The Secret of Skull Mountain
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
CHAPTER I - A Mysterious Skull
CHAPTER II - Strange Laughter
CHAPTER III - Chet Joins Up
CHAPTER IV - Sailor Hawkins
CHAPTER V - The Missing Scientist
CHAPTER VI - Two Masked Men
CHAPTER VII - A Hatchet Job
CHAPTER VIII - A Disappearance
CHAPTER IX - Tiger Trouble
CHAPTER X - The Deserted Boat
CHAPTER XI - Cast Adrift
CHAPTER XII - Decoy Hunt
CHAPTER XIII - Dangerous Cargo
CHAPTER XIV - A Mountain Puzzle
CHAPTER XV - The Escaping Stream
CHAPTER XVI - A Night Light
CHAPTER XVII - The Rear Room
CHAPTER XVIII - The Secret Tunnel
CHAPTER XIX - A Surprising Explanation
CHAPTER XX - Smoked Out
THE SECRET OF SKULL MOUNTAIN
THERE is a crisis in Bayport! Soon the city will be without water! Every night water strangely disappears from the new reservoir near Skull Mountain. Frank and Joe Hardy join forces with a team of skilled engineers to solve the baffling mystery.
When the boys arrive at the foot of the mountain, they are met by a human skull rolling down the slope—a chilling warning from a weird hermit. Violence, too, stalks the mountain, where a gang controlled by a powerful crime syndicate hatches a vicious plot. While trying to uncover the gang’s sinister motive, Frank and Joe aid their detective father in his search for a missing scientist.
By a clever experiment, the boys discover a clue to the puzzle of the vanishing water. Suspense mounts when they explore an ancient subterranean river channel, deep inside Skull Mountain. In a thrilling climax the famous young detectives solve their own mystery as well as Mr. Hardy’s case.
“Watch out!” Joe yelled. “He’s going to throw it!”
Copyright © 1975, 1966.1948, 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 BOYS® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.
eISBN : 978-1-101-07641-5
2008 Printing
http://us.penguingroup.com
CHAPTER I
A Mysterious Skull
“WHAT do you mean, we can’t go swimming?” asked Joe Hardy.
“Not in the Bayport pool,” said Frank, who was at the wheel of their convertible.
“You’re kidding!”
“No, I’m not,” replied the tall, dark-haired boy. “There isn’t enough water. The shortage is getting serious.”
Joe, blond and seventeen, and a year younger than Frank, glanced at his watch and flipped the radio switch. It was news time. The suave voice of the broadcaster came in clearly.
“City officials announced today that unless a way is found to fill Tarnack Reservoir, the people of Bayport may soon be without water. Thousands of gallons flow in daily from the river, but overnight the water vanishes.”
“That’s strange,” said Joe. “Why should it—” He broke off as the announcer went on:
“Robert Carpenter, a local engineer, has been employed by the builders of the dam to find out why the reservoir is not filling properly, but so far he has failed to provide a solution—”
“Carpenter,” Frank mused as he turned down the volume. “He’s a fine engineer. Must be a tough problem if he can’t find the answer.”
“Yes,” Joe agreed. “I’m—Frank! Look out!”
Frank had not noticed the tall young man who had stepped absent-mindedly from the curb. He was reading a newspaper and walking directly into the path of the car!
At Joe’s warning, Frank twisted the wheel and jammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt, but the bumper caught the pedestrian and knocked him down. The boys jumped out and ran to the man.
“Dick Ames!” Joe exclaimed.
“Dick,” Frank asked anxiously, “are you hurt?”
Their friend sat up and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “No,” he replied. Then, recognizing the boys, he gave a weak grin. “Thanks to you!” He took a deep breath. “That was dumb of me to jaywalk while reading. But I was so angry about this reservoir story I forgot to watch where I was going.”
The boys helped the tall, good-looking young man to his feet.
“We’ll give you a lift,” said Frank. “Where you going?”
“To my parking garage.”
Dick got into the convertible between the brothers and Frank drove on, past the curious motorists who had stopped to see the accident.
“My car’s at the Midtown Garage,” Dick said. “You can drop me there.”
“You okay?” Joe asked, noting his pale face.
“I’m okay—just sore about this story,” said Dick, slapping the newspaper. “The reporters aren’t giving us a chance!”
“Are you working on the mystery?” Frank asked.
“Yes. I’m Bob Carpenter’s assistant—” Dick broke off and stared at the boys suspiciously. “Who told you it’s a mystery?”
Frank grinned as Joe gave him a sly wink. “It doesn’t take a detective long to figure out that when a reservoir won’t fill, and an engineer with Mr. Carpenter’s reputation can’t find the reason for it, something mysterious is going on,” Frank said.
The Hardy boys’ interest in mysteries was well known in Bayport. Their father, Fenton Hardy, was one of the finest private detectives in the United States. Frank and Joe, although still in high school, had helped him solve many baffling cases. Their most recent one had been the mystery of The Phantom Freighter.
The boys proceeded to question Dick eagerly about the disappearing water.
The engineer frowned. “I can’t figure it. Last week, work was completed on the dam to impound the Tarnack River, and also on the conduit which is to carry the water to Bayport. The entire construction was inspected and passed A-OK.”
“Then why is the water running out?”
“You tell me,” said Dick. “All I know is it’s not a simple leak. There’s something weird about the whole problem.”
“What do you mean?” Frank asked.
Dick cast him an odd glance. “You fellows know Skull Mountain?”
“Just that the dam and reservoir are there,” Frank replied.
“It’s a rugged place,” said Dick, “covered with dark woods. Strange things have been happening there. Spooky, if you ask me.”
“You think somebody’s trying to scare you off?”
“Yes. That’s what makes me feel sure there’s skulduggery connected with the loss of the water. Besides, why does it only disappear at night?”
Silently the boys pondered the problem as Frank threaded the car through downtown traffic. Suddenly Joe noticed that their passenger had become very pale.
“What’s the matter, Dick?”
“I’m sorry, fellows. I guess that bump shook me up a little, after all.”
“You’re coming home with us,” Joe said. “You can lie down, and if that doesn’t cure you,” he added, grinning, “Aunt Gertrude will stuff you to the ears with the best food you’ve ever tasted.”
Supper was on the table when Frank and Joe arrived home with Dick Ames. Both Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude met them at the door, and Frank told what had happened.
Mrs. Hardy was concerned about Dick and wanted him to lie down at once.
But Aunt Gertrude would not hear of it. “Fiddlesticks!” she scoffed. “The boy�
�s just shaken up. There’s nothing wrong with Dick that a plate of sausage and waffles won’t fix!”
Dick surprised them by agreeing. The fresh air during the drive to the house had made him feel better and the aroma of frying sausage was giving him a ravenous appetite.
Aunt Gertrude’s smile was so triumphant that Frank and Joe could not help laughing. Their aunt looked at them suspiciously.
“What are you two chortling about?” she demanded. “Hurry up and set a place for Dick!”
Aunt Gertrude lived at the home of her brother, Fenton Hardy. Despite her tart manner, she was very fond of Frank and Joe, and proud of their success as amateur sleuths.
As the three boys sat down to large servings of sausage and waffles, they learned that Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude already knew about the threatened water shortage. A radio announcer had described the situation and urged listeners to limit their use of water.
“Humph!” Aunt Gertrude sniffed. “What does he think we’ve been doing all these years?” She speared another piece of sausage with her fork. “The authorities of this city should be ashamed of themselves. Pass the syrup, Frank. Why, even five years ago Bayport didn’t have enough water. Joe, don’t eat so fast. The whole city might burn down any time. And what’s more, how will we cook without water?” she finished.
“Wow!” Frank laughed. “We’ll have to do something.” He looked across the table at their guest. “Dick, think Mr. Carpenter could use a couple of sleuths to help him find out why the reservoir won’t fill?” He glanced hopefully at Joe.
Dick paused. “He might at that,” he said slowly. “Maybe you can find out what the trouble is on Skull Mountain. How soon could you come?”
“Right away!” the boys chorused.
“Swell!” Dick said. “I must get back to the camp this evening. We’ll drive out there together now. It’s about twenty miles. Plan to stay over.”
“You can leave your car at the garage,” said Frank. “We’ll take ours.”
“None of you are going anywhere until you’ve had your dessert,” Aunt Gertrude put in firmly. “Apple cake.”
“Why, Aunty!” Joe grinned and winked at Frank. “The biggest mystery in the world couldn’t tear us away until we’d eaten your apple cake!”
An hour later Frank was driving along the highway toward Skull Mountain, with Joe and Dick beside him. Packed in the trunk were pup tents and cots, hiking clothes and other camping equipment, as well as a basket of sandwiches and cake Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude had prepared. Joe was wearing a pair of powerful field glasses on a lanyard around his neck.
“You two must be real chow-hounds,” Dick said with a grin. “Bob and I have food at camp. You didn’t need to bring your own.”
Frank laughed. “You don’t know Aunt Gertrude. She wouldn’t have let us out of the house without that basket.”
After a while they saw a cluster of low mountains in the distance. To reach them, Frank turned off the highway onto a narrow dirt road. On their right loomed Skull Mountain.
Joe gave a low whistle. “It looks spooky all right!”
The mountain was a high, dark, forbidding mass. Although it was thickly covered with trees, the slope just above the road was scarred by stretches of jagged rock and huge boulders. Few people in the area ever undertook the hazardous climb to the summit.
Suddenly Joe gripped Frank’s arm. “Look!” he cried out. “A fire! It might be a forest fire!”
Frank braked the car as Joe whipped the field glasses from their case. The boys and Dick Ames piled out of the car and Joe trained the binoculars on the mountaintop. A thin column of smoke rose from the trees which obscured the crest of the hill, then drifted across the valley.
“It’s not a forest fire,” said Dick. “We’ve seen it before.”
“What is it then?” Frank asked. “Somebody living up there?”
“I don’t know and neither does Bob Carpenter!” Dick answered. “We have a hunch the smoke is connected somehow to the trouble at the reservoir.”
Joe started toward the slope. “Come on! Let’s look for that fire now!”
“Hold it,” said Dick. “I know a trail we can use. We’ll make better time.”
The boys hurried down the road in the direction they had come, keeping an eye on the curling smoke. The path Dick showed them led up the mountain through the low brush toward masses of boulders near the top.
They climbed rapidly, glancing often at the summit.
As suddenly as it had arisen, the smoke vanished. “Now you see it, now you don’t!” ex claimed Joe.
“Let me have a look,” Frank suggested. He focused the field glasses on the spot where they had seen the smoke. “Nothing in sight now.”
Frank turned slowly, examining the mountainside. Suddenly, from behind a boulder, appeared one of the strangest-looking figures he had ever seen. The man was gaunt-faced, with fierce-looking eyes, long shaggy hair, and a thick beard. Frank uttered a low exclamation.
“What’s wrong?” Joe demanded.
“Look at that funny guy up there,” Frank said, handing his brother the glasses.
Joe trained the binoculars on the boulder Frank indicated, but saw no sign of the bearded man. Disappointed, he gave the glasses to Dick, but the young engineer could not detect him either.
“What did he look like, Frank?” Dick asked as they turned back toward the car.
Frank described the man, but the engineer shook his head and declared that although he had met some odd people on Skull Mountain, none of them matched the description.
As the three started down the hill, a rounded white object rolled past them and lodged against a bush.
“A skull!” Joe exclaimed. As he picked it up, the trio heard an ominous rumbling. They faced about swiftly.
Hurtling down the slope was a huge boulder!
“Look out!” Frank shouted, and they leaped aside.
Crack! The boulder struck another and dislodged a mass of loose rock.
A rain of rocks and brush and boulders came roaring down around them!
“A landslide!” Joe yelled.
CHAPTER II
Strange Laughter
“RUN!” Frank shouted.
Joe, Frank, and Dick Ames scrambled to get out of the path of the thundering mass of rocks. Minutes later the landslide roared into silence below and dust filled the air.
Coughing, Joe got to his feet. “Frank-Dick!” he called and was relieved to hear answering voices.
The three met where the trail had been, now a wide, raw strip of earth, scoured clean of rocks and brush.
“Whew!” Joe exclaimed. “That was close.” He was so shaken he did not notice that he was still clutching the skull.
“That’s the second time today my life’s been in danger,” Dick said. “Must be the season for accidents.”
Frank shook his head angrily. “That was no accident, Dick. I’m pretty sure that our man of the mountain caused the landslide. The first big boulder looked like the one he had been hiding behind.”
Joe’s lips tightened. “I’m going after that guy!”
“Wait, Joe!” Frank said. “It’s no use. Soon it’ll be dark. We’d better push on to camp.”
Joe looked down at the skull in his hand. “I wonder if our mountain man rolled this down, too.”
Dick looked grim. “That’s not the first one I’ve seen around here, and I’ll bet it’s not the last.”
Joe grinned. “Well, Bony doesn’t look much like a good-luck charm, but why don’t we appoint him mascot for our new mystery?”
When the boys reached the car, they propped the skull on the dashboard and set out for the camp. After they had traveled another mile, Dick showed Frank a clearing where he could park.
“We’ll have to hike from here,” the engineer explained.
The three shouldered their camping equipment and started up a narrow, winding trail toward the top of the mountain.
For a time, they climbed steadily. Then the path
grew steep and treacherous. Rockslides had blocked it in places, and at several points heavy rains had washed away large chunks of earth.
Finally Joe halted. “It’s too steep!” he said. “I can’t keep my footing unless I unload some of this gear-my pack’s throwing me off balance.”
“We’d better not leave anything here,” Frank pointed out. “We haven’t any equipment to spare.”
“There must be an easier way to reach the reservoir,” said Joe. “How did the dam-builders truck in supplies?”
“They cut a road up the other side of the mountain,” Dick replied, “but it’s not paved. We’ve had so much rain lately, I was afraid your car would stick in the mud.”
“Let’s try this way,” Frank suggested, pointing to a narrow branch of the trail which sloped more gradually.
The alternate path proved to be easier climbing and soon they were standing on a crest overlooking Tarnack Valley.
“There it is!” Dick said, pointing downward. “Our big headache!”
Far below, through the gathering dusk, Frank and Joe could see the reservoir, a shimmering sheet of water behind a towering white concrete dam.
“You don’t need to know much about engineering to know that’s great,” Frank remarked. “It’s super.”
“It must have been a tough job to build,” Joe remarked as they started down toward the dam.
Dick explained that the Tarnack River had flowed over the valley bottom. “Its course had to be diverted before the engineers could construct the reservoir. When the dam was completed, the river was rediverted to its old bed.”
Joe looked down at the dam in admiration. “So the river flows along the way it always has, and at the same time it does a whole new job!”
“It ought to work that way,” Dick said. “We have to find out why it doesn’t. Everything’s set for the water to flow into Bayport. But we can’t release it until we’re sure we can maintain the proper level in the reservoir. So far, the water hasn’t risen high enough.
“Right now, Bayport is being supplied by Upstate Reservoir, a hundred miles north of here. But so many towns have sprung up in this area that Upstate can no longer take care of us. Day by day the amount we get dwindles.”