled us. Iâll say youâre good.â

âI sure am!â Chet agreed. âIn fact, I may make a career out of ventriloquism,â he went on, turning serious. âMan, I can see myself now, doing a big show on television! Chet Morton, Man of Many VoicesâWorldâs Greatest Imitator!â

This time it was the Hardysâ chance to needle their friend. âWorldâs Greatest Appetite, you mean!â Joe hooted. âOtherwise known as Chet Morton, Man of Many Helpings!â

Chetâs moonface took on a hurt look. âOkay, okay. Just because I happen to appreciate good food,â he sulked. âIf you fellows donât think Iâm ready for the big time, just listen to this.â

He jerked his thumb toward the house and whispered, âHere comes my pesky cousin, Jinny.â

A moment later a little girlâs shrill, whiny voice seemed to come drifting around the corner of the barn:

âOh, Chet! Your mother says you better get in the house right this minute and start cleaning up the basement! Yâhear me? You better come quick, or Iâm gonna tell her just where youâre hiding!â

The boys were amazed at the demonstration. Chetâs lips had hardly moved.

âThatâs pretty convincing, Chet,â said Frank.

Chet looked somewhat mollified. âIt ought to be good,â he bragged. âIâve been studying and practicing secretly a whole month. Iâm even thinking of buying a Hugo!â

âA Hugo?â Frank and Joe gasped together.

âSure,â Chet said calmly. âThe same kind of dummy Professor Fox uses.â

âOh!â The Hardys relaxed as they recalled the act to which Chet was referring. Professor Fox was a star ventriloquist on TV. His dummy, Hugo, had become so popular that it was being copied and sold on a large scale. The dummy came in various-priced models.

âIâm going to get the most expensive Hugo on the market,â Chet bragged. âIâve been saving to buy it by doing extra chores around the farm. I have enough money now.â

Just then Chetâs bull terrier, Spud, came wandering out to see what was going on.

âWatch me fool him,â Chet said with a wink at his friends. âOver there, boy!â

He pointed to a clump of bushes and threw his voice once again:

âHere, Spud! Come on, boy! Got a nice thick juicy steak for you! Come on, fella!â

Instead of responding, the bull terrier stood still, eyeing his master quizzically.

Chet lost his temper. âWell, go on, dopey. Whatâre you waiting for?â The bull terrier merely panted and wagged his tail.

âWow! Did you ever fool him!â Frank gibed. Both he and Joe doubled up with laughter.

Chet turned beet red and grumpily threw his dog a stick to chase. Then he casually suggested, âLetâs get some lemonade and cookies.â

On the way back to the house, Joe said thoughtfully, âSome of those Hugos come with Oriental turbans, donât they, Chet?â

âThe better models do,â replied the stout boy. âWhy?â

âOh, just a hunch I had about something.â Turning to his brother, Joe went on, âDo you suppose Dadâs message might have referred to one of those dummies?â

Frank nodded. âItâs an idea.â

âDonât tell me you fellows are wrestling with another mystery?â Chet inquired uneasily.

âRight. And youâre just the one to help us solve it,â Joe told Chet, slapping him on the back.

âNot me!â Chet protested with a shudder.

Getting involved in the Hardysâ crime cases always gave Chet the jitters, although the roly-poly high-school boy had already been through several dangerous adventures with Joe and Frank.

âThis wonât get you into any danger,â Joe assured him. Hastily he explained about the puzzling message which Mr. Hardy had sent from Puerto Rico.

âWhere do I come in?â Chet asked suspiciously.

âWhen you go shopping for a Hugo dummy, just keep your eyes open. Better yet, let us go with you. Maybe weâll run across some kind of a clue.â

âWe-e-ell ... I guess I can go along that far with you,â Chet agreed grudgingly.

âWhere did you plan on buying your dummy?â Frank asked.

âBiwenâs Novelty Shop. Thatâs where Iâve been getting all my books on ventriloquism.â

âOkay. Letâs go!â

After stopping in the house for lemonade with the girls and to pick up Chetâs wallet, the three boys piled into the convertible and drove off. A few minutes later they pulled up in front of the novelty shop on King Street.

A bell tinkled as they walked in and Mr. Bivven, the squat, baldheaded proprietor, came out of the back room to greet them.

He beamed at the trio across the counter. âSomething youâd like, boys?â

Chet said he wanted to look over the storeâs stock of ventriloquistâs dummies.

One by one, Mr. Biwen showed his stock, but Chet turned them all down and asked for a Hugo dummy. The proprietor went to his storeroom and emerged presently with a cardboard box. It contained a Hugo dummy, clad in a tuxedo and red turban.

âI just received this today,â Mr. Biwen said. Taking out the dummy, Chet set it on the counter and began putting on an impromptu ventriloquist act.

Frank watched, chuckling, for a moment. Then he picked up the instruction sheet which was lying in the box and began to read it. The simple directions were printed in three languagesâEnglish, French, and Spanish.

The doorbell tinkled again and two men entered the shop. One was tall and rough-looking, with large ears that stuck out from his head; the other was short and swarthy-complexioned.

Joe, who was standing alongside Chet and Frank, watched the men out of the corner of his eye. They stopped in front of a trayful of water pistols and began picking them over. It looked as though they were killing time until the proprietor could wait on them.

âOkay. I guess Iâll take this one,â Chet decided finally.

As he pulled out his wallet to pay for the dummy, Mr. Biwen put the figure back in the box and started to wrap it.

âGood thing you stopped in today, son,â he remarked chattily. âThis hereâs the only Hugo in stock. If youâd waited any longer, I reckon youâd have been plumb out oâ luck.â

âJust a minute!â said the tall man, stepping forward. âThat dummy is exactly what I been lookinâ for. How much is the kid payinâ for it?â

âEighteen dollars and ninety-five cents.â

âThen Iâll give you twenty bucks!â

Mr. Biwen hesitated. He hated to lose the extra profit, but Chet was a good customer and he didnât want to offend him.

âNope. Iâm sorry, the dealâs already closed.â

âTwenty-five!â

Mr. Biwen gulped and shook his head. âI told you before, mister, itâs no go. First come, first served. Dummyâs already sold to Chet here.â

Grinning triumphantly, Chet counted out the money. But as the proprietor turned to ring up the sale on the cash register, the short man suddenly whipped out a shiny, blue-steel revolver.

âItâs a cinch that gunâs no toy!â thought Joe, wincing.

âWe want that dummy!â snarled the short man.

As Chet stood quaking, the tall fellow grabbed Hugo off the counter!

CHAPTER IV

A Double Burglary

THE armed intruders kept the boys and Mr. Bivven covered as they backed hastily toward the door with the Hugo dummy.

âDonât try any hero stuff and donât call the cops after we leave,â warned the swarthy gunman. âIf you do, youâll sure regret it!â

Then the tall man jerked open the door and the two dashed out to a car parked at the curb. Frank and Joe rushed to the window just in time to see the short man slide behind the wheel.

âWatch it, fellows,â Chet begged.

Pale and trembling with excitement, he half expected to see the storeâs show window shattered by a hail of bullets. Instead, the engine roared and the car, a green sedan, sped away.

âNo luck on the license number!â Joe groaned. âThe rear plate was caked with mud.â

âAfter them!â Frank cried, dashing out the door.

The Hardys leaped into their convertible and took off. Luckily, traffic was light. In the distance Joe caught a glimpse of the getaway car. âThere it is!â he yelled.

Frank speeded up. The green car whined in a turn to the right at the next intersection. As the convertible followed, the other car suddenly put on a fresh burst of speed.

âThey must have spotted us in their rear-view mirror,â Frank muttered through clenched teeth.

As the chase continued, the green car shot through a stop sign. When the boys reached the crossing, a stream of traffic barred the way. Then a huge tank truck halted for a left turn, completely blocking the intersection. By the time the route was clear, the getaway car was nowhere in sight.

âWhat luck!â Joe groaned.

The boys cruised around for a while, hoping to locate the trail again, but finally gave up.

âGuess we may as well go back and get Chet,â Frank sighed.

A police squad car was parked in front of the novelty shop. When the Hardys walked in, Mr. Biwen was relating the details of the holdup to the officers.

âThese are the boys,â he said, nodding at Frank and Joe.

âAny luck tracing the thieves?â one of the officers asked.

Frank shook his head glumly. âWe couldnât even get their license number.â

He gave a detailed description of the green sedan, and also reported the general route which the thieves had taken.

âIâll put it on the radio right away,â said the other policeman. âThereâs still a chance we can stop âem before they get out of town.â He hurried outside to the squad car.

The other officer took down the names and addresses of everyone involved, then left the shop.

âToo bad, Chet,â Joe sympathized. âLooks as if youâre out of luck for a dummy today.â

âYouâre telling me,â the young ventriloquist answered gloomily.

âDonât be too sure of that,â put in Mr. Biwen with a grin.

âHuh?â Chetâs eyes popped. âWhat do you mean?â

âI mean there might just be another Hugo back in the storeroom. Dummies have been selling quickly, but while I was talking to those officers, I suddenly remembered tucking another box up on the top shelf. But donât get your hopes too high till I make sure.â

Chet waited in eager suspense. A few moments later Mr. Biwen reappeared, beaming triumphantly. âYes! Got one right here.â

âHot ziggety!â Chet pounced on the box in delight, ripping off the cover. As he pulled out the dummy, both Frank and Joe gave a yelp of excitement.

This one wore a purple turban!

âMy stars!â Mr. Biwen chuckled. âSeems like you two are just as het-up as your friend here about finding this extra Hugo. But I reckon thatâs only natural, seeing as how you took your lives in your hands trying to save the other one.â

Frank and Joe merely smiled and made no effort to explain their jubilation. But the same thought was passing through both their minds. Could this be the âHugo purple turbanâ referred to in their fatherâs message? And had the two men made off with the wrong dummy?

Meanwhile, Chet was putting the new Hugo through its paces. âBoy, this is for me!â he gloated. âIâll work with it at home this evening!â

As the proprietor wrote out the sales check, Joe examined the dummy but could find nothing unusual about it. Frank again glanced at the instruction sheet. This one was also printed in the same three languages.

Suddenly Frankâs eyes narrowed. âThatâs funny,â he muttered under his breath.

âWhatâs funny?â Joe asked.

âThese directions. The ones in French and English are the same as those which came with the other dummy. But the directions in Spanish are different.â

Both boys could read French and Spanish.

âYouâre sure?â Joe asked.

âPositive.â After Mr. Biwen finished writing out the sales check and tore off a copy for Chet, Frank asked the man, âDoes any other store in Bayport sell the Hugo dummies?â

âYouâd like one too, eh?â The proprietor smiled. âWell, now, let me think.â He paused and scratched his chin. âMight try Hanadeâs over on Bay Street.â

âHanadeâs?â

âThatâs right. Nice elderly Japanese. Runs a puppet-repair shop, and handles all kinds of interesting doodads.â

The Hardys thanked him and left the store with Chet. Outside, their stout pal asked Frank why he was so interested in finding another dealer.

âDonât tell me youâre going to take up ventriloquism, too?â he teased.

âNot a chance,â Frank replied, and explained about the curious difference in the instructions. He added, âIt might be a fluke, or it might mean something. Anyhow, Iâd like to check another set of instructions.â

Hanadeâs Puppet Repair Shop did, indeed, carry âall kinds of doodads.â The tiny store was crammed with Oriental trinkets, samurai swords, brass Buddhas, dollsâ heads hanging on the wall, birds and bird cages, aquariums with darting tropical fish, and numerous other items.

Mr. Hanade was a small, bespectacled, pleasant gentleman. âAh, yes,â he replied to Frankâs question. âI carry the Hugo puppets. Made by a very fine company. Every puppet carefully inspected by owner before he sends it out. Which kind do you wish to see?â

âThe model with a turban, like this one my friend has,â replied Joe as Chet displayed his Hugo.

âYou wait, please. I check.â

Mr. Hanade returned shortly with a box containing a Hugo similar to Chetâs, but it wore a green turban. Ignoring the dummy, Frank took out the instruction sheet and compared it with the one in Chetâs box.

âYouâre right,â Joe muttered, reading over Frankâs shoulder. âThe Spanish wording is a little different!â

Frank asked if he might borrow Mr. Hanadeâs sheet of instructions overnight, and offered to leave a dollar on deposit. Though puzzled, the man agreed politely.

âYou take, please. No deposit necessary.â

âThank you,â said Chet, and the boys left the shop.

Before dropping Chet at the farm, Joe said impulsively, âSay, fellows, do you think Professor Fox could be mixed up in anything shady?â

Chet declared that the TV performer had a fine reputation, and he was sure that the man was above suspicion. Frank agreed with this.

That evening after supper Frank and Joe huddled around the study lamp in their room, with the two sets of instructions in front of them. They were identical in every way, except for the change in the Spanish wording.

âWhat do you make of it?â Joe asked his brother.

Frank furrowed his brow. âMight be some kind of a code. Letâs compare all the word changes and see what we get.â

They had barely started on this job when the hall telephone rang. Joe took the call.

âThis is Chief Collig,â came a crisp voice. âUnderstand you and your brother were at Biwenâs Novelty Shop this afternoon when the owner got robbed.â

âThatâs right. In fact, we chased the holdup men.â

âAnything to do with a case your fatherâs working on, Joe?â

âCould be, sir. Weâre not sure.â

âWell, if youâre interested, the place was robbed again tonight. Or, anyhow, it was broken into and ransacked.â

âWhat! âJoe cried out.

âHappened just about twenty minutes ago,â the chief went on. âA patrolman walking past heard some noises and figured something funny was going on. When he went to investigate, the burglars ducked out the back way.â

âThanks for the tip, Chief,â Joe said. âFrank and I will go right over there.â

Frank was equally startled when he heard about the burglary. âI wonder if those men stole the wrong Hugo, and came back for another try!â

âSure sounds that way,â Joe agreed, âbut they must have heard Mr. Biwen say it was his last Hugo in stock.â

The two boys drove through the darkened streets of Bayport to the novelty shop on King Street. The store was ablaze with light, but no squad car stood at the scene. Apparently the police detectives had already left, but there was a patrolman on guard at the door.

The Hardys identified themselves, and Frank added, âChief Collig just phoned us the news.â

âHe called me too,â said the patrolman, and let them enter.

Mr. Biwen was busy straightening up the store. âOh, itâs you boys,â he murmured, glancing up as the doorâs bell tinkled.

Most of the toys, dolls, and scale models had already been neatly replaced on the shelves.

âSorry to hear the news, Mr. Biwen,â Frank said. âExactly what happened?â

The proprietor shrugged and sighed. âPlace was ransacked but nothing taken. Dratted nuisance! Burglars twice in one day! I just canât figure it out. Still, I reckon Iâm lucky it wasnât any worse.â

âMind if we look around for clues?â Frank asked.

âGo ahead, but the police have already done so.â

As the boys poked about the store, Mr. Biwen bent down behind the counter. A moment later he stood up.

âNow thatâs strange,â he remarked with a puzzled frown. âSeems as though someoneâs been fiddling with my sales checks.â

âSales checks!â Frank was struck by a sudden fear.

âYes. Had âem stashed away in order down here. Now theyâre all messed up.â

âAny missing?â

Mr. Biwen scratched his bald head. âWell, now, thatâs a mite hard to say without checking the cash-register tape.â

Frank said urgently, âNever mind the rest. Just look for the one you wrote up for our friend this afternoon. The name was MortonâChet Morton.â

âSure, sure, I remember. Let me see.â Mr. Bivven brought out the sheaf of slips, thumbed through them several times, then looked up in surprise. âBy jingo, that oneâs gone. Those burglars must have taken it!â

âThatâs what I surmised,â Frank said. âThey came back to check on who had purchased other dummies lately and found out Chet had one!â

âThat means Chetâs in danger!â Joe said grimly. âAnd maybe Iola and their dad and mother!â Turning to Mr. Bivven, he asked, âMay I use your phone?â

âSure thing.â

Thoroughly alarmed by now, Joe scooped up the telephone and dialed Chetâs number. At the other end of the line, he could hear a steady series of rings. But after a minute he gave up.

âNo answer,â he reported to Frank. âCome on! Letâs get out there fast!â

The boys dashed out of the store, leaped into the convertible, and headed for the Morton farm. Once outside of town, Frank switched on the long-range lights. The twin beams probed the darkness as they sped along.

Neither boy spoke, but both were gripped by the same fear. Was the Morton family in trouble? Why had no one answered the phone when Chet had said he would be at home?

Presently the farmhouse loomed up against the night sky. The windows were dark.

âI donât like this,â Frank said grimly.

CHAPTER V

A Startling Discovery

FRANK jammed on the brakes and the convertible lurched to a halt in the Mortonsâ driveway. The boys jumped out and sprinted up the front-porch steps.

As Joe rang the doorbell, Frank noticed that the front door stood slightly ajar.

âItâs open!â he whispered.

Fearful of some danger, Frank and Joe cautiously entered the hall. Like all the rest of the house, the living room was shrouded in darkness. Frank, in the lead, groped for the light switch.

Joeâs scalp bristled when he heard some faint, whimpering noises. The sounds were muffled and scarcely seemed human.

Frank found the light switch and clicked it on. As the room leaped into brilliance, both boys exclaimed aloud.

Chet, Iola, and Mr. and Mrs. Morton were lying on the floor, bound and gagged!

âJumpinâ catfish!â Joe gulped.

The Hardys rushed forward and quickly started to untie the victims.

âOh, my gracious! Thank you, thank you!â Chetâs mother gasped as Frank removed her gag and undid the ropes.

âLuckily none of you were harmed, Mrs. Morton,â he replied. Gently he helped her to her feet and then to the sofa.

Chet, however, was not so grateful. âI thought you fellows promised me there wouldnât be any rough stuff on this case!â he grumbled while Joe worked on a knot.

âWhat happened?â Frank asked.

The story tumbled out in a confused babble as the whole Morton family gave the details. They had been watching a television show in their living room when two masked men burst in. The intruders had tied up the Mortons, then searched the house and made off with something tucked under one manâs arm.

âIâm willing to bet theyâre the same ones who held up the novelty shop this afternoon,â Chet asserted. âOne was a tall man and the other short. The tall guyâs ears stuck out!â

Frank and Joe looked at each other in dismay. âI guess that means they took Hugo,â said Joe.

Frank nodded, then said to the Mortons, âPlease check and make sure what was stolen.â

The family scattered through the rooms of the rambling farmhouse to inspect the results of the burglary. Iola was the first to report.

âI know one thing they took!â she cried out, running downstairs from her bedroom.

âWhat?â asked Joe.

âOne of my big puppets. It looked something like Chetâs new dummyâeven wore a purple turban.â

âHot dog!â Joe snapped his fingers. âIâll bet those burglars were in such a hurry they grabbed the wrong doll!â

The boysâ hopes skyrocketed, but Frank added cautiously, âLetâs not count our chickens till we hear from Chet.â

The words were hardly spoken when Chet came lumbering joyfully onto the scene. He was clutching Hugo in one hand. âLook! Heâs still here!â Chet gloated. âI had him stowed in my closet, inside a pillowcase, and those men passed it up!â

The boys let out a whoop of triumph. Then Joe put in a wry afterthought:

âNow all we have to do is find out why those thieves were so eager to get hold of Hugo.â

While Frank telephoned a report to Chief Collig, Iola made hot cocoa for everyone. As they sat in the living room drinking it, Chet gulped down three cupfuls. Then he laid his cup and saucer aside and picked up Hugo.

âAnd now, ladies and gentlemen,â the young ventriloquist announced, âweâll forget what happened and have a quick performance to show you whatâs to come later on my full-time television show!â

He set the dummy on his knee and proceeded to roll its huge popeyes from side to side. Then, as he manipulated Hugoâs head and jaws, Chet went into his act. Many of his gags drew laughs from his audience.

Gaining confidence, Chet launched into a long, windy speechâat the same time working Hugoâs head, arms, and legs in a wildly comical manner. Leaning forward with excitement, Chet grinned at his amused audience and perched the dummy on the edge of his knee.

Suddenly he jerked Hugoâs limbs a bit too hard. The dummy slid off his knee and crashed to the floor, face down, amid a sound of shattering glass!

Chet went white. âHugo!â he wailed mournfully. âIâve ruined you!â

Frank and Joe rushed forward to assay the damage. âDonât worry,â Joe consoled his friend. âItâs not too bad.â

âThose big, beautiful eyesâtheyâre broken!â Chet groaned, kneeling on the floor.

âYou can probably get new ones,â Frank assured him. Cautiously he started picking up the glassy slivers and fragments. âGosh,â he remarked, âthose eyes were even bigger than IâOh, oh!â

âWhatâs the matter?â asked Joe as Frank broke off with a gasp of amazement.

âThis stuff isnât glassâat least not all of it.â

âThen what is it?â asked Chet.

Frankâs voice quivered with excitement. âThis may sound crazy, but I think some of these pieces are uncut diamonds!â

âWhat!â Everyone in the room jumped up in astonishment and clustered around Frank.

âD-did you say diamonds?â Chet stuttered.

âThatâs what they look like.â Frank held up some of the stones, which resembled tiny, greasy pebbles.

âAre you sure?â Iola asked. âThey donât sparkle much!â

âRough stones look this way before theyâre cut,â Frank explained. âAt least thatâs what Iâve read. What do you think, Joe?â

His brother nodded. âI think youâre right. And that explains the burglaries. No wonder those men were so eager to grab Hugo!â

Picking up the dummy in one hand, Joe borrowed a bobby pin from Iola and began probing into the hollow eye shells. Several more uncut diamonds came tumbling out.

âI canât believe it!â Chet exclaimed. âAny more of them?â

âNo, but hereâs something else.â

Joe extracted a tiny, rolled-up wad of paper. When spread open, it revealed a strange printed notation:

Skeleton Rock 176

âHow odd!â exclaimed Mrs. Morton, and Iola added, âItâs positively spooky!â

Her father frowned uneasily. âFrank, you and Joe have had experience with this sort of thing. What do you think we should do?â

âIf you donât mind, Mr. Morton, Iâd like to take both the dummy and the diamonds home with us, so we can investigate them further.â

âAll right, you do that!â From the tone of his voice, Chetâs father sounded relieved to have the disturbing objects removed from his house before the thieves might pay a return visit.

Before leaving, Frank telephoned his fatherâs top investigator, Sam Radley, and asked him to meet the brothers at the Hardy home.

âIâll start at once,â the detective promised.

Soon after the boys reached their house, they heard Samâs car pull into the driveway. Joe hurried to let him in.

âWhatâs up, boys?â asked the muscular, sandy-haired detective as soon as he was seated in the living room.

Frank briefed him quickly, then showed Sam the dummy and the curious-looking stones. The detective picked up one of the gems and held it to the light. Then he took a jewelerâs loupe from his pocket and scrutinized the stone carefully.

âD-did you say diamonds?â Chet stuttered

âItâs an uncut diamond, all right,â Sam announced. He examined the others. âSeveral carats altogether; the lot of them should be worth a good sum of money.â He advised the boys to notify Mr. Hardy about their find as soon as possible.

Joe warmed up the short-wave radio transmitter and tuned to the Hardysâ special frequency for secret communications. He spoke into the mike:

âBayport calling Fenton H. in Puerto Rico! Come in, please!â

Again and again Joe repeated the call. But transmitting conditions were poor and he failed to make contact.

âNever mind,â said Frank. âWeâll try again tomorrow.â

âWhich reminds me,â Sam Radley put in. âI have news for you two.â

He reported that Jack Wayne had spotted a car, tent, and trailer which might belong to Hugo and Abdul. He had made the discovery while flying over a wooded area fifty miles away.

âHe couldnât get any answer to a phone call here, so he contacted me,â Sam explained. âTold me he was planning to take you up for a look-see at five tomorrow morning. He didnât think the trailer would pull out before that.â

The boys were jubilant at the news, and called Jack to say they would be on hand promptly for the take-off.

Early the next morning Frank and Joe hopped out of bed the instant their alarm clock rang. After breakfast they drove to the airport.

Jack Wayne had his own ship, Skyhappy Sal, fueled and ready on the runway. He was talking to Tony Prito, a good friend of the Hardy boys. During the summer the handsome, dark-eyed, olive-skinned boy drove a truck for his fatherâs construction firm.

âHi, fellows!â Tony greeted them. âDad gave me the morning off. I decided to get some exercise and hike out here to see your dadâs new plane. Boy, itâs a real beauty! Say, you Hardys are on the job early. Another case?â

Frank explained briefly what their mission was, and Jack asked, âWant to come up with us? I have room for another passenger and weâll be back soon.â

Tony enthusiastically accepted, and a few minutes later they took off. As the plane soared high above Bayport, Jack turned to Joe.

âHere, take over,â the pilot said. âMight as well get a lesson out of this while youâre in the air.â

Joe proved to be a good pilot and navigated the craft on a straight course toward the spot where Jack had sighted Hugoâs trailer.

âWeâre getting close,â Jack said as a wooded area came into view. âDrop down a little, Joe.â

Soon Frank cried out. âThere they are! Thatâs Hugoâs outfit all right.â

Joe swooped lower to get a better look at the fortunetellerâs camp. The drone of the planeâs engine must have aroused the occupants, for a man came rushing out of the trailer.

âAbdul!â Frank exclaimed.

Shaking his fist, the giant rushed back into the trailer and emerged with a high-powered rifle.

âHeâs going to shoot at us!â Tony cried out.

âGun it!â Jack ordered.

Joe began to climb for altitude. Seconds later there was a flash from the rifle muzzle. Almost at the same instant, sheets of flame billowed from under the engine cowling and smoke began to seep into the cabin.

âHe hit a gas line!â Jack shouted. âThe engineâs on fire!â

CHAPTER VI

Musical Password

INSTINCTIVELY Joe pulled the control wheel back and lowered the wing into a steep left bank. He jammed the right rudder pedal to its full limit. The plane descended rapidly and skidded sideways in a âslip.â

âGood work!â Jack said to Joe. âThe planeâs side motion will keep the flames away from the cabin!â

Joe reached down between the seats and turned the fuel selector valve to the âoffâ position, thus cutting off the flow of fuel from the tanks to the engine.

âKeep her slipping toward that clearing just to your left!â Jack ordered. âWe should make it in there easy!â Joe nodded.

With the fuel valve turned off, the engine used the remaining gas in the lines. It then sputtered and quit.

Joe and his companions watched anxiously as the plane slipped toward the clearing. When just a few feet above it, the young pilot kicked the rudder pedals into neutral and leveled the wings. There was a jolt as he pulled the wheel back hard and the plane touched down on the grassy clearing. Joe then pressed hard on the wheel brakes. The craft rolled ahead for several yards and came to a halt with a lurch.

âHandled like a veteran!â Jack gave Joe a broad grin.

At that moment Frank caught sight of Abdul and Hugo sprinting toward their car. âThose men are getting away!â he yelled.

The Hardys and the others hopped out of the plane and dashed after them. But the men had too big a lead. They jumped into their car while the pursuers were still fifty yards away. The car roared down the woods road and disappeared.

Though disappointed, Frank pointed out that at least the suspects had had to abandon their tent and trailer. âMaybe they left some clues.â

A quick search revealed little of interest. Besides some costumes, the crystal ball, and fortune-telling paraphernalia, Hugo and Abdulâs gear consisted of food, street clothing, and cooking utensils. The searchers turned their attention to smaller articles.

âWhatâs this?â Tony asked, unrolling a flag which he had found tucked away on a shelf of the trailer. On the left was a white circle on a red triangular field, and five green and white stripes running horizontally.

âA foreign flag!â Frank exclaimed.

âWhat about this?â Jack asked, pointing to a black cloth skeleton on the lower right-hand corner.

âSome kind of a Jolly Roger,â Joe suggested.

âBut why would petty thieves use a pirate flag?â Tony queried.

âPerhaps Hugo and Abdul belong to some rebel group,â Frank mused.

Tony remarked, âMaybe theyâre just a couple of petty fakers.â

Frank shook his head thoughtfully. âIn that case, why all the rough stuff when we first saw them, and the rifleshot just now? If you ask me, theyâre mixed up in something bigâand this skeleton flag may be a clue.â

The group headed back to Skyhappy Sal. Jack Wayne removed part of the cowling and made a quick examination of the damage caused by Abdulâs bullet. The shot had almost severed the slender copper tubing of the fuel line.

âWhatâs the verdict?â Frank inquired.

Jack shrugged, frowning. âI can make a temporary repair with a plastic lineâgood enough to get us in the air, anyhow. But I doubt that it would hold as far as Bayport.â

âHow about the Eastern City airport?â Tony suggested. âWe could install a new fuel line there.â

Jack nodded. âThatâs what weâll have to do.â

He made the repair quickly, then everyone piled in. With Joe at the controls, the plane headed toward Eastern City. Located less than twenty miles away, this thriving city was a terminus for half a dozen airlines. Jack explained their plight to the tower and received permission to land. A mechanic guided him as he taxied the plane to a repair hangar.

âHow long do you figure itâll take to put in the new line?â Joe asked as they climbed out.

âOh, not too long, once I get the right size tubing,â the pilot replied. âFifteen, twenty minutesâif Tony will help me.â

âSure, be glad to!â Tony, an expert with tools, loved to tinker over an engine.

âIn that case,â said Frank, âJoe and I will find a phone booth and call the police.â

They strode quickly to the terminal building. As they skirted the magazine stand on their way to the telephone booths, they noticed a man seated alone in a corner. Olive-skinned, with long, shiny black hair, he looked to be a Latin American. The man slouched on the bench, chin in hand, listening to music which apparently was issuing from a small portable radio on his lap.

Joe grinned at the catchy tune. âBoy, I go for that stuff,â he said.

âWhat stuff?â Frank asked.

âHot calypso!â Joe said.

His reply seemed to electrify the man on the bench. Jumping to his feet, he darted toward the boy and hissed in his ear, âWhere are your gloves, you fool? You might leave fingerprints.â

Joe blinked and stared. The manâs next move was even more astounding. He pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket and stuffed them into Joeâs hand!

The boy was taken completely by surprise, but instinct warned him not to betray his reaction. The stranger watched him closely.

Joe swallowed hard and looked at the gloves. They were made of gray fabric with a small label sewn to the hem of one, reading Made in Tropicale. Acting on a hunch, Joe pulled them on.

This seemed to please the stranger, who gave a tight smile. âAh, bueno!â He produced a small key and slipped it into Joeâs gloved hand, adding, âYou have been instructed!â

Without another word the man turned, switched off the music, and strode away. For the first time, Frank and Joe noticed that what they had thought was a portable radio was actually a small portable record-player.

âLetâs follow him!â Joe said.

âBetter not,â Frank advised. âI think weâve stumbled onto something big. Weâve done the right thing so far. Letâs not spoil it.â

âYouâre right. âHot calypsoâ must be a password. Letâs look at this key.â

Joe held it up for examination. The key was inscribed with the number 176.

Frank repeated the number excitedly. âThat wadded note we found in the dummyâs eye!â he exclaimed. âIt said âSkeleton Rock 176â !â

âBut what does it stand for?â Joe asked.

Frank thought a moment. âI canât answer that, but Iâll bet this key opens one of those public lockers over there.â

The boys hurried to the south wall of the air terminal, honeycombed with metal lockers.

âHere it is,â said Frank.

Joe glanced around cautiously. The Latin American was not in sight and no one else seemed to be looking at the boys. Joe inserted the key in the lock. It fitted!

He turned the key and the door swung open. The locker contained a black-leather zippered case.

Joe reached in and pulled out the case. The next instant, both boys jumped in alarm as a voice behind them barked:

âYouâre under arrest!â

CHAPTER VII

Twin Clues

As THE Hardys whirled around from the airport lockers, they saw a dark-haired, hard-jawed man of medium build eyeing them coldly.

He flipped open his coat and flashed a detectiveâs badge. âNow, then, who are you and whatâs your game?â

âWeâre Frank and Joe Hardy,â Frank said coolly. âOur father is Fenton Hardy, the investigator. While weâre at it, maybe you wouldnât mind telling us who you are?â

âShanley, airport detective!â the man replied crisply. Opening his wallet, he showed them his detectiveâs license. âYou two still havenât told me what youâre up to,â he prodded.

âWeâre not âup toâ anything,â Joe said tersely.

Shanley was annoyed. âLetâs have a look at that leather case,â he demanded.

But Frank interposed. âIf you want to see the contents, letâs go to police headquarters.â

âOkay,â the detective grumbled. âCome on. Weâll go in my car.â

The Hardys agreed and the trio headed out through the glass doors of the terminal building, with Joe clutching the brief case.

âCarâs over there at the far end of the lot.â Shanley pointed.

As they started across the parking area, Joe caught his brotherâs eye. He made a slight gesture toward the zippered case. Frank nodded.

Turning to Shanley, Frank started chattering casually. âDo you have an office here in Eastern City?â he inquired.

While Frank distracted the detectiveâs attention, Joe gave the zipper a quick jerk. Inside, he caught a glimpse of several thin, flat boxes sealed in cellophane. They bore a drug manufacturerâs label with the name Variotrycin.

Joe pulled the zipper shut before Shanley noticed anything. The young detectiveâs mind was racing.

âVariotrycinâs that new wonder drug I read about in the papers,â Joe thought. âBut what has a new wonder drug to do with dummies and diamondsâor Skeleton Rock 176?â

Joe, deeply engrossed in trying to find an answer to the puzzle, was taken off guard by three men who suddenly darted out from between two cars parked nearby.

âWeâll take that case!â snarled the leader, a burly, baldheaded man in a polo shirt.

âOh, no, you wonât!â Joe ducked, and threw up an arm to protect himself.

Frank leaped to his assistance, fists flying, as the hoodlums tried to grab the case.

To their astonishment, Shanley had disappeared. But there was no time to speculate about what had happened to him as Frank drove home a punch that split the lip of his adversary, while Joe gave another of the men a blow that sent him reeling.

In doing so, Joe dropped the case he had held under his left arm. As the young detective stooped to pick it up, he was amazed to have it snatched from the ground by none other than Shanley! The detective had crept up from behind.

âThanks!â Shanley sneered, and sprinted for his car.

The Hardys were powerless to stop him. With the odds three against two, their attackers were pressing the boys harder than before.

Furiously, Frank and Joe swung their fists with telling effect. One of their opponents howled with pain as Joe caught him on the nose. A second later the baldheaded leader winced and groaned under the walloping impact of Frankâs fist under his chin.

Even so, the fight began to go against the boys. Step by step, they were being driven back and hemmed in against the bumper of a parked car.

Then, suddenly, the tide of battle turned. The burly baldheaded man was jerked around and struck on the jaw by a blow that rocked him on his heels.

âTony!â Joe cheered. Heartened by the unexpected help, the Hardys put forth a fresh surge of fighting fury.

Their assailants lost heart rapidly. âThese guys are too tough Iâm gettinâ outta here!â gasped one of the ruffians. Pulling loose from the fray, he turned and ran, with Tony after him.

The baldheaded ringleader followed, with Frank at his heels. As the third hoodlum tried to join in the getaway, Joe dropped him with a flying tackle.

But the leader and the other ruffian kicked off their pursuers and leaped into a car that was waiting for them on the road beyond the parking area. At the wheel was Shanley!

Discouraged by this latest development, Frank and Tony went back to Joe, who was holding their prisoner. The fellow was bony and pinched-faced, and wore a cheap-looking pinstriped suit.

âWeâre taking you to police headquarters,â Joe told him.

The sullen man shifted uneasily, but kept quiet as the group headed for the taxi stand.

âBy the way, fellows,â said Tony, âwould you mind telling me what this is all about?â

Frank gave him a quick account of the phony detective and the unexpected attack. âThanks for coming to our rescue. You really saved the day!â

âDitto!â put in Joe. âIf it hadnât been for you, we wouldnât have this prisoner. By the way, Tony, youâd better go tell Jack Wayne what happened. Weâll be back soon.â

âOkay,â Tony agreed. âBut donât let buster boy here pull any more fast ones!â

As he headed back to the hangar, Frank and Joe hustled their prisoner into one of the waiting taxis.

âPolice headquarters,â Frank directed the driver.

A few minutes later the taxi pulled up in front of the brick building.

The sergeant in charge led the Hardys and their prisoner into the office of Inspector Moon, a friend of Fenton Hardy. He greeted the boys warmly, then said to a detective, âTake this man into the interrogation room and get the facts.â Inspector Moon turned back to Frank and Joe. âNow give me the whole story.â

The boys related everything that had happened at the airport terminal, including the way Shanley had led them into an ambush and then stolen the leather case.

âWhat did Shanley look like?â the officer asked. As Frank gave a description of the man, the inspector frowned and shook his head. âThat wasnât Shanley.â

âHe was impersonating him, you mean?â Frank asked. âWe saw his detectiveâs license.â

âSure, they were the real Shanleyâs all right. His house was broken into last night and all his credentials stolen,â the inspector explained.

Frank and Joe asked to read the report of the robbery, but found no clues of interest. In answer to Inspector Moonâs questions, they explained that they were helping their father on a case and described their brush with Hugo and Abdul at the wooded site.

âIâll put out a call for them right away,â Inspector Moon said. He picked up his phone and ordered that an alarm be sent to all radio cars.

âOne thing I donât understand is why that Latin American fellow at the airport slipped me the gloves and key,â said Joe, after the officer hung up. âCouldnât he tell just by looking at me that I wasnât the right guy?â

âMaybe you do look like the right guy,â Inspector Moon pointed out.

âWow! I never thought of that!â

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Frank suddenly grinned. âGood night! My brother looking like some underworld character!â Then he sobered. âIf this is some kind of a racketâlike a theft ring for passing stolen goodsâwe now have a good description of one of the members.â

âRight,â the inspector agreed. âIâll pass the word around for the men to be on the lookout for a fellow answering Joeâs description.â

âBut of the criminal type, please,â Joe pleaded.

Just then the door of the interrogation room opened, and the plainclothesman came out with the prisoner.

âLearn anything?â Inspector Moon asked the detective.

âNo,â he replied. âHe wonât even tell us his name.â

âAny identification?â the inspector queried.

âNot even a driverâs license. Only thing that might help is this tattoo.â The detective pulled up the prisonerâs sleeve to show a pineapple tattoo on his left forearm.

âHmm. Itâs not much to go on,â the inspector said, âbut check the files. Anything else?â

âYes, sir. This prisoner was carrying these in his pocket, together with a ticket to Mexico.â

With a baffled look, the detective held up a pair of dollâs glass eyes! Instantly the Hardys realized they were just like the dummyâs eyes which had contained uncut diamonds!

CHAPTER VIII

Spanish Code

FRANK and Joe were excited. Here was a definite clue that tied the Eastern City holdup men to the Hugo dummy racket!

âIâd like to speak to you privately,â Frank said to the police inspector. âAnd bring the dollâs eyes along, please.â

When they were alone in a rear office, Frank declared, âThese dollâs eyes prove the man youâre holding and his gang are mixed up in the case Dadâs working on!â

âAnd what about the boxes of Variotrycin in the brief case?â Joe asked.

Inspector Moon looked thoughtfully at both boys and said that he would follow through on this angle in a few minutes, then he held up the dollâs eyes to the light.

âNo diamonds here,â he announced. âThese eyes are empty. But we still have plenty to hold Mr. Pineapple on. Maybe heâll change his mind later about talking.â

Inspector Moon asked the boys to wait while he tried to find out about the Variotrycin. He telephoned first to Watkins Pharmacy. The boys could hear both sides of the conversation.

âThat stuffâs pretty new,â Mr. Watkins told the inspector, âand very expensive. Far as I know, the Lexo Drug people that make it wonât be supplying it in quantity until they can lower the price.â

âWhere is Lexo Drug?â

Mr. Watkins said the company had a plant in Hartsburg. âIf you have a prescription, I could put in a special orderââ

âNo, thanks,â the inspector interrupted.

Hartsburg was less than a hundred miles from Bayport. Inspector Moon then placed a long-distance call to the company.

âIâd like to speak to the plant manager,â he told the switchboard girl.

A manâs gruff voice came on the line. âMcCardle speaking.â

Inspector Moon introduced himself and said, âIâm calling to find out if any shipments of Variotrycin have been stolen recently.â

The plant manager asked with a sharp note of interest, âWho did you say you were?â

âInspector Moon of the Eastern City Police Department.â

Mr. McCardle cleared his throat, then said that a special messenger carrying a consignment of their new product had been attacked and robbed late the day before.

âWhere?â

âNot far from here.â

âHave you contacted your local police?â Inspector Moon asked.

âNo. We just heard about the robbery. But Iâll do so right away,â McCardle replied.

He asked why the inspector had called him, and was told about the boxes in the brief case. âWell, we hope that you find the thief!â the manager said, then said good-by.

Inspector Moon turned to the Hardys. âHow about you fellows helping on this?â

âWe will!â the young sleuths promised.

Before leaving headquarters, Frank asked if he and his brother might borrow the doll eyes for further examination. Inspector Moon readily agreed.

The boys taxied back to the airport. Before the group took off for Bayport, Tony telephoned his father to tell what had happened. As he returned to the others, he said, âLucky break! Dad says I can have the rest of the day off!â

On the flight back, the Hardys brought Jack and Tony up to date on the developments in the mystery.

âThings certainly worked fast,â Jack remarked.

âYes, and thanks a lot for your help,â Joe said as they landed at Bayport. Frank echoed his words.

The pilot grinned. âAny time, fellows.â

As the boys drove off, Joe suggested that they stop at Mr. Hanadeâs puppet-repair shop to see if he could tell them anything about the glass eyes, and to return his instruction sheet, which they had copied.

A few minutes later the trio pulled up outside Mr. Hanadeâs shop. The pleasant Japanese proprietor greeted the Hardys and Tony politely. âYou learn something from instruction sheet for Hugo dummy?â he asked as Joe thanked him for lending it to them.

âNot yet, but we have something to show you,â Joe replied. He took out the glass eyes. âEver seen any like these before?â

Hanade studied them curiously. âVery old,â he murmured. âNowadays, manufacturers do not make dollsâ eyes like this. Too expensive to make out of colored glass. Besides, glass breaks too easily.â

He explained that eyes for modern dolls are normally made of plastic with a metal rod running through them. The rod is usually hinged, with a small counterweight to make the eyes open and close.

Frank murmured to Joe, âWith a rod running through them, there wouldnât be much room inside for hiding anything.â

Joe nodded and said aloud, âIf theyâre plastic, theyâre probably solid instead of hollow.â

âThat is correct,â said Mr. Hanade.

âDo your Hugo dummies have solid plastic eyes?â Frank queried.

âYes. Modern merchandise, of course.â

âAny idea where these glass eyes might have come from?â Joe went on.

âWould be hard to say. Most likely from some old-fashioned American dolls or puppets.â

âOne more question,â said Frank. âWhere are the Hugo dummies made?â

âMexico,â said Mr. Hanade. At once the boys thought of the prisoner who had a ticket to Mexico. The man went on, âThe dummies are fashioned of papier-mÃ¢chÃ©.â

The boys thanked him for his help and left. As they drove home, the group exchanged views on the mystery.

âI still canât figure out why those guys in Eastern City were so anxious to get their hands on that Variotrycin,â Joe remarked. âMaybe thereâs a connection between the drugs and the diamonds.â

âAnd how about that pirate flag in Abdulâs trailer?â Tony reminded them. âWhere does that come in?â

Frank shrugged. âYouâve got me, pal!â

When they reached the Hardy home, Chet Morton was rocking himself in the glider on the front porch.

âHey, watch it, boy! You want that thing to collapse?â Joe called out laughingly.

âWhereâve you fellows been?â Chet complained. âIâve been waiting here so long Iâll bet Iâve missed my lunch.â

Frank sniffed the appetizing aroma of freshly baked cake that floated out through the open windows. âBetter come in and eat with us, Chet.â

The stout teen-ager needed no urging. Soon all four boys were seated around the dining-room table, with Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude, spooning up hearty servings of delicious onion soup and enjoying crusty French bread.

âHow did things go, boys?â Mrs. Hardy asked.

After hearing all about the exciting adventures, both women gasped and Aunt Gertrude said, âI warned you! If youâd only pay attention to me, you wouldnât risk your lives that way.â

Mrs. Hardy looked troubled. âPlease be careful,â she cautioned.

After luncheon the four boys trooped upstairs to Frank and Joeâs room. Once again the young sleuths took out the two instruction sheets for the Hugo dummies and began to compare them.

âIâll read off the extra words included on Chetâs sheet that are different, Frank, and you write them down,â Joe suggested.

âOkay, shoot!â

Frank wrote the words in a column with the translation opposite each one:

âWhat is itâa code?â asked Tony.

âPerhaps,â said Frank. After a couple of minutes of trying various combinations, he added, âI canât make any sense out of them.â

âLetâs try the first letters of each Spanish word reading down,â suggested Joe. âC,a,b,e,z,o, n,a,nââ

âThe first word, Cuerpo,â said Tony, âand the last word, NÃºmero, both have capital letters. Maybe that means the N should be separated from the rest.â

Frank wrote it down this way:

CABEZONA N

âI believe youâre right,â he commented, and consulted a Spanish dictionary. He read aloud:

ââCabezon, na, adj. big-headed; stubborn; n. collar of a shirt; opening in a garment for the passage of the head; noseband (for horses).â â

âDoesnât make sense to me,â said Frank, âunless the code refers to the Hugo dummyâs big head.â

âThatâs it!â Joe exclaimed. âThe instructions might point out that the diamonds were secreted in the dummyâs head! And the N could stand for north, which is the position the dummyâs eyes are located on its face.â

Excited, the boys warmed up their short-wave radio and beamed out a call over the Hardysâ special frequency. After several minutes Mr. Hardy answered.

âFenton to Bayport. Can you read me?â

âSure can, Dad!â Joe replied into the mike. âWe have some important news for you!â

âBetter not tell it now,â Mr. Hardy warned hastily. âSomeone may be listening!â

âThen tell us where to reach you and weâll send it in code by airmail,â Joe told his father.

âI have a better idea, son. Suppose you and Frank fly down here to Puerto Rico and join me. I can use your help. Call Jack Wayne right away and make the arrangements.â

Chet and Tony had listened to the invitation with envy. âAsk your dad if he can use us,â said Chet. âWe could be a big help!â

âIt sure would be a lot of fun,â Joe agreed.

âItâs okay. Bring your pals along.â Mr. Hardy chuckled, having heard the whole conversation.

At once Chet and Tony dashed to the hall phone to call their parents. First Chet received permission to take a vacation from his summer work on the farm, then Tonyâs father agreed to give him time off.

The boys were jubilantly talking over their plans when the telephone rang sharply. It was Inspector Moon calling from Eastern City.

âI have some bad news,â he told Joe, who answered. âThat prisoner you and your brother captured this morning has just escaped by overpowering a guard.â

âEscaped!â Joe echoed.

âI thought Iâd better warn you two,â the officer said.

âThanks, Inspector. Weâll be on our guard.â

Frank was gravely alarmed when he learned of the escape. âNow weâre in real trouble,â he pointed out. âThat man will pass along word to the gang that we have valuable information and they may try to harm us!â

âGood night!â Joe exclaimed. âIf they come here while weâre gone, Mother and Aunt Gertrude will be in danger!â

âWeâd better call Sam Radley and ask him to guard the house,â Frank decided.

Mr. Hardyâs operative readily agreed not only to stand guard himself at night, but to provide around-the-clock protection for the Hardy home. A call to Jack Wayne brought the promise that Mr. Hardyâs new six-seater cabin plane would be fueled and ready for take-off at six the next morning.

âIâll be there at five to have everything in order,â the pilot promised.

At dawn the brothers bounced out of bed, showered, dressed hastily, and had a quick breakfast.

âNow take your time and chew your food properly,â Aunt Gertrude told them tartly. âI doubt that the island of Puerto Rico will sink out of sight if you donât get there in the next few hours!â

After good-bys and warnings to be careful, the boys flung their suitcases into the convertible and drove off. They picked up Chet and Tony, then set off for the airport.

It was a few minutes before six, and shreds of morning mist still clung to the ground when they arrived at the airport. Jack Wayne was nowhere in sight. A line-boy was refueling the blue-and-white Hardy plane at the gas pit. The young detectives asked him if he had seen Jack Wayne.

âI did, just a little while ago,â the line-boy answered. âThe last time I saw him he was headed for Hangar B. He asked me if Iâd help him tow your fatherâs plane out and refuel it. When I went over to the hangar a few minutes later, Jack was nowhere around. So I just went ahead and towed the plane out on my own.â

The boys waited anxiously, but twenty minutes later, their pilot still had not arrived.

Frankâs face clouded with worry. âIâm afraid that something has happened to Jack. Heâd never be this late without letting me know.â

âYes,â said Joe. âIt looks as if our enemies may have already started their newest attack.â

CHAPTER IX

The Ticking Suitcase

âMAYBE Jack went to the shop to get something,â Tony said.

In pairs the boys began their hunt. When they met again a short time later, their faces registered failure.

âIâll call the motel where Jack lives,â Frank decided. âHe might have gone to his room to get something.â

Hopefully the four boys hurried to the waiting room. Frank made the call.

âIs he there?â Joe asked anxiously when his brother emerged from the booth.

Frank shook his head. âThe manager said Jack left a couple of hours ago.â

For a moment the boys were silent, wondering what their next move should be. Suddenly Joe snapped his fingers. âWe havenât checked Jackâs plane. Letâs go look!â

With quick strides the boys headed for Hangar B, where their father and Jack kept their planes. Jackâs sleek, silver-winged craft stood in one corner of the big corrugated-iron building.

Frank reached the plane first, climbed up, and jerked open the cabin door. He stopped short and gasped. Slumped on the floor was the huddled form of Jack Wayne!

âHeâs here, unconscious!â Frank reported.

âGood night!â cried Joe.

Gently the boys lifted the pilot out of the plane and laid him on a pile of tarpaulins.

âIs he badly hurt?â Chet asked.

âI think not,â Frank replied, taking Jackâs pulse, which was even. âJust knocked out. In fact, I believe I smell chloroform in here.â

Jack moaned and stirred. âThank goodness itâs nothing worse,â said Joe.

A few minutes later, though still woozy, Jack was able to sit up. âW-whatâ? W-whereâ?â he murmured, shaking his head from side to side.

âTake it easy,â Frank advised.

âOh, hello, fellows,â Jack said shakily.

Chet Morton brought him a drink of water. While the pilot was sipping it, Frank and Joe went off to question the man in charge of the airport at the time, Burt Hildreth.

âDid you notice strangers prowling around early this morning?â

âDonât recall seeing any,â said Hildreth, a tall man with a weather-beaten face. âIn fact, no oneâs been out to the field this morningâexcept when this young man showed up at five oâclock.â He pointed to Joe.

âMe?â

âSure. Donât tell me youâve forgotten our conversation.â

Frank and Joe looked at each other, startled.

The early-morning visitor to the airfield must have been the one who resembled Joeâthe contact man for the theft ring!

Hildreth was puzzled. âWhat goes on here?â he asked. âYou fellows mixed up in a mystery?â

âYes,â said Frank. âJoe and I didnât arrive until a few minutes ago.â He explained that the police were looking for a suspect who resembled Joe. He might even be made up to look like him.

âWell, Iâll be doggoned!â Hildreth exclaimed. âThat fellow sure is your double! He asked if Wayne had filed the take-off time for your flight. I said, âNo, not yet, but he told me last night youâd be leaving around six.â Then he walked off toward the hangar.â

Joeâs eyes widened as a frightening thought struck him. âI have a hunch weâd better check our plane and check it good!â

The boys hurried back to the hangar, where they found Jack Wayne fully recovered. He told them he had been about to step into the Hardy plane when someone had sneaked up behind him and put a rag with chloroform under his nose.

âThatâs the last I remember. But why would anyone want to knock me out?â

âSo he could sabotage our plane before take-off!â Frank replied grimly, and related Hildrethâs story.

âGood night!â exclaimed Jack. âIf thatâs the deal, weâd better go over the ship with a fine-toothed comb, or we may wind up in the drink!â

Worried, the group towed the big blue-and-white craft out onto the hangar apron. Under Jackâs supervision, they began a thorough check.

Engine, landing gear, control cables, elevators, ailerons, trim tabsâeverything seemed to be in order. Even the radio and flight instruments showed no signs of tampering.

Frank relaxed a bit. âI guess my hunch was wrong. Anyhow, Iâm glad we made sure.â

âBut we still donât know why Jack was attacked,â Joe pointed out.

While the pilot went off to file his flight plan, the others refreshed themselves with some hot cocoa at the airport lunch counter. Later, as Jack warmed up the engine for take-off, the boys lugged their baggage out to the ship.

Frank squatted just inside the cargo compartment in the rear of the plane and checked off each item as the others passed them in to him.

âTwo bags for Joe and me,â he sang out. âThree bags for Chet. One suitcase for Tony, and a bag and two suitcases for Jack already stowed aboard!â

Jack turned around. âHey, did you say three for me? I brought only two.â

âIâll bet Chet slipped in an extra one full of chow!â Tony joked.

âEither that, or heâs trying to sneak his dummy aboard as a stowaway.â Joe chuckled.

Suddenly Frank turned pale. âSay, what if that fellow who chloroformed Jack planted the extra bag! It could meanââ

The pilot had already jumped up from his seat and hurried aft. âThese are my two suitcases,â he said, pointing them out.

Frank grabbed the extra bag from the cargo space and held it to his ear.

âItâs ticking!â he cried. âA time bomb!â

There was an instant of near panic as Jack and the boys stood frozen with fear. Should they leap from the plane and leave it to blow up when the bomb went off? Or should they take a chance and try to carry the bag to a safe distance?

Frank glanced at his watch. It was 6:33. âThe person who planted the bomb probably figured we wouldnât be airborne just yet, so the bomb must be set to explode a few minutes from now. Out of my way, boys!â he cried.

Before anyone could stop him, Frank jumped from the plane, bag in hand, and sprinted down the runway. Near the edge of the field, he paused and hurled the bag toward a vacant, brush-covered lot beyond.

He was halfway back to the plane when the whole airport rocked under a sudden explosion. Frank was hurled to the ground by the tremendous blast. Joe and the others ran to help him as dirt, brush, and debris rained down on all sides of the blast area.

âFrank! Are you all right?â Joe cried, reaching his brother and kneeling down beside him.

âSure. Just a little shaken up.â

âAnd m-me too!â said Chet. âMan alive, I thought you were a goner!â The stout boyâs face was ash white and the rest of the group looked equally shocked.

By this time, the airport was in an uproar and it was some time before everyone was reassured that the bomb planter had directed his venom only toward the Hardys.

Meanwhile, Frank made a full report over the phone to Chief Collig. Finally a signal for departure was given and the graceful blue-and-white plane took off on its flight to Puerto Rico.

Everyone relaxed as the plane headed out over the Atlantic. The boys sat quietly and thought about the case. What sort of a racket were they up against? Obviously its members would stop at nothing to gain their objectives. The young sleuths had already had enough close scrapes to be sure of that!

Frank and Joe each took turns at the controls as Jack instructed them in long-range flying and navigation. It was nearing lunchtime when a voice came crackling over the planeâs radio navigation frequency.

âSky Sleuth One-One-Eight-Howe-Baker! This is Tancho radio! Do vou read?â

Frank clicked the planeâs transmitter to the proper frequency. He then picked up the microphone and spoke into it. âTancho radio! This is Sky Sleuth One-One-Eight-Howe-Baker! Read you loud and clear! Go ahead!â

âEight-Howe-Baker! This is Tancho radio! Bayport tower has requested us to convey a message to you from Mrs. Hardy! You are requested to land at Centro in Tropicale! Repeatâland at Centro in Tropicale! Over!â

The boys were puzzled. Why land at the new Caribbean island democracy? Frank decided to check.

âTancho radio! This is Eight-Howe-Baker! Would you please contact Bayport tower and have them call Mrs. Hardy? We would like to verify that message!â

âStand by!â

Several minutes passed before the communicatorâs voice again crackled from the loudspeaker.

âEight-Howe-Baker! This is Tancho radio! Bayport tower reports they called your home! No answer! Can we be of further assistance? Over!â

âThis is Eight-Howe-Baker! Negative! We are proceeding to Centro. Please change our flight plan accordingly! Over and out!â

Shifting course to the right, Jack headed south-west toward Tropicale. Finally the lush green shores of the island came into view. The pilot consulted a map as they flew inland and soon they sighted the bustling city of Centro.

Arrowing in toward the airfield on the outskirts of town, Jack cleared with the tower and made a smooth landing. Almost before the plane rolled to a stop, a man in a white suit came running out to meet them. He was tall and dark with a long, drooping mustache.

As the boys climbed out of the plane, the stranger shoved a note into Frankâs hand, then dashed off the field. Puzzled, Frank unfolded the paper and read the typewritten message. It said:

Danger. Do not come.
Dad

CHAPTER X

Cross Fire

CHET groaned in dismay at Mr. Hardyâs message. To have come all this way and not go on to Puerto Rico.

Jack had a different idea. âMaybe itâs a trick,â he suggested.

âYes, and the radio message too,â Frank agreed.

âThen letâs find that guy and make him talk!â Joe urged.

âOkay. Anybody see where he went?â Frank asked.

He and the others stared around the field. With several airliners loading and discharging passengers, the place throbbed with activity. Tourists swarmed about the terminal building.

âThere he is!â cried Tony, pointing to a tall figure in a white suit talking earnestly to a group of men. They were standing near the roadway that bordered the field.

Joe took off at a fast sprint. All the others but Jack raced after him. As the boys ran, they caught a stir of movement in other parts of the field. Several uniformed men were pushing through the throng of people.

Suddenly a shot rang out, then another! The white-suited man and his companions jerked around, their hands flying toward their hip pockets.

âLa policia!â one of them shouted.

Whipping out revolvers and automatics, they began shooting back. In an instant the Hardys and their friends found themselves caught in a fusillade of cross fire as bullets whined back and forth through the air.

âWow!â Tony exclaimed as one whistled close to his ear.

âWeâve walked into a war!â Chet wailed.

Following Joe and Frankâs example, the others fanned out, but kept on runningâin an effort to escape the deadly exchange and catch up to the deliverer of the note.

One of the gunmen spotted the Americans. He let out a sharp cry in Spanish, which seemed to throw his companions into a panic. The men ran toward two parked cars.

Bringing up the rear was the mustached man in the white suit who had delivered the note. Joe was now within a couple of yards of him. With a lunge the boy hurled himself in a fierce flying tackle. The white-suited man went down with a thud.

The other gunmen, already in the parked cars, made no effort to rescue their comrade. They sped off with a roar of exhaust!

By this time, the police had reached the scene in jeeps to give chase. But a lieutenant and several others stayed behind to take over the prisoner from the Americans.

âCaramba, seÃ±ores!â the lieutenant exclaimed to Frank and Joe. âYou are brave young men to capture, unarmed, such a gunman. In fact, you are all brave seÃ±ores and I offer you my thanks!â

âGlad to help, but who are these men?â Frank asked.

âRebels plotting against the Tropicale Government,â said the lieutenant. âBut if you will be so kind, you will tell me why you were mixed up in this.â

Frank told his story briefly and the officer urged the boys to accompany him to police headquarters and repeat what had happened.

When they arrived at headquarters, he introduced them to Lieutenant Garcia and once more the boys told their story. Before the officer could take action, five other members of the rebel group were brought in, two of them injured. One of the getaway cars had smashed into a lamppost while making a turn. All the occupants had been captured.

âA bad business, seÃ±ores! You see, there have been several uprisings lately,â Lieutenant Garcia explained to the Hardys. âThe first took place at Santia, on the southeast coast of our island, but each new raid occurs farther west. We fear the rebels may be moving toward Savango.â

He explained that the police had learned only a few hours earlier about the groupâs latest plan to seize or blow up the airport.

âBut why?â Frank asked. âWhatâs their purpose?â

The lieutenant shrugged. âQuiÃ©n sabe? Perhaps they are criminals, crazy for power, trying to overthrow the lawfully elected government.â

Meanwhile, the prisoners were being questioned in another room. Frank and Joe were allowed to be present at the interrogation. It was disappointing, because none of the captured men would talk.

âIâll bet the one we caught wonât tell us anything, either,â Joe whispered to his brother.

As Frank nodded, the man suddenly raised his hand to mop the sweat from his brow. Joe gasped and clutched his brother by the arm.

âLook!â he whispered.

On the prisonerâs left forearm, just above the wrist, was a pineapple tattoo!

The Hardys exchanged excited glances. Did this sign mean that the man was a member of the same racket as the one in Eastern City with the tattoo on the left arm? The boys decided the chances were too slim for them to mention their suspicion to the Tropicale police.

After the prisoner had been taken to a cell, Lieutenant Garcia turned to the Hardys and said, âMay I see the note, please, that was handed to you on the field?â

When the officer finished studying it, Frank added, âI have a hunch the radio message we got in the plane was a fake, but Iâd like to make sure.â

He asked permission to place a long-distance telephone call to Bayport. In a few minutes Mrs. Hardyâs voice came through.

âIs everything all right?â she asked quickly.

âThereâs nothing to worry about, Mother,â Frank reassured her, then asked if she had sent the radio message.

âWhy, no, son.â

Somewhat upset, Mrs. Hardy begged her sons to take care of themselves. âAnd that goes for Chet and Tony and Jack!â she added.

When Lieutenant Garcia heard Frankâs report, he frowned. âIt would appear, senores, that this gang was trying to lure you into some kind of trap. Fortunately their plan failed.â

He summoned the prisoner who had delivered the note. The man glibly said a stranger had asked him to do the errand. Frank and Joe were sure he was lying, but he refused to change his story and was taken away to a cell.

After making signed statements, the Hardys were driven back to the airport in a police car. Here they ate a hearty lunch, then took off again for Puerto Rico.

âI certainly hope we have no more delays,â Joe said, heaving a great sigh.

It was late afternoon when they came in sight of the beautiful Caribbean island. From the air, it looked like a paradise of emerald green. White beaches with waving palms rimmed the shore line. Farther inland, cool blue mountains reared upward from the coastal plain.

âAh me! What a place in which to relax and dream!â Chet said as he peered down from the cabin window.

âYou mean with a well-filled lunch basket?â Tony put in, chuckling.

To the southeast of the International Airport near San Juan a green-clad mountain peak soared against the sky. âThatâs El YunqueâThe Anvil,â Jack pointed out. âItâs a tropical rain forest with ferns as high as houses.â

They landed and admired the large white modernistic terminal building as they walked toward it. The structure seemed to be poised on stilts.

Mr. Hardy was waiting to greet the travelers as soon as they cleared customs. âGood flight?â he asked.

âWaitâll you hear!â Joe grinned. âWe stopped off in Tropicale and barged smack into a revolution!â

âWell, Iâm glad you came through it alive!â Though eager to hear all the news, Mr. Hardy cautioned everyone not to talk freely until they were in their hotel rooms.

The group managed to squeeze into a single taxi. Soon they were whisked through a beautiful residential area of pink and white villas, then out onto a wide boulevard lined by palms, in clear view of the sea.

âPretty nice place,â Chet remarked. âLetâs have some fun while weâre here and not get mixed up with a bunch of crooks.â

The others smiled. When they reached the hotel, the boys went at once to Mr. Hardyâs room for a conference.

Frank and Joe quickly related everything that had happened to them since receiving his message of âFind Hugo purple turban.â

Mr. Hardy was amazed. âSo there were diamonds in the dummy! This case is even more complex than I realized,â he declared, his face grave. âAnd youâve done a good job. I thought that message might be a clue to a smuggling racket. It was written on a piece of paper left in a hastily vacated house.â

The detective confided to the boys that he was working for the United States Government on the theft of some rare isotopesâmaterials which could be used in the manufacture of atomic weapons.

âThe FBI believes they were stolen here in Puerto Rico, en route to foreign countries,â he added. âIt looks as if we may be up against a gang of air-freight thieves and smugglers who deal in other things besides isotopes!â

âAny leads so far?â Frank asked.

âJust one. My next job is to keep watch at a freight warehouse near the airport.â

Joe jumped up from his chair in excitement. âHow about Frank and Chet and Tony and myself doing a stakeout at the warehouse?â

The other boys were equally enthusiastic about the idea, and Mr. Hardy finally agreed. They soon devised a plan. The boys would hide in crates to be carted to the warehouse that evening.

After dinner the boys started out for a trucking company on a street called Calle Pacheco. The owner of the firm was cooperating with the police on the freight robberies.

âDonât look now,â said Tony a few minutes later, âbut I think a carâs tailing us.â

Frank leaned forward to watch the taxiâs rear-view mirror. âYouâre right,â he muttered. âMaybe weâd better split up.â

Quickly he arranged with Chet and Tony to stay in the taxi and try to shake off their pursuer. âIf you lose him, meet us at the trucking company in half an hour.â

Three blocks down, the driver stopped for a red light. Quickly the Hardys jumped from the taxi and lost themselves in the passing throng of pedestrians.

They had not gone far when Frank and Joe noticed that a tall man seemed to be trailing them. His face was almost hidden by the pulled-down brim of his slouch hat. The Hardys were struck by something familiar about the fellow! But there was no time to mull this over.

âBetter shake him,â Frank muttered.

Joe agreed. Quickly the boys hailed a taxi and resumed their ride to the trucking company. When they arrived, the owner said:

âAh, sÃ, I have the boxes all prepared. The covers, of course, will not be nailed down.â

A few minutes later Chet and Tony joined them. The boys took their places in the big crates, which were loaded aboard a truck. Soon they were bumping and rattling through the streets of San Juan.

When the truck arrived at the warehouse, the boxes were carried inside to the main room. As closing time neared, the workmenâs voices died away and everything became quiet.

The first half hour of the boysâ vigil went slowly. Cramped and tense in their hiding places, they sweated out each passing moment.

Then Frank heard a noise!

CHAPTER XI

Warehouse Marauders

FRANK strained his ears, wondering if he was mistaken. Then he heard it againâa faint scratchy noise which he could not identify.

Raising the lid of his box, he beamed a flashlight toward the sound. A large sheet of dirty wrapping paper lay a few yards away. On it crouched a small, brown furry creature.

âWhat gives?â came a whisper from Joeâs box.

âJust a rat.â

The rodent froze for a few seconds in the glare of light, its beady eyes shining with reflected brilliance. Then it scampered off into a dark hole nearbyâapparently the opening to a small tunnel for an electrical conduit, but large enough for a person to crawl into.

The boys resumed their wait, shifting occasionally to exercise their cramped muscles. The warehouse lay wrapped in gloom, pierced only by a faint glow from the moon through a skylight.

Some time later another noise broke the stillness. It was a faint curse in Spanish! The voice sounded oddly hollow and muffled.

Frank and Joe raised the lids of their crates a crack. A moment later they saw two figures wriggle through the tunnel opening. Both snapped on flashlights and played them around the room. Then the intruders, whose faces were in shadow, separated and began examining the shipping labels on the boxes and crates.

One of the men approached the spot where the Hardys were hiding. The boys closed the lids noiselessly and held their breaths. Through a knot-hole, Joe could make out one manâs legs, scarcely inches away. Apparently he was examining the label on Joeâs box!

A cold sweat broke out on the youthâs forehead. What if he opened the lid?

âHey, come here!â called out a raspy voice.

âQuÃ© quieres?â said the man near Joe.

âThink Iâve found somethinâ goodâa box of fine Swiss watches! Should make a real haul!â

âAh, bueno!â

As the Spanish-speaking intruder moved away, Joe gave a noiseless sigh of relief.

The boys could hear muttered conversation as the thieves discussed the loot. Cautiously Frank and Joe raised the lids of their boxes. A moment later Chet and Tony lifted theirs.

They could see the figures of the two burglars silhouetted by their own flashlights. They were squatting in front of a small crate, their backs to the boys. One of them seemed to be holding a bag.

Scarcely daring to breathe, the four boys watched tensely. One of the men produced a fine saw and began cutting deftly along the label of the box containing the watches.

In a few minutes an opening was made. The thief reached in and removed the packaged watches. Then his partner began filling the box with sand and rubble from the bag to equal its previous weight.

âOkay. Now!â hissed Frank, giving the signal to attack.

Moving silently, the four boys started to climb out of their crates. Chet was the first to emerge completely. But, in his eagerness, he let the crate lid slip from his sweaty fingers.

B-a-a-ang!

Instantly the burglars sprang to their feet. âSomebodyâs here!â cried one of them.

The other shrilled, âVÃ¡monos! Letâs go!â

Clicking off their flashlights, the two thieves darted off into the darkness. But the boys snapped on their own lights and managed to pin the fleeing men for a moment in the yellow beams.

One of the thieves was heavy-set, dark, and swarthy. The other, slim and blond, bore a startling resemblance to Joe!

The Hardys became tense with excitement. Was this the contact man of the gangâthe one who had chloroformed Jack Wayne back at the Bayport airfield?

âIâll guard the tunnel,â Frank told his brother. âThe rest of you scatter!â

The two thieves had already taken cover among the barrels and crates.

âOne of âemâs over there!â shouted Tony. But a crash of boxes indicated that their quarry was already plunging off.

Joe, Tony, and Chet lost no time in pursuing him. Soon the darkened warehouse was a scene of bedlam.

âI wonder where the watchman is,â thought Frank. âHe must have been knocked out.â

Crates were banged over, piles of goods and boxes sent toppling as hunters and quarry blundered about in the darkness.

âHelp! Iâve got him!â Chet panted, in a far corner of the warehouse.

Tony sprinted to aid him. His beam picked out the blond man, struggling in Chetâs bearlike embrace. Instantly Tony tackled the fellow around the knees just as he jerked loose from Chet. The stout boy flashed his light square on the prisoner.

âItâs the one who looks like Joe!â Chet cried out triumphantly.

âI am Joe!â howled the captive.

âOh, no!â babbled Chet in nervous confusion.

Just then a yell from Frank brought the others whirling to attention. âTheyâre getting away. Come quick!â

The three boys raced in the direction of Frankâs voice. But it was too late. During the melee between Chet, Joe, and Tony, the two suspects had grabbed Frank and pinned him behind a stack of barrels. Then they had wriggled through the tunnel.

âCome on! Letâs go after them!â cried Joe.

He started to crawl into the tunnel headfirst, but Tony dragged him back.

âNo, Joe. Donât try it! Those guys have the advantage.â

âBut we canât let âem get away!â Joe protested in exasperation.

In the meantime, Chet had released Frank and they ran forward.

âLetâs try the door!â Frank suggested. âMaybe we can nail the men when they come out the other end of the tunnel.â

He led the way eagerly toward the door. The others hurried after him, and tried to push it open.

âLocked!â he cried.

The boys hurried to a door leading to the office and let themselves outside. Back of a bench an elderly man was groggily getting to his feet.

âYou the watchman here?â Frank asked.

âSÃ. IâI thinkâsomeoneâknock me out.â

âYouâre right. Two thieves whoâve just robbed this place. Weâre after them now. Whereâs the exit to the tunnel?â

The dazed watchman led the boys to the maraudersâ point of exit, an open manhole with its cover overturned. The discovery brought fresh groans.

âOf all the rotten breaks!â Joe grumbled.

Just then Frank heard the sound of a car starting up in the distance. âThere they go!â he shouted, as twin headlights swept a path through the darkness.

Joe glanced around frantically for some way to take up the chase. He spotted a small motorcycle. âWhose is that?â

âIt is mine, seÃ±or,â the bewildered watchman admitted.

âMay I borrow it?â

âSÃ, si! But be carefulâpor favor!â

Joe dashed toward the motorcycle, leaped into the saddle, and kicked the starter. The engine sputtered to life. With a blast of exhaust, he took off after the fleeing car.

The noise of the motorcycle gave warning to the thieves that they were being followed. At top speed they careened through the darkened residential district of Santurce, then into the old town of San Juan.

Most of the way, Joe managed to keep the car clearly in view. But after passing San Crist6bal fortress on the right, he emerged into the Plaza ColÃ³n to find that the burglarsâ automobile was no longer in sight.

In the center of the square on a tall pillar, a bronze statue of Christopher Columbus loomed against the night sky.

âOh, brother! If you could only talk!â Joe muttered helplessly.

Obviously the thieves had disappeared down one of the narrow, cobblestoned streets leading off the square. But which one?

Wheeling over to a parked taxi, Joe questioned the driver about a speeding car. âAh, sÃ, seÃ±or. It went that way!â replied the driver, pointing down one of the streets.

âThanks! Muchas gracias!â Joe exclaimed.

So that the warehouse thieves wouldnât hear him approaching, he parked the motorcycle near the entrance to the narrow street and then continued on foot. He had gone scarcely a hundred yards when he gasped jubilantly. Ahead in the moonlight stood the thief who resembled Joe!

He was putting something into a basket which had been lowered by rope from a balcony. Joe had seen the same method being used earlier that evening when people purchased fruit or vegetables from street vendors.

Sprinting forward, Joe tried to take the man by surprise. Unfortunately, the fellow spotted him and darted into a narrow, twisting street.

Quickly Joe reached up and managed to grab the basket. But the man on the balcony gave it a hard yank, jerking it free. The basket shot up out of Joeâs grasp.

The young sleuth tried to find an entrance to the building, but apparently there was none facing the street. He retraced his steps part way to the square and found an alley which led back to the houses. Cautiously he made his way through the shadowy, musty passageway.

Counting the buildings, Joe found the one from which the basket had been lowered. It was a three-story building of pink stucco, with shuttered windows and a wrought-iron balcony on each of the two upper stories. An outside flight of steps led up to its gloomy-looking interior.

Joe started up the steps on tiptoe. But he did not get far. Suddenly he was struck on the head. Joe slumped to the ground, unconscious.

CHAPTER XII

The Tattooed Prisoner

BACK at the warehouse, Frank, Chet, and Tony waited anxiously for Joe to return. The police had come and gone. The boys had given the watchman first aid and he was now feeling better.

âJoeâs been gone almost an hour,â muttered Frank, glancing worriedly at his watch.

âWhy donât we get a taxi,â Tony suggested, âand see if we can find him?â

âSecond the motion!â Chet responded.

But finding a taxi at that hour was not easy and the boys finally had to go to the airport to round one up. Since the thievesâ car had sped away in the direction of Santurce, Frank ordered the driver to try that part of the city first. But fifteen minutes of cruising up and down the darkened streets proved fruitless.

âTake us into Old San Juan,â Frank said.

As they drove into Columbus Plaza, Chet exclaimed, âThereâs the motorcycle Joe borrowed!â

It was standing parked at the curb where Joe had left it, but the young sleuth was nowhere in sight. Frank paid their driver, and gave him an extra dollar to take the motorcycle back to the watchman at once.

The three boys began a search of the surrounding streets for Joe. But the hunt was unsuccessful and finally they gave up in despair.

âGuess we may as well go back to the hotel,â Frank said glumly. âBut I sure hate to tell Dad that Joeâs missing.â

Mr. Hardy was greatly dismayed by the news. âWith the gang weâre up against, anything may have happened to Joe!â he declared.

Before he could formulate a plan of action, there was a knock on the door of the hotel room.

âYou are Senor Fenton Hardy?â a Puerto Rican police officer asked.

âThatâs right.â

âYou have a son named Joe Hardy?â

âI certainly do. You have news of him?â Mr. Hardy asked anxiously.

âI regret to inform you, seÃ±or, that your son is in jail.â

The officer, expecting to hear alarmed protests from the group, was amazed to see looks of relief on their faces.

âWeâll go to see him at once,â Mr. Hardy told the officer.

A police car took them to San Juan Police Headquarters. Here they learned, to their amazement, that Joe was being held for attempted burglary. A turnkey took them to his dimly lighted cell.

âThere he is, senor,â said the jailer.

The blond figure inside was slumped dejectedly on his cot, a livid bruise on one temple. But at sight of Mr. Hardy and the others, he brightened and jumped to his feet.

âAm I ever glad to see you people!â

Mr. Hardy was about to greet his son when Chet cried out in alarm. âLook! Itâs not Joe! Itâs that fellow who resembles him!â

Chet pointed out that on the prisonerâs left forearm was a pineapple tattoo! To everybodyâs surprise, the prisoner merely laughed.

âHad you fooled, Chet,â he said. âItâs only a joke. I put the pineapple on myself with this indelible pencil I borrowed from the guard.â

Frank chuckled with relief. âYouâre Joe, all right. Someday that stunt may come in handy.â

âNow that you have been identified,â said Mr. Hardy, âsuppose you tell us why youâre here.â

Joe told about the basket incident and how he had tried to enter the house by a rear stairway. âSomeone conked me. When I came to, the guy claimed I was a burglar and called the police!â

âHmm.â Mr. Hardy regarded his son with a wry smile. âI suppose you can hardly blame the fellow for being suspicious.â

âThatâs if heâs on the level,â said Joe. âBut I have a hunch he was more interested in keeping me from finding out what was in the basket!â

âWeâll check up on the place,â Mr. Hardy said.

After showing his credentials, the detective obtained Joeâs release. Although the officer in charge was a bit dubious, he issued a search warrant and dispatched a police car to take the group to the house in question.

They ascended the stairs to the rear entrance and knocked. A thin old man opened the door.

The policeman said in Spanish that they had a warrant to search the house for stolen goods.

The old man seemed bewildered, but allowed them to enter. He informed them that a separate family lived on each floor. Mr. Hardy and the policeman questioned all the occupants and searched every room with the help of the boys. Nothing suspicious was found and the man who had charged Joe with burglary was not at home.

âLooks like a wild-goose chase,â Chet murmured as the searchers reached the top floor.

Frank, too, was about ready to give up when he caught sight of a small white card on the floor. He took out his handkerchief, wiped some dust off his hands, then dropped the handkerchief on the floor as if accidentally. He picked it up casually and returned the handkerchief to his pocket. A few minutes later the group left.

When they gathered later in Mr. Hardyâs hotel room, the private investigator tossed his Panama hat on the bed with a sigh.

âWell, boys, it was a good try,â he told them, âbut we seem to have run into a blind alley.â

Frank grinned. âMaybe not, Dad.â

He pulled out the handkerchief and extracted the small white card. âI found this on the top floor,â he explained, âbut I didnât want to mention it in front of the people who lived there.â

Mr. Hardy and the others read the card in amazement. It bore the words, crudely printed by hand:

CABEZONA N

Joe whistled loudly. âItâs the same code message we worked out from those dummy instructions back in Bayport!â he exclaimed. âThis house may be a hideout for the gang!â

âYouâre probably right, son,â said his father, furrowing his brow. âBut we may have a hard time convincing the police of that.â

He and the boys discussed the mystery for nearly an hour before retiring, but arrived at no solution. The next morning they breakfasted together in the pleasant hotel dining room.

âMmm, boy, this iced pineapple juice is sure good!â Chet smacked his lips.

Just then a bellhop came to their table. He informed Mr. Hardy that a visitor was waiting in the lobby. The detective asked to be excused and left. When he returned, there was a grave expression on his face.

âWho was it, Dad?â Frank asked.

âA United States federal agent,â Mr. Hardy replied quietly. âSomething new and serious has come up on my case. Iâm not free to tell you any more just now, but it looks as though you boys will have to carry on here by yourselves.â

Frank, Joe, Chet, and Tony enthusiastically said they were ready. Mr. Hardy informed them that he and Jack Wayne would have to take off at once for a secret destination. He quickly finished his meal and said good-by.

After breakfast the four boys assembled in Frank and Joeâs room.

âIt seems to me,â said Joe, âthat the house we searched last night is still our best lead. I think we ought to watch it.â

âCheck and double check,â Tony said.

Frank agreed but said that to avoid suspicion they should not all take on the job at once. âWeâd surely be spotted. Tony, how about you taking the first watch? With your olive complexion, you could pass for a native.â

Tony grinned. âThatâs fine with me.â He promptly left by taxi for Columbus Plaza.

The other three boys decided to look through the telephone directory on the off-chance that âCabezonaâ might be a personâs name. Chet offered to check on this.

âOnly one person in the whole city of San Juan named Cabezona,â he informed the others after he ran his finger down the page. âAnd his initials are F. X.ânot N.â

âLetâs talk to him, anyhow,â urged Joe.

The boys left the hotel and asked the doorman for directions to the Avenida Ponce de Leon. At the address Chet had jotted down was a haberdashery shop. The owner, Senor F. X. Cabezona, was a stout, jolly man who spoke excellent English.

âAnd what may I show the young men? Shirts? Socks?â He beamed at his three customers.

âA necktie,â Frank replied.

The proprietor showed them an assortment of gay ties, then said there were some that they might like in a new shipment just unpacked. He disappeared into a back room.

While he was gone, Chet whispered, âThis canât be the right Cabezona.â

âHe sure doesnât look like a racketeer,â Joe agreed.

When the owner returned, Frank said casually, âYour name is rather unusual.â

âAh, sÃ!â The jolly man chuckled. âIn Puerto Rico the word means the big pineapples which grow on the south coast.â

Pineapples! The Hardys and Chet were elated. They had picked up another clue! Maybe the word in the Hugo instructions and on the card Frank had found referred to the pineapple tattoo! It must be the gangâs identification!

The affable haberdasher went on, âSo far as I know, my wife and young son Carlos and I are the only Cabezona family on the island.â

Frank and Joe wondered if there could be another Cabezona in Puerto Rico, perhaps living there secretly and leading the underground group.

After buying a tie, the boys returned to their hotel. When they reached their room, the phone was ringing. Joe answered. It was Tony calling.

âI just saw a tall guy with a large head sneak into the alley back of the house. How about you fellows getting over here? I have a hunch somethingâs up!â

âWeâre on our way!â Joe promised. âMeet you at the statue of Columbus.â

He put down the phone and relayed the news to Frank and Chet. Both were jubilant.

âThat man might be the one who trailed us on our way to the trucking company last night,â Joe pointed out.

âNot only that,â said Frank, âbut maybe his nickname is Cabezona!â

CHAPTER XIII

Pursuit at El Morro

WHEN the Hardys and Chet reached Columbus Plaza in a taxi, they saw Tony standing in the doorway of a small souvenir shop. It was on the corner of the narrow street to which Joe had traced the mystery man.

âOkay, right here, driver!â said Frank. The passengers got out and Tony came over to join them.

âNow tell us everything, Tony,â Joe requested when the group walked off a distance, out of anyone elseâs hearing.

âWell, first of all, I want to tell you Iâve hired a swell observation post for us. Cost a buck,â Tony explained. âItâs a room in a house right across the street from the hideout. Weâll have a clear view of both the pink stucco place and the alley.â

âGood work!â said Joe.

The boys hurried down the narrow, cobblestoned street, then ducked into the side entrance of the house where Tony had rented a room. They posted themselves at the front windows of the room. Latticed shutters enabled them to peer out without being seen. Almost an hour went by without results.

âYou sure you werenât seeing things?â complained Chet, who was getting warm.

âPositive!â said Tony. âGive the man in there a chance. If he went in, heâs bound to come out some time!â

âUnless weâve already missed him,â Chet retorted.

The words were hardly out of his mouth when Tony exclaimed in a low voice, âThere he is!â

A tall man, with an unusually large head, emerged from the alley. He was swarthy and had an aquiline-shaped nose.

âAbdul!â Frank exclaimed excitedly. âHeâs the fellow who was shadowing us, Joe.â

His brother nodded. âWe couldnât place him then with that hat over his face, plus not wearing his fancy Oriental getup.â

The assistant to Hugo the fortuneteller, hatless now, wore dungarees and a striped jersey.

âThere is a hookup between those Hugodummy smugglers and the freight thieves!â said Frank.

âLetâs follow him!â Joe urged.

The four started out at once, keeping a safe distance behind the man. Abdul headed away from Columbus Plaza. At Calle San Justo he turned right and walked for several blocks, then walked to the left on the Boulevard del Valle.

Eventually he came to a broad iron gate standing open to visitors. It was the entrance to Fort Brooke, the big United States military post at the western tip of Old San Juan. With a casual salute to the soldier on guard, Abdul strolled on through.

âGallopinâ gooseberries!â Chet burst out. âWhatâs he up to now? Is he going to steal some military secrets?â

âOnly one way to find out,â Frank replied, hurrying toward the fort.

As the boys passed through the gate, a grassy green plateau stretched ahead of them. It swept out toward the ocean and was used as a golf course. Men and women were playing golf. Touristsâ cars stood parked along the road, which curved to the left of the course. Facing this was a row of Army buildings and officersâ homes.

âLetâs separate and act like sightseers,â Frank advised his companions.

Each of them started wandering around alone, but kept a wary eye on Abdul. The man headed straight for the old Spanish battlements of El Morro. This ancient fort stood poised on a bluff jutting out over the sea, beyond the end of the golf course.

When Abdul reached the massive stone walls of the fortress, he glanced around for a moment. Seemingly satisfied that no one was following him, he ducked hastily into a round, stone sentry house at the very tip of the rock-walled point. Below it, the surf pounded itself into foam over the coral rocks.

âNow why did he do that?â Chet asked himself, puzzled.

The boys began closing in. Frank reached the spot first and made his way along the wall of the steep parapet where an ancient bronze cannon offered a convenient hiding place. Frank crouched down behind it to watch Abdul.

Inside the sentry box the man took a mirror from his pocket and aimed it to catch the sun. Then he began shooting flashes of light out to sea. Frank had a clear view.

âHeâs signaling in international code!â the boy realized with a gasp of excitement.

Slowly the message was spelled out: â3-4-8- 9-P-M-Skeleton.â

Frank wondered what it meant and who was receiving the message. He stood up and glanced across the water. Half a mile out he could see a blue speedboat.

Just then Abdul turned to leave the sentry house. With a start he noticed Frank standing behind the cannon. At the same moment, the other three boys burst from their hiding places.

Muttering a threat, Abdul took off like a bolt of lightning, heading for the road. Joe tried to nail him with a flying tackle, but the huge man swept the boy aside with a single blow of his great arm.

âStop him!â yelled Frank to a soldier and several sightseers. âHeâs wanted by the police!â

Most of the tourists were bewildered by the sudden commotion, but some of the onlookers grabbed for the fugitive too late. Startled golfers watched the chase wonderingly.

By this time, Abdul was streaking across the links with the boys in hot pursuit. Despite his weight, the man covered the ground with amazing speed. Even Joe and Frank, who were track stars at Bayport High, could not catch up to him.

Abdul gained the road just as a delivery truck passed. He leaped on the tailboard, and in a matter of seconds, the vehicle rumbled through the gate.

âHeâs getting away!â Joe shouted, clenching his fists in bitter disappointment.

At that moment one of the golfers rushed forward. âJump in my car!â he cried, sprinting toward a white convertible.

Panting their thanks, Frank and Joe piled in with him. As the car shot forward, the boys poured out their story in bits and snatches.

âThat fellowâs wanted by the police,â Frank explained. âHeâs part of a smuggling ring.â

âI hope we can catch him,â the driver said.

Fortunately, due to the townâs narrow streets, traffic had to move slowly. Swinging down Calle Cristo, they soon caught sight of the delivery truck. It had turned left into Calle Sol only to find the way blocked by a pushcart peddler.

Frank wondered who was receiving the signals

âThisâll do!â Joe said to their driver. âA million thanks.â

The boys leaped from the car and ran toward the truck, Joe in the lead. To his dismay, Abdul was no longer aboard!

âPardon me,â Joe said to the man at the wheel. âWhereâs the big fellow who hitched a ride with you?â

The driver leaned out of his cab and pointed down the street. âHe jumped off the truck and went into that restaurant, seÃ±or! Caramba! What kind of game is going on here?â

Without waiting to explain, the boys dashed off. A moment later they pulled up to a sliding halt as Joe caught sight of the restaurantâs name.

âLook!â he gasped. âEl Calypso CalienteâHot Calypso! Itâs the password used at the airport back in Eastern City!â

âHold it a second,â Frank cautioned as his brother started inside. âTony, you and Chet wait outside in case Abdul tries another fast one. If you see him come out, grab him.â

âRight!â

Frank and Joe entered the restaurant and glanced around swiftly. Abdul was not in sight, so they headed toward the rear of the place.

The white-jacketed proprietor bustled forward to bar the way. He was a rather sinister-looking man with a heavy beard.

âYou wish something to eat, senores?â

âWeâre looking for a man whoâs wanted by the police,â Frank told him. âHe came in here a few minutes ago.â

âWhat did he look like?â

âA big fellow in a striped jersey.â

The proprietor bared his teeth in a wide smile. âYou are wrong, seÃ±ores. No one of that description has entered the restaurant.â

âSuppose we look in the kitchen, just in case,â Frank suggested.

The owner hesitated, then raised his voice slightly and said in Spanish, âVisitors coming to the kitchen.â To the boys he added, âMuy bien, seÃ±ores. You may go in, if you wish.â

He gestured toward the swinging doors that led to the kitchen.

âThanks,â Frank said crisply, and strode forward, ahead of Joe.

But as Frank pushed the doors open, his face suddenly blanched in alarm.

CHAPTER XIV

The Unseen Enemy

âLOOK out, Joe!â Frank yelled as he ducked to the floor of the restaurantâs kitchen.

A sheet of boiling water flew at the boys, just as Joe dropped to his knees. Both boys barely avoided being scalded, as the water passed harmlessly over their heads.

The burly cook who had thrown the water stood holding a huge empty kettle in both hands. Joe was white-faced with anger. He jumped to his feet, ready to fly at the man with both fists.

âWhy, you bigâ!â he exploded.

Frank interrupted with a shout, âLook! There goes Abdul!â

The man was darting out the back door. Frank and Joe started after him, but the stout chef blocked their way, saying, âAh, I am so sorry about the water, amigos!â

He stepped back with a look of dismay as he spied the tattoo of indelible pencil still visible on Joeâs arm.

âPlease, Beppo!â he trembled. âI did not mean toââ

âShut up, you fool!â the proprietor snarled.

The chefâs words ended in a gulp, but he kept on staring at Joe with a strange look.

âWhoâs Beppo?â Frank demanded.

The cook said nothing, pretending not to understand.

âMaybe heâs my double,â said Joe.

Once more the owner assumed his pleasant expression. âHe is confused, seÃ±or. I fear this little accident has greatly upset him. And now if you will kindly leaveââ

âNot yet!â snapped Frank. âYou two are mixed up in some kind of racket and we intend to find out what itâs all about. If you donât want to tell us, maybe youâd rather talk to the police.â

âThe police!â Obviously dismayed by Frankâs threat, the proprietor suddenly became nervously polite.

âI will tell you everything. That big manâhe rushed in here and said he wanted to hide. And if we told someone called Beppo, who has a pineapple tattoo, or anyone else that he was here, he would kill us. So I gave you a lie. I am so sorry.â

âBut what about that hot water?â Joe asked.

The cook spoke up. âThe big man made me throw it. He held me at gunpointâotherwise I would not do such a terrible thing!â

Frank and Joe did not know whether to believe the story, but they could not refute it. Finally Frank said, âOkay. Weâll go now.â

Both the cook and the proprietor looked relieved.

Outside, Tony and Chet were waiting eagerly. The Hardys related what had happened.

âYou fellows should have crowned âem both with that empty kettle!â Chet exploded indignantly.

âWhat now?â said Tony. âGo to the police?â

Frank shook his head. âThose men in there just might be telling the truth. Anyhow, we have plenty of other leads to keep us busy.â

âHow about that motorboat Abdul might have been signaling from El Morro?â Joe asked.

âIâd say it was worth checking up on. With that blue color, it should be easy to spot, if itâs still in this area.â

âLet me handle that end of it,â Tony suggested. âIâm really aching for a chance to do some power-cruising in these waters!â

Back in Bayport, Tony owned a boat called the Napoli II, in which he spent most of his spare time.

The boys took a taxi to the oceanfront. It was a beautiful day and the sea sparkled in the sunshine. The four sleuths ate lunch at a restaurant specializing in seafood, then Frank rented a trim little speedboat.

âOh, boy, I can hardly wait to take her out!â Tony gloated as he warmed up the motor.

âWe should stick in pairs to be on the safe side,â Joe said thoughtfully. Chet would accompany Tony.

A few moments later the two boys put-putted out across the water. Frank and Joe returned to the hotel, eager to work further on the clue of the pineapple tattoo, and, if possible, to link it with the word Cabezona. While there Joe scrubbed the indelible mark from his arm.

âLetâs talk to the hotel manager,â Frank suggested. They found him in his office and engaged him in conversation.

âDoes the word Cabezona mean anything to you?â Frank inquired.

âIt means a large head,â the manager responded. He looked at the boys quizzically. âWhy do you ask?â

âIs Cabezona ever used to mean a pineapple?â Joe questioned.

The manager scratched his head in thought for a moment. âI donât know,â he said. âBut I suppose the word could be used when referring to a large pineapple. If you are interested in pineapples, a friend of mine could give you information on the subject. He is Juan Delgado and owns a pineapple plantation at Manati.â

âWeâd sure appreciate it if you could arrange for us to make a visit,â said Frank.

âI will call him at once.â

The manager put through the call and carried on a rapid, pleasant conversation in Spanish. When he hung up, he turned to the boys with a smile.

âIt is all arranged. He will expect you early this afternoon.â

âThank you,â said Frank. âYouâve been a great help.â

The brothers went to a car-rental agency, and made arrangements for hiring a coupÃ©.

The attendant provided them with a road map of the island, saying, âJust follow the directions I have marked, senores.â

The drive was thoroughly enjoyable, with a cool trade wind steadily blowing in from the sea. On their left, the blue-green mountains rose toward the cloudless sky.

The lush coastal plain was dotted with waving seas of sugar cane, interspersed here and there with fields of pineapple planted in orderly rows.

In places the road became hilly, with shade trees arching overhead. Some were flamboyantes, the flame trees with gorgeous red blossoms.

âThings really grow here!â Joe said admiringly.

âLike living in a flower garden!â Frank remarked. âMother and Aunt Gertrude would love this.â

Arriving in Manati, the boys inquired the way to the Delgado plantation and were told it was located a mile north of town. When they reached it, Senor Delgado greeted them cordially on the steps of his long, low white bungalow.

âWelcome, amigos! I understand you have come to learn about pineapples.â

âYes, Senor Delgado,â Frank said as he and Joe shook hands with the man. âCabezona pineapples.â

The plantation owner drove the boys around, pointing out the fields of spiked plants in various stages of growth. Men were busy in one section cutting off huge pineapples with long, sharp knives. Then, after showing Frank and Joe the huge cannery, he took them into his office. A white-jacketed Puerto Rican boy brought glasses and a pitcher of iced pineapple juice on a tray.

âAnd now, perhaps you would like to ask me some questions,â said Senor Delgado as they all sipped the fruit juice.

Shooting a quick glance at his brother, Frank decided to take the plantation owner into their confidence. When the servant left, he explained that they were trying to solve a mystery.

âWe have an idea,â Frank said, âthat a certain dangerous group in Puerto Rico may use a pineapple as a sort of insignia. Have you ever heard of anyone wearing a pineapple tattoo on his left forearm?â

Senor Delgado shook his head. âI have never heard of such a thing, seÃ±ores, but it is certainly possible.â

Joe inquired if Cabezona were the name of a place somewhere in Puerto Rico. Again Senor Delgado replied in the negative.

But the native servant, returning just in time to hear the question, interrupted politely, âExcuse me, senores, but I have heard of a small place called Punta Cabezona on the coast north of here. The people call it this because the land is thickly overgrown, and looks like a huge pineapple. It is near the La Palma sugar central.â

âSugar central?â Joe repeated as both boys tried hard to conceal their excitement.

âA mill where the sugar cane is ground up and crushed,â Senor Delgado explained. âI have never heard of this Punta Cabezona, but I can at least give you a note of introduction to the owner of the central, and he can give you exact directions.â

He quickly wrote the note, then the boys drove off. Some time later the mill came into view, in the midst of vast fields of sugar cane. A tall stack, jutting up from the millâs corrugated iron roof, belched a steady plume of smoke.

âThe whole air smells sweet around here,â Joe observed.

Frank stopped the car and they got out at a small building with a sign marked Office. Inside, they found the manager and gave him Senor Delgadâs note. After reading it, the man rubbed his chin and looked puzzled.

âI am sorry, but I myself am new in this district. However, I am sure that my foreman, Rodriguez, could direct you to this Punta Cabezona. You will find him working the cane crusher in the mill.â

The boys walked over to the main central building. Trucks and tractor-trains loaded with cane were drawn up outside. Huge cranes lifted the stalks and dumped them into a chute.

Frank and Joe entered and found themselves in a dark bedlam of noise. Giant rollers ground the cane into juice, which was then pumped into hot, spinning kettles to be granulated into sugar.

A flight of steel steps led up to a narrow catwalk. At the far end was an enclosed cab, where the operator controlled the crushers.

âThat must be Rodriguez up there.â Frank had to shout to make himself heard.

The boys climbed the stairs and made their way along the catwalk, clinging to a slender handrail. They were fascinated by the scene below. On their left were the huge rollers. On the right there was a steep drop past the giant flywheel into a pit of churning machinery.

Suddenly Frank and Joe were shoved from behind. Taken off guard, they lost their balance. With wild yells, the boys toppled over the left rail!

CHAPTER XV

Atomic Cargo

As FRANK went over the railing, he managed to clutch an iron upright with one hand. Joe grabbed his brotherâs belt. White with fear, the two boys hung dangling above the pit of sugar-crushing machinery!

âHelp! Help!â they shouted. But the thundering machinery drowned out their voices.

Would SeÃ±or Rodriguez hear their cries in time to save them from a horrible fate?

Joe reached up, and by stretching was able to grasp a bar and let go the belt. The boysâ last ounce of strength was ebbing fast when Frank saw a figure in tan work clothes running along the catwalk toward them.

âHang on, Joe!â he gasped. âSomeoneâs coming!â

An instant later Frankâs wrist was seized in a strong grip, while another brawny arm reached down to grab Joeâs. Singlehanded, the foreman hauled the boys across the rail.

By the time the Hardys were dropping weakly onto the catwalk, two other workmen arrived on the scene to lend a hand.

âSanta Maria!â gasped the boysâ rescuer, who had turned pale himself. âNever have I seen such a narrow escape!â

The men helped Frank and Joe down the iron steps and out into the fresh air.

âThank you. Thank you very much,â Frank said to the man who had saved their lives. âAre you SeÃ±or Rodriguez?â

âSÃ, I am Rodriguez,â the foreman replied. âAnd now do you mind telling me the reason why you came so close to killing yourselves?â

Joe explained what had happened, adding that the boys had not seen the person who had shoved them. The brawny foreman exploded with anger. âIf I get my hands on that killer, I will wring his neck!â

Turning to the workers, he asked in Spanish if any of them had witnessed the incident. One man told of having seen a man run down from the catwalk and flee out the door. Through the mill window, he had seen him drive off in a car.

Rodriguez said to the boys, âI can assure you none of my men would try such a hideous trick!â

âI believe you,â Frank said quietly, then after a pause, he asked, âWe came here to get directions to a place called Punta Cabezona.â

âAh, sÃ,â said Rodriguez. âIt is about five or six miles from here, but the road there is rather rough.â He gave the boys careful directions, and expressed the hope they would meet again under pleasanter circumstances.

Frank and Joe thanked him, then walked back to the central office. As they entered, the manager looked up.

âDid your friend find you, senores?â he inquired.

âWhat friend?â Joe asked in surprise.

âI did not catch his name, but he was a very tall man with a large head. I told him you had just gone over to the mill.â

Frank and Joe exchanged knowing glances. Abdul! But how did he know they were here?

After telling briefly about their close brush with death, Frank asked if he might use the telephone to call SeÃ±or Delgado. The manager, distressed that he had unwittingly helped the would-be killer, hastily agreed.

âIâI do not know what to say, seÃ±ores!â he gasped.

âIt wasnât your fault,â Frank assured him.

The manager helped to put through the call, and Frank spoke to Senor Delgado.

âThis is Frank Hardy,â he told the plantation owner. âDid anyone come there looking for us after we left?â

Joe saw his brotherâs face tighten as he listened to the reply. When he hung up, Frankâs eyes were grim.

âWell, that explains it,â he said. âAbdul must have trailed us to the pineapple plantation. He arrived there right after we left and said he had an urgent message for us. So of course SeÃ±or Delgado told him where weâd gone.â

âHe must be a bad enemy,â the manager commented.

âWe agree,â the Hardys chorused.

Realizing that they were still in grave danger, the Hardys drove cautiously to Punta Cabezona. The dirt road twisted through palm groves and canopies of dense green vegetation. When the boys arrived, Frank stopped the car and they got out.

âEasy to see how this place got its name,â he remarked, peering ahead.

The spit of land, jutting out to sea, ended in a bulging mound. This was topped with bushy green foliage, which sprouted outward from the crown of the hill, giving the place the appearance of a huge pineapple.

âBut I wonder how it ties in with the gang,â Joe said with a puzzled frown. âThe place appears to be deserted.â

The boys strolled out on the tiny peninsula, and climbed the hill. Reaching the top, they poked about among the bushes and vegetation. But the thick underbrush showed no sign of having been trampled by human feet!

The Hardys were baffled. âI was sure we were on to something,â Frank said, disappointed. âLetâs walk along the shore.â

They encountered several natives on the way. When questioned, none of them could recall having seen anybody lurking around the point.

âWhy should a person go out there, seÃ±or?â said one old man in Spanish, shrugging his shoulders. âWithout a machete to chop down brush, there is hardly even a place to sit down!â

A few moments later a plane droned overhead. Frank looked up and noted that it was flying due north. Suddenly he snapped his fingers.

âCabezona N!â he whispered excitedly. âSay, Joe, that N might be a directional signal, meaning north of here. Maybe it leads to the gangâs hideout!â

âIn the middle of the ocean?â Joe questioned dubiously.

âNo! It could be some island north of Puerto Rico!â Frank explained.

Joe was impressed by his brotherâs theory. âMaybe youâve hit it,â he admitted. âWell, locating it will be our next trip, I suppose.â

Elated over the clue, the boys returned to San Juan. By the time they reached the hotel, it was seven oâclock. Tony and Chet had not returned yet.

âThey must be doing some real sleuthing,â Frank commented, a little worried.

The Hardys waited a while, but finally went down to the hotel dining room. Frank and Joe, growing anxious about their friends, had little appetite for their meal. As they forced themselves to eat, they discussed the message which Abdul had flashed out to sea: â3-4-8-9-P-M-Skeleton.â

âThat âPMâ part sounds like a time signal to me,â Joe remarked.

âSure, but a signal for what?â

Joe mulled over the problem. âWell, this is a shot in the dark,â he admitted, âbut how about a rendezvous at the airport? After all, if the racket weâre investigating is the theft of air-freight shipments, there might be some flight coming in that the gang is watching for.â

Frank nodded. âThat makes sense.â

After finishing their supper, the two boys sat in the lobby and waited another half hour for Chet and Tony, but they failed to appear.

âI think Iâll phone the police,â Frank said.

He put in a call and asked if any boat had been reported in trouble. The answer was No.

âThatâs a relief,â Frank told Joe. âBut Iâd feel better if Chet and Tony were here.â

âIâm getting the creeps waiting,â said Joe. âSuppose we go out to the airport and look over cargo flights.â

âOkay.â

After leaving a message for their friends, they took a taxi to the field. On the schedule board inside the air-freight operations office all incoming flights were posted.

Frank gave a gasp. âYou hit the nail on the head, Joe!â he exclaimed. âLook there!â

According to the board, cargo flight No. 348, en route from New York to South America, would stop at the field at 9 P.M.

Joe glanced at his watch. âAlmost that now. Letâs go out and take a look.â

The boys strolled up and down. Soon the green and red lights of a plane came into view overhead. Moments later, a large cargo ship thundered down out of the sky and taxied to a halt.

The boys moved closer, acting like casual sightseers. They watched as an unloading ramp was wheeled out to the plane and the crew disembarked.

âNo one seems to be meeting any of them,â Frank remarked. âThat must mean that the message I picked up refers to the cargo.â He added excitedly, âMaybe itâs on the plane and the gang is planning to steal it!â

Joe nodded. âKeep your eyes on things. Iâll try to contact the airport manager, or a guard.â

âRoger!â

Left to himself, Frank strolled as close to the plane as he felt was safe, without attracting attention. Just then the pilot and copilot walked past him, heading for the flight operations office.

âIâll be glad when the run is over,â Frank heard the pilot say. âI donât like carrying this kind of top-secret cargo.â

âNo,â said the copilot. âBut at least itâs well locked up.â

Frank wondered if the pilot could mean component parts for atomic weapons. At that moment, out of the corner of his eye, Frank noticed two men who seemed to be watching the ship closely. They were standing perfectly still in the shadow of the cargo warehouse which extended from the rear of the terminal building.

âI wonder who they are,â Frank thought. âProbably detectives!â

At that moment two cargo handlers drove a forklift to the cargo compartment door which stood open. After removing several crates and boxes, they went off, leaving the door wide open.

Frank looked for the men in the shadows. They were gone!

âCould they have been security guards assigned to watch the plane,â Frank reasoned, âor were they freight thieves?â

Frank wondered, too, if the handlers might have been bribed by the thieves not to close the cargo door! There might be a robbery of the shipâs top-secret cargo at any moment!

With no help in sight, Frank decided on a bold move. He hurried toward the plane and climbed into the cargo hold, reasoning that his presence alone might balk an attempted robbery. On the other hand, if the thief tried force, Frank could put up a fight and perhaps pin the man down until Joe arrived with the airport guards.

Just forward of the cargo hatch was a metal-gated section, enclosing large steel-strapped boxes. Frank found the gate open and went forward to inspect the cargo.

Flicking on his pocket flashlight, he played the beam over the crates and boxes. Suddenly Frank was startled by a sound behind him. Looking up, he saw Joe a few feet away. In relief he said:

âI thought youâd gone for help. If those thieves are getting ready to rob thisââ

Frank got no further. Too late he realized that the person was not Joe, but the smuggler who looked like him! The fellowâs fist shot out, caught Frank on the jaw, and sent him sprawling.

Just before the young sleuth blacked out, he heard the door slam shut.

Frank was a prisoner!

CHAPTER XVI

Island of Danger

INSIDE the cargo compartment Frank slowly revived. When he realized the plane was airborne, he was seized with terror. The ship was soaring higher and higher and the cargo hold was not pressurized! Frank shuddered at the thought of blacking out for an indefinite time through lack of enough oxygen at high altitudes. Also, there was the danger of freezing to death!

At the airport, meanwhile, Joe had managed to locate the night manager, a husky balding man named Mr. Lopez. Though somewhat doubtful about the boyâs story, he promised to alert both the tower and the airport detectives for any sign of a disturbance. Joe returned to the field just in time to see the cargo plane take off. Apparently there had been no trouble.

Frank was nowhere in sight. Joe walked through the waiting room, looking up and down.

Suddenly an alarming thought struck Joe. Was Frank, by any chance, in the plane? Joe hurried back to the managerâs office. Hastily he reported his brotherâs disappearance.

âPlease call the plane back, Mr. Lopez!â he exclaimed. âIâm sure Frankâs locked in the cargo compartment.â

The man looked puzzled. âWhy you told me yourself your brother had climbed out of the plane and reported everything was all right.â

âWhat?â

âLook! Are you playing a game?â snapped Mr. Lopez.

Joe turned pale. âI havenât been back here in your office since I first talked to you.â

Breathlessly Joe explained how a man they thought was a smuggler was practically his double. âThat faker has already posed as me once!â Joe went on. âHe did it so he could sabotage our plane before we flew here. Now heâs done it again, so they could trap my brother! Mr. Lopez, you must bring that plane back!â

Though startled by what Joe had told him, Lopez hesitated.

âI canât bring back the ship just on your say-so,â he protested. âMaybe your brother is still here. Iâll have him paged on the loudspeaker.â

In a moment the public-address system was blaring out Frankâs name, asking him to call the managerâs office at once. There was no response, but suddenly a startling bit of news was relayed to Lopez. The two detectives assigned to watch the cargo plane had been found unconscious.

Mr. Lopez needed no further convincing about Frankâs plight. He called the tower. âRadio Flight 348 to return to San Juan immediately. Emergency.â

Up in the control tower, the operator barked the orders into his mike. Then he added, âAttention, all planes. An emergency landing is expected. All other ships in the air, circle the field until further notice. Repeatâcircle the field.â

An ambulance with oxygen equipment was rushed out on the field. Joe found the tension almost unbearable as he waited. At last the green and red lights of the cargo craft were sighted. A few minutes later the big plane landed and taxied down the runway.

Even before the landing wheels slowed to a halt, the ambulance roared out to meet it. Doctor, stretcher-bearers, and ground crew stood ready as the door of the cargo hatch was unlocked.

Joe, forced to watch from the apron, saw a still figure being carried out onto the stretcher. Frank! Breaking away from the manager and guards, Joe raced out on the field.

âFrank! Frank!â he cried frantically.

âTake it easy, son,â said one of the ground crewmen, restraining him gently. âDocâs doing everything he can.â

The stretcher was lifted into the ambulance and Joe jumped in after it. The doctor applied an oxygen mask to Frank, then he filled a hypodermic and injected a stimulant.

Badly shaken, Joe could only watch and hope. After what seemed hours, he saw the color seeping back into his brotherâs cheeks. Soon Frank became conscious, but he appeared dazed.

Joe flashed an anxious look at the doctor, who nodded reassuringly. âHeâs all right now. But it was a mighty close call! Fortunately for him the plane had not remained at high altitudes for too long.â

A few minutes later Frank, with a rueful grin, told his story. âI sure am glad the plane was called back,â he remarked.

âThank your brother,â said the physician. âNow, young man, I want you to rest in our infirmary for an hour.â

While Frank relaxed on a hospital bed, word came that there had been no theft of freight from the plane, but the two cargo handlers had admitted accepting money from some man to leave the cargo door open.

âI have a hunch you foiled a robbery,â Joe told Frank. âThat shipment of parts for an atomic weapon will reach its destination now.â

âI hope so. But we didnât capture any of the gang. Whatâs more, theyâll probably make it tougher than ever for us.â

Joe nodded in agreement.

When the doctor discharged Frank, the boys started back to their hotel. âI sure hope Chet and Tony are there,â said Joe.

To their relief, the Hardys found that their two friends had just returned. They were sweaty and disheveled. Tony had a cut on his forehead and Chet was hobbling on one leg.

âIt looks as if youâd run into trouble,â Joe remarked in alarm.

âReal trouble,â Chet confessed.

He said that after an hour of cruising, he and Tony had spotted the suspicious blue speedboat and given chase. Suddenly, though the blue craft was outrunning their own, it had turned around and deliberately sideswiped Tonyâs boat!

âAs they went by,â Tony took up the story, âthe men in the boat hid their faces.â

âYou mean you didnât get a look at them?â Joe asked.

âNot a peek,â Tony replied. âAnd, boy, did they really let us have it!â

The collision had stove in the side of Tonyâs boat and disabled the propeller. Both Chet and Tony had been hurled from their seats and almost swept overboard by the speedboatâs powerful wake.

âWe managed to signal the harbor police by waving our shirts,â Chet said. âThey towed us into shore, then went to hunt for the blue boat.â

âAny luck?â asked Frank.

âNot a bit,â Chet replied. âWe hung around the dock waiting for word till it got dark, but the police couldnât find any trace of the blue speedboat.â

âIâll bet I know why,â Joe said grimly. âInstead of coming back to port, those men made for an island offshore. Thatâs probably the reason they smashed up Tonyâs boatâso you couldnât find out which way they were heading.â

For the first time the four friends grinned and Frank said, âBut they didnât fool us. Tomorrow weâll get another boat and head north of Cabezona.â

âAnd now,â said Tony, âtell Chet and me what you fellows have been doing.â

When they heard the Hardysâ story, their grins faded, and Chet said woefully, âAll I wanted was a ventriloquistâs dummy and look what happened!â

After another hour of conversation the four boys went to bed. The next morning they felt none the worse for their previous dayâs experiences. After a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, they took a taxi to the boat dock.

âWonder how much that manâll charge us for damages,â Tony said uncomfortably.

The boat owner, however, was quite cordial. âDo not worry, senores,â he assured the boys. âThe police have told me the whole story, and I know it was not your fault. Besides, the boat was covered by insurance.â

This time, Frank rented a much faster speedboat and filled the tank with enough fuel for a long run. Heading westward, they cruised along the Puerto Rican coast until Frank sighted a pineapple-shaped hill at the tip of a small spit of land.

âThereâs Punta Cabezona,â he told Tony. âNow steer a course due north.â

As they headed out to sea, the water was almost glassy calm. About twenty miles out, they sighted a small island, green and palm-fringed.

Joe gave a whoop of triumph. âFrank, I believe your hunch about a hideout north of Cabezona is paying off!â

âWhere to now?â Tony asked. âDo we make a landing?â

âThatâs what we came for,â Frank said grimly as he shaded his eyes to peer shoreward.

The tiny island was narrow and stringbeanshaped, with its long axis lying north and south. Tony cruised cautiously until he found an opening in the coral reef surrounding the islet. Then he steered toward the beach through the gentle breakers, and anchored in shallow water. The boys kicked off their sneakers and waded ashore.

âI wonder if any of the gang is lurking around,â Joe murmured when they reached the sandy beach, which sparkled bone-white in the sunshine. âMaybe we should haveââ

He broke off, startled, as a horde of wild-eyed natives sprang from a dense thicket of greenery. Waving clubs and knives, they charged at the boys with blood-chilling yells!

âRun for it!â yelled Frank.

The boys plunged into the water and plowed back to the boat. As Chet, in the rear, squirmed aboard, Frank gunned the engine and steered out to a safe distance. Back near shore, the natives stood waist-deep in water, still yelling and shaking their weapons.

âWow!â Joe gulped. âWhat started all that?â

âW-we did!â said Chet, trembling with fright. âWe must have landed right in the middle of the gangâs hideout. Those cannibals are standing guard for âem!â

âCannibals nothing!â said Tony. âIâll bet those are Carib Indians. Isnât that what they call the original inhabitants of these parts?â

âCall âem anything you like,â Chet replied. âTheyâre still heap bad medicine!â

The stout boy was all for returning to San Juan. But the other three managed to persuade him that they should explore further.

With Frank at the helm, they cruised along the western shore of the island. Presently they came to a small cove, which formed a snug little natural harbor. Alongside a pier which jutted out into the water a red motorboat was moored. Back of the shore lay a palatial white villa.

âMust be some millionaireâs vacation home,â Chet remarked. âBut I wouldnât want to be that close to those natives!â

On higher ground back of the estate the boys glimpsed an airstrip with a plane on it much like the Hardysâ craft, except that it was silver in color.

âShould we tie up and look around?â Chet asked.

âNot yet,â said Frank. âLetâs cruise a bit farther first, and get the lay of the land.â

Continuing along the coast, they circled the northern tip of the island. It was covered with pineapple fields, but there was no sign of workers or natives.

âGuess we may as well go back,â Frank remarked.

He reversed course and steered back around the island. As they neared the tiny harbor, a man waved cheerfully from the pier.

âHi, there!â he shouted. âCome on in!â

Frank brought the boat to shore, and they tied up to the dock on the opposite side from the red motorboat. The man who had called to them was a stout and affable-appearing person, wearing an immaculate white suit and puffing on a cigar.

âGlad to see you,â he greeted the boys as they climbed onto the pier. âWe donât often have visitors. Durling Hamiltonâs my name,â he added.

The boys shook hands and introduced themselves. They learned that Hamilton was a retired sportsman, who spent most of his time on the island estate.

âWhat brings you boys out here?â he queried.

âWeâre hunting for a gang of thieves,â Chet blurted before Frank or Joe could stop him.

Hamilton appeared not to notice the awkward silence that followed. âWell, I wish you luck.â He smiled. âGot quite a problem myself. Confounded natives just south of here have made trouble for me ever since I built my home on Calypso Island.â

The Hardys and their friends tried not to look startled at this remark. Casually Frank asked, âDid you say Calypso Island?â

Hamilton nodded. âThatâs what the natives call it. Theyâre descendants of Carib Indians with some mixed blood. They practice voodoo and worship a small flat stoneâSkeleton Rock.â

CHAPTER XVII

Voodoo Vengeance

HERE at last was a real clue! Frank and Joe figured that probably the natives of Calypso Island were being used as a screen by the smugglers. So it was only natural that they should try to drive Durling Hamilton off the island.

âHave the natives been doing anything unusual lately?â Joe asked the sportsman. âI mean, have you noticed mysterious ceremonies?â

Hamilton puffed his cigar for a moment. âWell,â he replied, âI did see a blue speedboat put in on the nativesâ side of the island yesterday.â

âA blue boat!â Tonyâs eyes flashed excitedly.

âThatâs right,â Hamilton went on. âFour men came ashore.â

âDid you get a good look at them?â Frank asked eagerly.

âYes. I watched them through binoculars. About all I can tell you, though, is that one was a tall, heavy-set fellow. They talked with the Indians for a while and then shoved off.â

A tall, heavy-set fellow! The boys exchanged knowing glances. Could he have been Abdul?

Hamilton interrupted their thoughts by inviting the boys up to his villa for lunch. A few minutes later the group was seated in comfortable wicker chairs on the terrace enjoying lemonade, pineapple salad, and sandwiches of cold roast beef.

Aside from his staff of white-jacketed Puerto Ricans, Hamilton appeared to live alone on the estate. âItâs nice to have company,â he told his guests.

Lunch over, their host showed the boys his game room, decorated with huge trophies of marlin, sailfish, and barracuda. Then he suggested a couple of fast sets of tennis, which he refereed, on twin courts near the airstrip. Afterward, all of them cooled off with a refreshing swim in the gentle blue waters of the cove. By this time, it was late in the afternoon.

âYouâve given us a wonderful time, sir,â Frank told Hamilton when the boys had finished dressing. âNow weâd better start back to San Juan.â

âNonsense!â The sportsman paused to bite off the tip of a fresh cigar. âAs I told you, we donât have many visitors out here. Gets mighty lonesome. I want you boys to stay and be my guests as long as you like.â

Chet and Tony, though eager to extend their visit, left the decision to the Hardys. Frank and Joe were excited about the possibility to do more exploring. But, to throw Hamilton off the scent, they deliberately hesitated in accepting the invitation.

âAt least stay overnight,â Hamilton urged. âIf you get bored, you can go back tomorrow morning.â

âWell, if you put it like that, Mr. HamiltonââFrank grinnedââI guess weâll accept your invitation.â

âFine! Wonderful!â their portly host beamed. âIâll cook part of the dinner myself. Iâm quite a chef in my spare time,â he boasted. âIâm counting on some real appetites to do it justice!â

The dinner of rock lobster and red snapper proved to be delicious. Both Frank and Joe took only the snapper, which was broiled to a juicy turn. But Tony and Chet ate liberally of both dishes.

After dinner they strolled out on the terrace under the stars. Chet sank into a deep lounge chair and let his head loll back.

âO-oh,â he groaned. âI mustâve eaten too much.â

âIs that unusual?â Joe needled.

âNo kidding,â Chet replied. âMy stomach feels like lead!â

Tony looked a bit unhappy too. âI donât feel so well myself,â he confessed.

As the boys continued to feel uncomfortable, Durling Hamilton became concerned. âJust sit there and take it easy,â he advised. âIâm sure itâll pass off. Too much excitement for one day, maybe ânot good for digestion!â

Meanwhile, Frank and Joe decided to do some sleuthing around the southern end of the island. Saying that they needed exercise, they excused themselves and wandered off along the smooth, sandy beach.

Darkness had fallen, and a full yellow moon was rising over the water. A cool trade wind wafted through the palm trees.

Suddenly Frank gripped his brotherâs arm. âLook! A campfire!â he pointed.

The flickering orange flames were visible through the dark foliage a short distance back from the beach.

âCome on!â Joe whispered. âLetâs see whatâs up!â

Creeping closer, they pulled aside some branches and saw a group of natives squatting about the fire. The Indians, clad in ragged shirts and trousers, were jabbering excitedly.

âTheyâre sure upset about something,â Joe murmured.

âHamilton said they practice voodoo,â Frank whispered. âMaybe theyâre getting ready for some kind of ceremony.â

As the boys listened they caught several words spoken in Spanish. âSounds more like an argument,â Joe noted.

Presently a skinny brown dog that was curled up near the campfire got to his feet and began to sniff the night air.

âOh, oh!â gulped Joe in a low voice. âLetâs hope he doesnât pick up our scent!â

Slowly the dog began to circle the camp, coming nearer and nearer to the boysâ hiding place. All of a sudden he stiffened and broke into a volley of barks.

The natives stopped talking immediately and grabbed up heavy sticks. The Hardys flattened themselves in the underbrush. Should they lie still, or try to make a break?

The decision was made for them when the Indians strode toward the spot. Encouraged by his masters, the snarling cur charged into the thicket.

Instantly Frank and Joe sprang up and started to run. But before they had gone a dozen paces, the fleet-footed natives overtook them. Several grabbed the boys, while others menaced them with clubs.

âDonât fight!â Frank called to his brother. âMaybe we can convince them weâre friends.â

Trying to appear calm, the boys allowed themselves to be dragged back to the campfire. One of the natives, a youth about their own age, was able to speak a little English.

âMe Fernando,â he told them. âWhat you do here? You come to spy for rich white man?â

âNo,â Frank replied. âWeâre just visitors here on the island. We saw your campfire and wondered what was going on, thatâs all.â

As the boy translated, there was an angry babble from the other natives. Fernando turned back to the Hardys.

âThey say you enemiesâyou work for Senor Hamilton,â he said accusingly. âHim bad man! Our people live here on island always. This our home. Then he comeâtry to drive us away!â

Frank and Joe denied this earnestly. Speaking in simple words, they tried to convince the youth that they wished to be friends and that Durling Hamilton had no designs against the natives. But it was clear from the Indiansâ scowling faces that the words were having no effect.

Finally Joe decided to speak out bluntly. âLook, Fernando,â he asked, âis it true that your people believe in voodoo and worship something called Skeleton Rock?â

The effect of Joeâs question was astounding. At the mention of Skeleton Rock, the natives seemed to go wild. Shouting and babbling in mixed Spanish-Indian dialect, they seized the two boys and hurled them to the ground!

When Joe asked about Skeleton Rock, the natives seemed to go wild

Frank and Joe fought like wildcats but were soon tied hand and foot. Then the natives began to drag them down to the waterâs edge.

âTheyâre going to throw us to the sharks!â Joe gasped to his brother.

âYou two boys bad like Hamilton!â Fernando glared at them. âNow my people take revenge!â

The Hardys turned pale, their hearts hammering with fear as the Indians loaded them into a boat. Again and again, they pleaded to be released, speaking in both Spanish and English.

Finally their words seemed to take effect. There was a lot of babbling among the natives, then one spoke to Fernando.

He translated, âWe let you go. But you must leave the island and never come back!â

âYou have our promise,â Frank assured him fervently. âWeâll go tomorrow.â

As soon as they were untied, the boys hurried off down the beach. Both were baffled by their close brush with death and its relation to Hamilton. Was he more deeply involved than the natives had indicated?

âAnd why did they get so excited just because I mentioned Skeleton Rock?â Joe puzzled.

Frank shook his head in bewilderment. âSearch me, unless the smuggling gang fooled them into thinking that any outsiders are dangerous. Or, maybe âSkeleton Rockâ is a sacred name.â

As they neared Hamiltonâs villa, they saw a lighted cigar glowing in the dark on the front terrace.

âHave an interesting walk?â the sportsman greeted them.

âWe sure did!â Frank said dryly.

A Puerto Rican servant escorted them to a guest room next to Chet and Tonyâs. Chet was moaning in distress when the Hardys went in to see him.

âFeeling any better, Chet?â Joe inquired sympathetically.

âWorse!â the plump boy replied. He was stretched out on the bed like a beached whale, in a pair of flowery pajamas provided by their host.

Tony was not so ill as Chet, but he looked worried. As soon as the servant was out of earshot, he whispered to Frank and Joe:

âListen! I went out on the dock for some fresh air and noticed that Hamiltonâs red boat looked awfully shiny in the moonlight. When I touched it, the red paint came off on my finger!â

The Hardysâ eyes widened with interest. âWas it blue underneath?â Joe asked breathlessly.

âBefore I had a chance to find out, I heard someone behind me and turned around. It was Hamilton!â

CHAPTER XVIII

A Weird Vision

âHAMILTON!â exclaimed Frank. âDo you think he was spying on you?â

Tony shrugged. âIâm not sure. But he was right there watching when I tested the paint.â

The Hardys, having heard what the natives had said about Hamilton, were not surprised. This latest information definitely seemed to put their host under suspicion!

Joe urged that the boys confront Hamilton immediately.

But Frank was more cautious. âHamilton has a whole crew of servants. If theyâre part of the gang, they could do plenty!â

âWhatâs the difference?â Joe said stubbornly. âIf Hamilton is a member of the gang, weâre in danger, anyhow. Maybe he even slipped something into those lobsters Chet and Tony ate!â

Tony gasped. âYou mean weâve been poisoned?â

âNot deadly poison, but something he hoped would make all of us sick enough so we couldnât do any investigation and have to go home.â

Frank was still doubtful. âIn that case, why did he invite us to stay on the island?â

âSo he could keep tabs on us until he had a chance to report to the gang,â Joe suggested.

In the end, Frank agreed to put the question of speaking to Hamilton to a vote. Chet was feeling too sick to care one way or the other, but Tony sided with Joe. So the three boys went off to find Hamilton. But they agreed not to arouse the manâs suspicions if they could avoid it.

The sportsman was still on the terrace, finishing his cigar.

âIs Chet feeling better?â he asked affably.

âNot much,â Frank replied. âBut I donât understand it. Lobster never seemed to bother him before.â

Hamilton grinned. âI think your friend had too much to eat. Lobsterâs very rich.â

Tony, changing the subject, told Durling Hamilton about his boat Napoli II, and of several exciting adventures he had had in her. Then he remarked casually, âBut she needs a new paint job right now. What did you use on your motorboat, Mr. Hamilton? I noticed before that it was freshly painted.â

The sportsman smiled. âNot the whole boat. I had the bow touched up today because of rust spots on it. By the way, Tony, you seem to be feeling better now.â

âYes, thank you.â Casually the boy added, âLucky for me, though, that you came out to the dock before. I felt a little woozy.â

âI was afraid of that,â Hamilton said, giving him an ingratiating smile. âAs host here, itâs my duty to look after my guests, isnât it?â

Hamilton seemed so frank that the boys found it hard to remain suspicious. After chatting a few minutes longer, they said good night and returned to their rooms. Chet was asleep.

In spite of the cool trade winds, both Frank and Joe were unable to fall asleep. Their minds were overactive, and they were alert for any unusual happenings. About two oâclock they were roused from a fitful slumber by a humming motor somewhere in the distance.

âItâs a plane!â Joe whispered.

The boys rushed to the window. As the drone of the engine grew louder, they saw the craft swoop down as if for a landing on the airstrip. Then it pulled up abruptly and circled around. Its green starboard light began blinking.

âA message!â said Frank as the light spelled âOkay H.â

âWhat does that mean?â Joe asked.

âIt could be Hamilton or Hardy,â Frank replied.

As they stood watching, the plane soared off and disappeared into the night. Thoroughly mystified, the two boys went back to bed, full of conjectures, mostly about their own safety. They had just fallen into a light slumber when a shriek from the next room made them sit bolt upright.

âChet!â Frank said. âHe must be worse!â

The Hardys dashed to the next room. Chet was quiet now, but trembling violently. He stood by a window, pointing.

Tony, sleepy-eyed, was already on his feet. ââSmatter, Chet?â he asked.

âA g-g-ghost!â the boy quavered. âI just saw a ghost! 0-o-o-oh, it was horrible!â

âA ghost?â Frank echoed blankly. âGood grief, whatâre you talking about, Chet?â

âItâs true!â he insisted. âMy stomach-ache got so bad I couldnât sleep, so I got up. Then I looked out the window and I saw itâa huge Indian war chief, shining all over with a white glow! Iâd say the thingâs somewhere up at the north end of the island.â

âIf it was that far away, how could you see the thing?â asked Tony.

âBecause he was so big, thatâs why! Iâm telling you, he towered way up over the trees!â Just thinking about the fearsome sight seemed to turn Chetâs face a more sickly hue than ever.

âChetâs really ill,â said Joe. âHeâs delirious!â

âIâm not delirious!â Chet insisted frantically. âGolly, canât you beââ

âOkay, okay, we believe you,â Frank said soothingly. âBut please go back to sleep and try to get some rest.â After a while Chet calmed down and the Hardys returned to their room.

Early the next morning Frank and Joe leaped out of bed.

âLetâs get down to the dock and take a peek at that boat!â said Frank.

Without waiting for breakfast, the boys dashed out of the villa and hurried down to the pier. They ran their fingers over the red motorboat. The paint seemed perfectly dry except for a few tacky brush marks near the bow.

âI guess Hamilton was telling the truth,â said Frank. âThis clears him.â

âThanks!â said a chuckling voice.

Whirling in surprise, the boys saw their host watching them from the inward end of the pier. He strolled out to join them, his ruddy face enveloped in a friendly smile.

âDonât think Iâm spying, now,â he said jovially, âbut I couldnât help notice you test that paint. Youâre real detectives, yes sir! But you can trust old Durling Hamilton!â

Somewhat embarrassed, the Hardys asked about the plane they had seen the previous night.

âOh, that!â Hamilton laughed heartily. âThat was a friend of mineâfellow sportsman, you might sayânamed Steve Henry. He was just passing over on his way from Miami to Puerto Rico, so he stopped off to say hello. Always gives me that old blinker signal whenever he goes by this way.â

Mentally, Frank and Joe had to admit that Hamiltonâs answer seemed reasonable. If his friendâs name was Henry, that would explain the initial H at the end of the message.

Excusing themselves, the Hardys went back to the house to see how Chet and Tony were feeling. Tony was much better, but, to their dismay, they found Chet so weak he could hardly move.

âHeâs really in bad shape,â Tony whispered.

Their stout chum lay almost motionless on the bed, moaning weakly from time to time.

âWeâd better get a doctor, pronto!â Frank decided. âYou stay here with Chet, Tony.â

He and Joe hurried downstairs and reported their friendâs condition to Hamilton. âWe want a doctor right away,â Joe urged.

Luckily the estate owner had a radiotelephone hookup to San Juan. He put through a call to the mainland immediately, then turned to the boys.

âThereâs a break!â he announced. âThis doctor friend of mine I just called is taking the day off. Heâs fishing in his favorite spot about five miles from here. With luck, you can get back here in no time!â

He suggested the boys take his red motorboat, which was faster than their own. Frank and Joe gladly accepted and he sent word to have it fueled and readied for the trip.

âWatch out for sharks!â Hamilton warned when the Hardys prepared to shove off. âThese waters around here are infested with the brutes!â

Beyond the reef, the sea turned choppy as a spanking breeze whipped the water into white-caps. Frank and Joe headed south toward Puerto Rico, following their hostâs directions.

Several times they saw the fins of sharks knifing past. When their craft reached the fishing spot Hamilton had described, the doctorâs boat was nowhere in sight.

Joe scanned the horizon anxiously. âDo you suppose Hamilton lied to us?â he muttered.

âJust what I was wondering,â Frank replied. Suddenly he gave a cry of alarm. âJoe! The boatâs leaking!â

A steady stream of water was gushing in from the motor compartment!

Hastily the boys whipped off their shirts and Joe crawled into the compartment with them to plug the leak. When he emerged a moment later, half-soaked and oil-smeared, his face was taut.

âThereâs a big round hole in the hull!â he reported. âLooks as if it was partly cut out with a saw, and sea pressure did the rest!â

âHamilton!â gasped Frank.

âSure looks that way. No wonder he was so eager to have us take this boat!â

There was no time to debate the matter further. They took off their slacks and stuffed them in the hole. But already there was too much water in the boat for them to do any good. To make matters worse, the engine suddenly stopped.

âMaybe thereâs a pump in the locker,â Frank suggested hopefully. He opened the seat to look, then gave a startled cry as he dragged out a red, green, and white pennant.

It was the foreign flag, with a black skeleton added in the lower right-hand corner!

âJust like the one we found in Hugoâs trailer!â exclaimed Joe. âSay, what is Hamiltonâs tie-up with that fortuneteller?â

Frank did not reply. The plugs in the hull suddenly gave way and more water gushed into the boat. Desperately the boys groped in the locker. There were three life jackets, but no pump.

Just then the drone of an airplane drew their attention. Waving wildly, they tried to attract the pilot. Once he dipped and the boys were sure he saw them. But the silver-colored plane went on.

âIâll bet that was Hamilton!â said Frank, clenching his teeth grimly.

âYes,â Joe stormed helplessly. âEverything those natives said about him was right! And he came out here to watch us battle the sharks!â

CHAPTER XIX

Skeleton Rock

âAT LEAST we have knives. Thatâll be some protection against the sharks,â Joe said grimly. âIf any of them want a bite out of me theyâll have to fight for it!â

âRight!â Frank pulled out two of the life jackets and handed one to Joe.

They put them on. Then, arming themselves with their pocketknives, the two boys waited tensely. By this time, the water in the boat was up to their knees.

The boys had been so busy watching the water that they had not noticed a plane approaching the area.

âHamilton again, I suppose,â Frank said angrily as he looked up.

Suddenly Joe gave a happy shout. âItâs our plane!â

The boys hardly dared believe their eyes.

âDo you suppose Dad and Jack are aboard?â Joe asked hopefully. âAnd theyâve come to rescue us?â

Frank and Joe waved their arms frantically, yelling as loudly as they could. The plane circled and swooped in low. Jack Wayne was at the controls.

âYippee!â shouted Joe.

The pilot waved back to the boys reassuringly. Mr. Hardy was not in the plane. A moment later the cabin door opened and an inflated life raft tumbled down toward the water.

It landed with a splash several yards away from the boat, but Frank was overboard in a moment to swim to it. He climbed inside, then picked up Joe.

As soon as the boys were safely afloat, Jack dipped his wings, then began to circle the area.

âToo bad he couldnât haul us into the plane,â Joe remarked.

A half hour of anxious waiting followed. Sharks bobbed up repeatedly, close to the raft. Finally a government patrol boat appeared and Jack flew off as soon as the Hardys were helped to the deck of the rescue craft.

âLucky youâre not minus a few toes,â declared the captain with grim humor.

âHowâd you find us?â Joe asked.

âJack Wayne radioed an SOS,â the captain replied. âBetter go below, fellows, and get some hot soup. Weâll have you back at San Juan before you dry off! â

Jack was waiting to greet them there at the dock. âMan, am I glad to see you two!â he exclaimed.

âNot half as glad as we were to see you!â Joe quipped as they shook hands. âDid you know it was Frank and me stranded on the water?â

âNo. I saw that the boat was not moving and decided to take a closer look. What happened?â

Frank described their visit to Calypso Island and his suspicions about Hamilton. Jack flushed with anger. âThe skunk!â he cried out. But a moment later he said, âI just had another thought. Maybe one of those natives who hates Hamilton put the hole in his boat.â

âThatâs right,â Joe agreed. âIt seems as if every time we suspect that man thereâs a sound reason to excuse him.â

But Frank was not so charitable. âIâm sure Hamilton was in that first plane which wouldnât give us any help. Well, Jack, whatâs the news from Dad? Where is he now?â

Jackâs face became grave. âIâm worried about him,â he replied. âAfter we took off from here, I flew your father to Centro, Tropicale. He said that if he didnât show up at the airport by twelve oâclock last night, I should go get you boys and try to find him. Well, he didnât show up!â

The news sent a shock of alarm through the boys. Centro was the spot where they had tangled in the gunfight between police and rebels! Could the gang have sought revenge on their father?

âWe ought to fly to Tropicale as soon as possible,â Joe urged.

âAnd we must get help to Chet,â Frank reminded him. âLetâs stop at a doctorâs on the way to the airport and talk to him.â

A taxi driver they consulted took them to the office of Dr. Roberto Cortez, just a few blocks from the waterfront. After hearing their story, the physician reassured the boys.

âFrom the symptoms you describe, I am sure that your friend will be no worse. If he had been given a harsh poison, he would have been in great pain last evening. But Iâll write you a prescription which should ease the young manâs difficulties.â

Greatly relieved, the boys thanked Dr. Cortez and hurried off to the nearest drugstore. While waiting for the prescription to be filled, they discussed what to do.

âWe can fly to Calypso Island, give Chet the medicine, and make arrangements for the rented boat to be returned to its owner. Then all of us can go on to Tropicale,â Frank suggested.

âGood idea,â Joe agreed.

When they reached the airport, Jack Wayne refueled the Hardy plane for take-off. But as he started to warm up the engine, it gave a sputter and died. The pilot could not restart it.

Wearily Jack climbed out and went to work on the defective engine. âPlugs arenât firing,â he announced after a brief inspection.

Impatient and worried, the Hardys stood by while Jack traced the trouble to a faulty magneto. Then came another long delay while he went off to hunt for a replacement.

It was late afternoon before the ship was finally ready for take-off. To the Hardysâ relief, the engine purred smoothly as the plane soared off toward Calypso Island.

âWhat about Hamilton?â Joe asked Frank. âYou suppose heâll give us any trouble?â

Frank shrugged. âNo telling. I have a feeling that man is very slick.â

Both boys took brief turns at the controls, and Toe brought the plane down on Hamiltonâs airstrip for a perfect landing.

The estate owner came out to greet them. âWelcome back!â He smiled. âI see you found a faster method for the return trip.â

âWe had to,â Frank said curtly, introducing Jack. âYour boat sank.â

âWhat!â Hamilton appeared genuinely shocked when the boys told him about the hole in the speedboatâs hull.

âSabotage!â he stormed. âThose confounded Carib Indians must have done it!â

For several minutes he ranted angrily against the natives. The sportsman seemed so genuinely upset that Joe glanced at Frank as if to say, âMaybe Hamilton is innocent after all.â

âHowâs Chet?â Frank asked, interrupting the sportsman. âWe brought him some medicine.â

âI guess he wonât need it,â Hamilton replied with a cheery grin. âIn fact, he and Tony were feeling so much better, they decided to go off and do a little spying on the Indians.â

âWhy?â Frank asked.

âProfessional jealousy, Iâd guess.â Hamilton chuckled. âYour chubby friend figured the two of them might solve a mystery about the natives before you boys got back. Well, letâs go up to the house and get some supper.â

The Hardys were puzzled and uncertain what to do. Could they trust the estate ownerâs story and fly on to Tropicale? But, talking it over privately at the villa, they decided it was too risky to leave until they knew for certain that their friends were safe.

After a tasty supper, Frank asked, âMr. Hamilton, donât you think Chet and Tony should be back by this time?â

âPerhaps so, but I shouldnât worry about them.â

Frank and Joe could not accept Hamiltonâs suggestion. They had to find out where their friends were. Excusing themselves, they set out with Jack Wayne for the southern end of the island.

They made a point of avoiding the open beach as they pushed their way through the palm groves and underbrush. It was dark now, but the rising moon shed enough light for them to see where they were going.

Soon the boys sighted the glimmering windows of a cluster of native shacks. Natives were milling about outside, jabbering excitedly.

âSomethingâs up,â Jack observed. âI wonder if Chet and Tony are being held prisoner.â

As the pilot started forward, Frank grabbed his arm to stop him. âJoe and I have had one set-to with these Indians,â he whispered. âLetâs keep out of sight. We promised them weâd leave the island for good today.â

Staying in the shadows, the three circled the village. Suddenly Joe caught sight of Fernando. By hissing, he managed to attract the youthâs attention.

âWhy have you come back?â Fernando exclaimed worriedly as he joined them. âYou are in terrible danger here if my people find you!â

âWeâll go quickly if youâll help us,â Frank promised. âWe only came back to find our two friends.â

âYour two friends?â The boy looked puzzled.

Frank and Joe explained that their friends had come to call on the Indians. Fernando denied that he or his people had seen them.

The Hardys had fresh cause for worry! Where were Chet and Tony? Was Hamilton making up the story of their whereabouts?

Before leaving, Joe asked one more question. âTell me, Fernando, why did your people get so angry when I asked about Skeleton Rock?â

The young Carib shuddered. âIt is a terrible place, amigo! It is at the other end of the island, but do not go there! Sometimes at night the ghost of an old cacique rises up to devour menâs souls!â

The words were hardly out of Fernandoâs mouth when he turned pale with fright. âLook! Look!â he quavered, pointing northward. âHe is there now!â

As the others turned, a fantastic sight met their eyes. Looming above the distant treetops was the huge figure of an ancient Carib chieftain. The specter glowed with a weird white radiance.

âJumping cacti!â gasped Jack Wayne.

âSo thatâs what Chet saw last night!â added Joe. âNo wonder he couldnât sleep!â

The whole village seethed with turmoil as the natives wailed and quaked in alarm.

âWhat do you make of it?â Jack asked.

âI believe that ghost is a plant by the gang to keep these natives in subjection,â Frank replied.

âYes,â Joe agreed, âand it might have been put into action right now to scare us away.â

âI feel sure,â said Frank, âthat Hamilton is involved in this and in Chet and Tonyâs disappearance. Come on! I think weâd better radio a message for help from our plane to the authorities in Puerto Rico.â

As they reached the airstrip, the three crept toward the plane under cover of darkness. Joe warmed up the radio and started beaming a message to San Juan. Finally the harbor police replied.

âCalling from Calypso Island!â Joe spoke urgently into the mike. âThis is an emergency. Two boysââ

Joe got no further. A gunshot cracked in the distance. Then two more rang out as a horde of armed men rushed toward the airstrip from the villa. Though still out of effective range, they were shooting wildly at the plane. One bullet pinged off a rock near the craft.

âHamiltonâs leading them!â yelled Frank, recognizing the man at the head of the gang. âGet going, Jack!â

The pilot grimly went to work. The starter whined, but nothing else happened.

âMixture control is jammed!â he groaned. Jumping up, he dashed aft for the tool kit.

Frank grabbed the controls and managed to free the mixture control before Jack returned. With a roar, the engine thundered into action!

As the plane taxied down the strip, another volley of shots ripped the night air. A moment later they were aloft and gaining altitude.

âWow!â Joe relaxed weakly in his seat and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. âIf the police heard the shooting, they ought to get here pronto!â Nevertheless, he continued to send out a call for help.

Soaring over the northern end of the island, Frank looked for the caciqueâs ghost, but the figure had disappeared.

A moment later Joe pointed down toward the beach. âLook!â he exclaimed. âThereâs Skeleton Rock!â

Below, in the moonlight, a curious formation was visible in the coral reef. A portion of the rocky shore line protruded above the water in the shape of a crude skeleton. Even the arms and legs were clearly defined.

âWeird!â said Jack. âEnough to make a fellow feel creepy. Now what do we do?â

âWhat Beppo tells you to, amigos!â came a sneering voice from the rear of the cabin.

The Hardys and Jack whirled in dismay. A blond figure had just emerged from the luggage compartment, clutching a pistol. It was the youth who resembled Joe!

âTurn back and land on Calypso!â he ordered.

CHAPTER XX

The Ghostâs Secret

As FRANK hesitated, the blond youth came a step closer. His finger curled menacingly around the trigger of his gun.

âDo as I say,â he snapped, âor youâll be sorry!â

Jack, who was occupying a rear seat, made a lunge for Beppoâs weaponâbut not in time. Swinging his heavy automatic, the gunman caught Jack on the side of the head with a vicious blow. Jack groaned and slumped unconscious!

Joe started toward Jack, but Beppo motioned him to sit beside Frank.

âNow turn this plane around,â the gunman ordered Frank, âbefore you two get the same treatment!â

Frank suddenly realized he was now on his own, with a gun at his back and no flight instructor to guide him! Determinedly he banked the plane and executed a neat turn.

As they winged back toward Hamiltonâs villa, a daring plan occurred to the young pilot. He nudged Joe, to alert him that he would need help.

Suddenly Frank shoved the wheel forward! The plunging dive threw the gunman off-balance. As he lurched backward, Joe grabbed the gun.

âDonât move!â barked Joe.

When the craft leveled off, Frank set the automatic pilot. Joe pulled some rope from a locker, and in moments the two boys had the gunman tightly bound.

âNo wonder this guy looks like me, Frank. His features have been changed with make-up putty!â

Joe now came forward and Frank whispered, âThis time Iâm going to imitate our prisoner.â

As they neared the landing field, Frank turned up the two-way radio, âCalling Hamilton!â Frank rasped, disguising his voice to sound like that of the prisoner. âAll okay.â

The receiver crackled in reply. âGood work, Beppo! Now we have the whole Hardy gang at Skeleton Rock. We can strike at once!â

The brothers were stunned. So the smugglers had their fatherâand also Chet and Tony!

Frank gripped the controls, his brain working at top speed. How could they free Mr. Hardy and their friends? Stalling for time to find an answer to the dilemma, he swooped low over the field, then banked and circled.

Again the radio crackled. âDonât fool around, Beppo! Hurry up and land them!â

âNow what?â gasped Joe in a low voice.

Uncertain of his next move, Frank climbed for altitude and circled once more. The engine began to sputter, and with a final cough, died. Then the plane began bucking and plunging as it suddenly ran into severe turbulence.

Wildly Frank worked with the controls. What to do now? If they landed on the strip, they would both be captured. Hoping against hope that they would not lose altitude too rapidly, Frank glided for the northern end of the island.

âMaybe we can make the beach!â Joe cried.

With luck they could, Frank thought, as he eased the wheel forward. Both boys froze as the plane nosed downward in a normal glide.

At the tip of the island, a broad strip of wet sand lay exposed by the low tide. With a great jolt the plane hit the beach, plowed forward, and upended as its nose wheel gouged into the sand and collapsed. The craft was only a few yards from Skeleton Rock!

âFrank, youâre a whiz!â Joe said shakily.

Frank smiled wanly, then said, âI hope the crack-up didnât make Jack worse.â

At once they gently lifted the pilotâs limp body out on the beach. There was an ugly bruise on Jackâs right temple. Frank chafed his wrists and bathed his face with water. Jack stirred slightly.

âHow is he?â Joe asked anxiously.

âBreathing okay. He should revive completely in a little while.â

A sudden cry from his brother made Frank snap bolt upright. âLook!â Joe gasped.

From a nearby pit a huge phosphorescent figure was emerging. It was the Indian chieftainâs ghost, glowing weirdly in the moonlight!

âItâs some kind of plastic balloon covered with phosphorescent paint!â Frank exclaimed. âWhat a stunt for scaring the natives!â

âWell, that gang wonât do it any longer!â Joe declared. Taking out his pocketknife, he darted forward and ripped the bag wide open.

There was a rush of escaping air. With a weak, moaning sound, the ghost balloon collapsed sideways in a brightly shining heap. As Frank watched it sink beside the pit, he cried out excitedly, âJoe. Thereâs a trap door in that pit! Iâll bet thereâs something else down there besides the balloon and gas machine.â

âLoot, you mean?â

âPerhaps.â

Together, the boys raised the door. A flight of stone steps led downward into the coral rock.

Frank flicked on his pocket flashlight, and the boys descended cautiously. At the foot of the stairway, the passage opened into an underground room.

Three familiar voices cried out, âFrank! Joe!â

The Hardys stared in astonishment. Before them, trussed up, were Mr. Hardy, Chet, and Tony!

âThank goodness you came! We must get out of here before those killers seal us up for good!â

Quickly Frank and Joe untied them, telling of their own narrow escape. The group rushed up the stone steps. They had just reached the beach when Hamilton and his attackers swarmed into view through the shrubbery.

âWeâre outnumbered three to one!â Tony cried in dismay.

Mr. Hardy suggested that if they could subdue Hamilton, the suspected leader, perhaps the others would give up. As the smugglers closed in on them, he maneuvered his way toward Hamilton, who had stepped to the side.

Hamilton was ready. He was about to strike the private detective with a heavy stone, when Chet came to the rescue. Throwing his voice, he yelled, âLook behind you, Hamilton!â

The gang leader whirled in surprise, expecting an attack. Fenton Hardy acted instantly. He delivered a punch that knocked Hamilton backward and sent his weapon flying through the air.

Meanwhile, the four boys had gone into action. Blows were exchanged right and left as they ripped into the mobsters.

âKeep it up!â Tony shouted excitedly.

But the tide of battle was turning in favor of the gang. Outnumbered, Mr. Hardy and the boys were being battered into defeat.

Then, just as the end seemed near, the fighters heard wild war whoops above the din. Through the darkness swooped a mob of Carib Indians! Fernando was with them.

âFemando! Help usâthe Hardys!â Joe shouted. âWe are fighting your real enemies!â

The natives needed no urging. With clubs and sticks, they beat Hamiltonâs followers into howling panic.

When the battle was over, Frank rushed up to Fernando. âThanks! Muchas gracias, Fernando!â he panted. âYou sure saved the day!â

Among the captives the boys spotted Abdul and Hugo, and pointed them out to their father. Then they plied Mr. Hardy with questions as to what had happened to him in Tropicale.

The detective smiled. âNow the story can be told. I was working on a case involving subversives in the United States friendly to a gang of rebels in Tropicale who hoped to take over the government. Those in our country have been rounded up with the exception of a few, like Abdul and Hugo, who escaped down here.

âUnfortunately, in uncovering a hideout in Tropicale, I was captured. Two men flew me here last night,â he explained, âbut apparently something went wrong. The plane couldnât land.â

Joe snapped his fingers. âNo wonder! Frank and I showed up here and Hamilton didnât want us to see you. Matter of fact, Frank and I read the planeâs signalââOkay H.â That must have been to let Hamilton know theyâd captured you!â

The detective nodded. âThe men finally brought me over this morning. I guess you two had left by that time.â

âThatâs right,â said Chet. âThen they tied Tony and me up and brought us to the dungeon. They planned to kill all of us and blame it on the Caribs. Iâll say one thing, though,â he added, chuckling. âMade me so mad I forgot all about my stomach-ache!â

At that moment powerful searchlights began to sweep the island.

âPatrol ships!â Joe exclaimed. âMust be the police arriving from San Juan!â

Soon a boatload of armed bluejackets and officers hit the beach. After Mr. Hardy had given a brief account of the affair, the officers escorted the prisoners, including Beppo, back to Hamiltonâs villa. By this time, Jack Wayne had revived and was assisted there by the boys.

At the house Captain Valdes of the San Juan police held an official hearing. Mr. Hardy cleared up the mystery.

âIt was not until today that I learned who was masterminding a diabolical plot to overthrow the government of Tropicale. This man Hamilton is the one,â the detective explained. âHe organized an air-freight theft ring to seize various articles useful to his cause. Among these were isotopes to build an atomic weapon. Once completed, this would have given him and his gang absolute power over Tropicale. On the side, the men smuggled diamonds in dollsâ or dummiesâ heads to help finance their crazy venture.â

âIt wasnât so crazy!â snarled the handcuffed Hamilton. âWe might have pulled it off if that important Hugo dummy hadnât been sent to the very town where the Hardys live. Those nosy detectives and their pals upset our plans!â

âTony and me?â Chetâs eyes widened and his face glowed with pride.

âYes, indeed,â Captain Valdes praised them. âYou all helped preserve peace in the Caribbean!â

âBut how does the stolen drug, Variotrycin, come into the picture?â Frank asked his father. âAnd what about the brief case we found in the public locker in Eastern City? It was filled with the drug! In fact, after the man, who posed as Shanley, snatched it from us, we never saw him or the brief case again.â

âThe gang thought that stealing and selling the new drug would supplement their income in addition to the diamonds,â Mr. Hardy explained. âHowever, not enough of it was being manufactured to make it profitable. After the man impersonating Shanley snatched the brief case from you boys, he suddenly got greedy. He was arrested in New York City trying to sell the stuff.â

Numerous other facts were brought out. âSkeleton Rockâ was the gangâs identification, and they had used the same device on their revolutionary pirate flag. The pineapple tattoos helped the members recognize one another.

âSo thatâs why the cook at El Calypso Caliente got so upset when he spotted my tattoo!â said Joe. âHe thought for a moment I was Beppo.â

Mr. Hardy nodded. âThe restaurant was a regular meeting place for the gang.â

Abdul, Hugo, and many of Hamiltonâs island retainers now talked freely in the hope of getting light sentences. They revealed that a new red motorboat had been switched overnight for the blue one which Hamilton had tried to disguise with a fresh coat of paint. They also admitted that some mild poison had been put in the lobsters served at dinner.

âToo bad we didnât make the dose twice as strong,â growled Hamilton.

The mysterious âdoctor friendâ was just a ruse to send Frank and Joe to their doom. Abdul also admitted that he lived in the old pink stucco house in San Juan, and that the basket device had been used to pick up loot and messages.

âHow about the Hugo dummy?â Frank asked his father. âWas the Mexican manufacturer involved?â

âNo,â his father replied. âHamiltonâs gang put the purple turbans on the dummies, inserted the glass eyes, and acted as distributors. Radley discovered this and notified me shortly after I saw you boys last.â

Frank snapped his fingers. âI get it now! As distributors, Hamilton and his gang substituted the old-fashioned glass eyes for the original plastic ones in the Hugos and concealed the contraband and messages inside.â

âThe changed instruction sheet, too!â Joe chimed in.

âRight!â Mr. Hardy said. âThat code in Spanish was an extra precaution!â The detective added that the Hugos were shipped to bona fide customers in the United States, such as Mr. Biwen in Bayport. âGang members were on hand,â he said, âto purchase the purple-turbaned Hugos immediately and get the diamonds.â

âThen why,â Chet burst in, âdid those hoodlums snatch the red-turbaned dummy at Mr. Bivvenâs place?â

Hearing this, Hamilton snapped, âBiwen, the old goat, fouled up the whole plan. He said that was his only Hugo, so my men figured I must have made a mistake in the color of the turban.â

At this point, a seaman from one of the patrol boats brought a radio message to Mr. Hardy. It was a report from the Tropicale police, saying they had rounded up the remaining gang members from information relayed by Fenton Hardy before he was captured.

âWell, boys, I guess we can now get a good nightâs sleep!â The detective sighed.

âBelieve me, you have earned it, senores!â Captain Valdes congratulated them. âI give you permission to use the villa. Mr. Hamilton wonât need it tonight!â

In a few days the Hardysâ damaged plane was repaired, and they took off for San Juan. Jack Wayne urged Frank and Joe to demonstrate their flying skill to their father.

After watching them, the detective grinned. âLooks as if I have a couple of budding air aces in the family!â

His grin grew wider as Joe made a beautiful landing. A crowd of officials and newsmen were waiting on the field to greet the passengers.

An envoy of the Tropicale Government stepped forward and pinned a medal on the private investigator. âIn token of your distinguished efforts for the cause of peace and justice!â He beamed.

âThank you,â Mr. Hardy said, smiling, âbut these boys here deserve it more than I do!â

âWe know the part your sons played,â said an airline official. âAs a reward, my company is presenting them with this DMEâDistance Measuring Equipment unit for the Hardysâ private plane!â

âAnd for their friend Tony,â said the Tropicale official, âwe have a special boat trip in Caribbean waters.â

With a broad smile Tony accepted, unaware of the next exciting role he would play in helping the Hardy Boys solve The Mystery at Devilâs Paw.

One more gift was presented and unwrappedâa whole family of ventriloquist dummies for Chet!

âWithout diamonds, however,â the official said, laughing.

Excitedly Chet seized one of the dummies and put on an impromptu act.

âWho cares about diamonds!â the largest one squawked. âWhen do we eat?â