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  Hardy Boys Mystery Stories®

  by Franklin W. Dixon

  #1: The Tower Treasure

  #2: The House on the Cliff

  #3: The Secret of the Old Mill

  #4: The Missing Chums

  #5: Hunting for Hidden Gold

  #6: The Shore Road Mystery

  #7: The Secret of the Caves

  #8: The Mystery of Cabin Island

  #9: The Great Airport Mystery

  #10: What Happened at Midnight

  #11: While the Clock Ticked

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  #13: The Mark on the Door

  #14: The Hidden Harbor Mystery

  #15: The Sinister Signpost

  #16: A Figure in Hiding

  #17: The Secret Warning

  #18: The Twisted Claw

  #19: The Disappearing Floor

  #20: The Mystery of the Flying Express

  #21: The Clue of the Broken Blade

  #22: The Flickering Torch Mystery

  #23: The Melted Coins

  #24: The Short-Wave Mystery

  #25: The Secret Panel

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  #27: The Secret of Skull Mountain

  #28: The Sign of the Crooked Arrow

  #29: The Secret of the Lost Tunnel

  #30: The Wailing Siren Mystery

  #31: The Secret of Wildcat Swamp

  #32: The Crisscross Shadow

  #33: The Yellow Feather Mystery

  #34: The Hooded Hawk Mystery

  #35: The Clue in the Embers

  #36: The Secret of Pirates’ Hill

  #37: The Ghost at Skeleton Rock

  #38: The Mystery at Devil’s Paw

  #39: The Mystery of the Chinese Junk

  #40: Mystery of the Desert Giant

  #41: The Clue of the Screeching Owl

  #42: The Viking Symbol Mystery

  #43: The Mystery of the Aztec Warrior

  #44: The Haunted Fort

  #45: The Mystery of the Spiral Bridge

  #46: The Secret Agent on Flight 101

  #47: Mystery of the Whale Tattoo

  #48: The Arctic Patrol Mystery

  #49: The Bombay Boomerang

  #50: Danger on Vampire Trail

  #51: The Masked Monkey

  #52: The Shattered Helmet

  #53: The Clue of the Hissing Serpent

  #54: The Mysterious Caravan

  #55: The Witchmaster’s Key

  #56: The Jungle Pyramid

  #57: The Firebird Rocket

  #58: The Sting of the Scorpion

  #59: Night of the Werewolf

  #60: Mystery of the Samurai Sword

  #61: The Pentagon Spy

  #62: The Apeman’s Secret

  #63: The Mummy Case

  #64: Mystery of Smugglers Cove

  #65: The Stone Idol

  #66: The Vanishing Thieves

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  MYSTERY AT DEVIL’S PAW

  When Frank and Joe Hardy receive a telegram from Tony Prito in Alaska telling them that his life is in jeopardy, they immediately make plans to fly to Tony’s rescue

  Unknown enemies dog the Hardys and their pal Chet Morton even before they start the 4,000-mile journey. The forces working against them become increasingly menacing in Juneau, where Frank and Joe nearly lose their lives. Who are the vicious assailants? And what are their sinister motives? Trying to find the answers to these puzzling questions lead the Hardys into dangerous sleuthing in the wilderness of Alaska and British Columbia.

  The astounding secret that the young detectives uncover, in the shadow of the forbidding mountain peak Devil’s Paw, winds up one of the most perilous adventures they have ever encountered.

  “Look out below!” Joe cried.

  The Hardy Boys Mystery Stories®

  MYSTERY AT

  DEVIL’S PAW

  BY

  FRANKLIN W. DIXON

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  Publishers • New York

  A member of The Putnam & Grosset Group

  Copyright © 1973, 1959 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.

  THE HARDY BOYS® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 73-2184 ISBN: 978-1-101-65728-7

  CONTENTS

  I HIGHWAY ATTACK

  II DECOY

  III WATERFRONT SEARCH

  IV CHEECHAKO TROUBLE

  V A STRANGE KNAPSACK

  VI NIGHTMARE!

  VII GLACIER TREK

  VIII SALMON RAID

  IX FLEETFOOT’S NEWS

  X THE SOURDOUGH’S CLUE

  XI A FIERY MISSILE

  XII DINOSAUR DETECTIVE

  XIII A SAVAGE ORDEAL

  XIV A SUSPICIOUS CAMPSITE

  XV THE SINGING WILDERNESS

  XVI AN EERIE SIGHT

  XVII BURIED TREASURE

  XVIII THE TOTEM’S SECRET

  XIX ENMESHED

  XX AERIAL ROUNDUP

  MYSTERY AT

  DEVIL’S PAW

  CHAPTER I

  Highway Attack

  “TELEGRAM for Frank and Joe Hardy!”

  The messenger gave an envelope to the seventeen-year-old, blond-haired boy who answered the door at the Hardys’ home in Bayport. Joe signed for it and hurried into the living room.

  “Who’s it from?” Frank Hardy asked excitedly. The dark-haired boy, a year older than Joe, waited patiently while his brother slit the envelope and took out the telegram.

  “It’s from Tony!” Joe exclaimed. “And it sounds urgent!” He read:

  BELIEVE I HAVE STUMBLED ON A WEIRD MYSTERY. MY LIFE MAY BE IN DANGER. TRY TO COME RIGHT AWAY AND BRING CHET MORTON. WHEN YOU ARRIVE JUNEAU ASK FOR TED SEWELL AT SEAPLANE BASE.

  Tony Prito, a good friend of the Hardy boys, had gone to Alaska the week before to take a summer job as stream guard with the Fish and Wildlife Service.

  “He must be in real trouble,” Frank said, frowning. “I’m sure Mom and Dad will let us go.”

  Fenton Hardy, the boys’ father, had been a famous detective in the New York City Police Department. After he left the force and moved to Bayport, the tall, athletic-looking sleuth had gained even more renown when he became a private investigator. Frank and Joe, who had inherited their father’s zeal for bringing criminals to justice, often helped him unravel his complicated cases and had solved several mysteries completely on their own.

  The two boys hurried out to the garden in back of the house, where Mr. and Mrs. Hardy were seated on lawn chairs, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. Gertrude Hardy, the boys’ tall, thin aunt, was serving glasses of iced tea.

  “Dad!” Joe cried excitedly. “May Frank and I go to Alaska?”

  “Just like that?” Fenton Hardy chuckled. “Sit down and tell us what this is all about.”

  “Humph!” put in Aunt Gertrude. “Sounds like another mystery to me. I can always tell the symptoms! You’ll freeze to death in Alaska. Mark my words!”

  “Oh, Aunty,” Joe said. “Alaska isn’t all ice and snow. A few days ago it was eighty degrees in Juneau.”

  “Seems incredible,” Mr. Hardy agreed, “but it’s true. The Alaskan Panhandle has weather much like Washington or Oregon, with plenty of rain.”


  “Then you’ll both get wet and die of pneumonia!” Aunt Gertrude went on.

  The boys suppressed a smile as the conversation about the state continued. Only the far north was frigid, Joe recalled from his social studies. He knew that Alaska was an Aleut Indian name meaning “Great Land.”

  “We can’t leave Tony stranded,” Frank pleaded. He showed his father the telegram.

  Fenton Hardy scanned the message, reflected a moment, then passed it to his wife. “What do you think, Laura?”

  Mrs. Hardy, a slim, pretty woman, read the telegram with a slight frown. “It sounds rather dangerous.”

  “Of course it’s dangerous!” Aunt Gertrude read the telegram over Mrs. Hardy’s shoulder. “Alaska is full of man-killing bears and treacherous glaciers,” she warned. “And besides, I heard a rumor on a newscast last week. A United States rocket was programmed to crash-land in the White Sands Missile Range near El Paso after going up 400,000 feet. Instead, it misfired and dropped in Alaska.”

  “But what’s that got to do with our helping Tony?” Frank asked.

  “It could happen again!” Miss Hardy retorted in a peppery tone.

  “Boy, that would make our trip even more exciting!” Joe said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

  Aunt Gertrude sighed deeply. “Won’t you boys ever take my advice?” she fumed.

  After a moment’s thought, Mrs. Hardy said, “I’ll leave the decision to your father.”

  The detective smiled as Frank asked eagerly, “Could we take your plane, Dad?”

  Under the direction of Jack Wayne, Mr. Hardy’s pilot, both Frank and Joe had become experts at piloting their father’s six-place, single-engine craft.

  “I’m afraid not, son,” Mr. Hardy replied. “I need it myself. Jack is flying me to Miami to wind up an investigation.” Mr. Hardy looked at his sons quizzically. “It will cost quite a bit to fly to Alaska on the regular airlines.”

  “We’ve thought of that, Dad,” Frank said. “Joe and I have saved several hundred dollars from odd jobs. We were putting it aside for an outboard motor.”

  “But Tony comes first!” Joe added stoutly.

  The detective was impressed by his sons’ loyalty to their friend, and said so. “All right, you have the go-ahead from me, boys. I’ll chip in a few more dollars if you need it!”

  “Great, Dad!” Frank pumped his father’s hand, while Joe, seized with enthusiasm, waltzed his mother around until she protested that she was getting dizzy.

  Jubilant, the boys telephoned Chet Morton. Chet, a stocky, good-natured boy, was the Hardys’ friend and classmate at Bayport High.

  “I’ll ask my folks if I can go along, too,” their pal replied after hearing the news.

  “Well, make it snappy,” Frank urged. “We’ll have to get plane reservations right away.”

  Chet promised to let them know his parents’ decision as soon as possible and hung up.

  Twenty minutes later his noisy jalopy chugged up in front of the Hardys’ pleasant, tree-shaded home. The boys ran out to greet him.

  “Can you come on the trip?” Frank asked.

  Chet looked worried. “It’s okay with my folks, but—well, I’m not sure I ought to go.”

  “Why not?” Joe demanded. “If Tony’s in trouble, you want to help him, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but that’s just it—the danger,” Chet replied nervously. “How do I know we won’t get plugged by gold thieves or someone? Last time I took a trip with you fellows, I got tossed in an underground dungeon!”

  Chet was referring to their recent adventure in Puerto Rico, where the Hardy boys had tracked down an international ring of lawbreakers in a case called The Ghost at Skeleton Rock.

  “Stop worrying.” Frank chuckled. “Think of the salmon fishing in Alaska! Can’t you visualize a nice plump Chinook salmon sizzling on the fire?”

  “Mm, boy!” Chet immediately perked up. “Well, okay. We can’t let Tony down!”

  “That’s the spirit,” said Joe. “Let’s phone for plane reservations!”

  The three hurried inside and stood by while Frank dialed the airport ticket office. “Line’s busy,” he announced impatiently.

  After trying for several minutes without success to contact the airport, the Hardys decided to drive there.

  “We can take my jalopy,” Chet said. “It’ll get us out there in a jiffy!”

  “In one piece?” Frank asked, winking at Joe.

  “Hop aboard!” Chet commanded.

  When the trio had squeezed in, he threw the car into gear and started off with a roar.

  Soon they were rolling along the highway toward the airport. When they reached the flight terminal, Frank asked the clerk at the ticket counter for three reservations to Juneau, Alaska.

  “How soon do you want to leave?” the clerk inquired.

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  The clerk shook his head. “Sorry, but we’re booked solid for the next two days as far as Chicago. That’s where you’ll make flight connections.”

  The boys looked at each other in dismay.

  “Will you put us on your list for tomorrow’s flight in case there are any cancellations?” Frank asked.

  “Certainly. But you’ll have to be standing by at flight time. Of course I can’t guarantee accommodations.”

  Frank nodded and gave their names and addresses. Then the boys turned to leave.

  “If we can’t get space in the next twenty-four hours, let’s hop a train or bus,” Joe suggested.

  Frank and Chet both agreed to this. As they walked away from the counter, Joe gave his brother a slight nudge.

  “What’s up?” Frank asked quietly.

  “Take a look at that man next to the water cooler. He’s been listening to everything we said.”

  The stranger, dark-haired and with piercing eyes, seemed to realize that the boys were talking about him. Hastily he walked away and strode out the front door of the terminal.

  “Who is he?” asked Chet.

  “Search me,” Joe replied. “Maybe he was just nosy, but he might have had a reason for eavesdropping on us.”

  They hurried out of the building and looked around, but the man had disappeared. The trio climbed into the jalopy and headed back toward Bayport, with Chet clinging to the wheel like a racing driver.

  “Give it more gas or we’ll be arrested for holding up traffic,” Joe teased.

  Glancing at his rear-view mirror, Chet remarked, “That truck in back of us certainly is highballing.”

  Frank and Joe turned to look. The driver of a large black vehicle was far exceeding the speed limit.

  “Give that cowboy plenty of room to pass,” Frank said.

  “Right.” Chet drove closer to the side of the road, only inches from the edge of a ditch which separated the highway from a strip of wooded land.

  As the truck drew up behind him, he gave the signal to pass. Suddenly he looked to his left and exclaimed, “Hey, stop crowding me!”

  “Look out there!” Joe cried. The truck’s cab was so high that he could not see the driver.

  The next instant the side of the truck brushed Chet’s jalopy. With a sickening scraping sound and the shriek of rubber against pavement, the boy’s car tumbled into the ditch, coming to rest on its side. Seconds later, dazed from the accident, the Hardys crawled clear of the jalopy. The truck was out of sight.

  Chet’s car tumbled into the ditch!

  “Oh, oh, my head,” Joe groaned as he struggled to collect his wits. Chet was stunned and did not move.

  The Hardys eased their friend gently from the car. While they were trying to revive him, several passing motorists stopped to offer assistance.

  “I’ll call the police,” a woman promised. “There’s a gas station not far from here.”

  In a matter of minutes, a State Police car arrived at the scene and two officers got out. Chet was just regaining consciousness.

  “Need an ambulance?” one of the troopers asked.

  �
��N-no, I’m okay,” Chet said woozily. “But I sure feel sore all over!”

  Frank and Joe reported the accident to the officers. “That guy must have a grudge against us. He deliberately forced us into the ditch!” Joe said hotly.

  “It’s possible,” one of the troopers commented. “Did you have a chance to get his license number?”

  “No, sir. It all happened too fast,” Frank replied glumly, but he gave a complete description of the vehicle.

  The troopers made a sketch of the scene of the accident and talked to several of the witnesses, writing down their names and addresses. When they had all the information they needed, one of them said to Chet, “A wrecker will be here soon to tow your car in for repairs.” He wrote down the name of the garage and handed it to Chet.

  “Meanwhile,” he went on, “we’d better take you to a hospital.”

  Even though the boys protested that they felt fine, the officers dropped them off at Bayport Hospital, where a doctor examined them. After bandaging a cut on Chet’s head, he suggested that the Hardys’ friend rest in bed until fully recovered.

  Frank and Joe, miraculously, had only minor bruises.

  Chet was driven to the Morton farm. Then Frank and Joe accompanied the officers to Bayport Police Headquarters. After hearing their story, Chief Collig, an old friend of the Hardys, asked:

  “Any idea who might be responsible?”

  Frank shook his head. “Not unless someone is trying to keep us from going to Alaska.” He explained about Tony Prito’s telegram and the eavesdropper at the airport.

  “Well,” said Chief Collig, “our prowl cars and the State Police will keep looking for that truck.”

  When they arrived home, the Hardys told their father what had happened. Mr. Hardy looked grave. “I’m afraid this proves that you’re up against a nasty enemy,” he commented. “Better not mention the attack to your mother or Aunt Gertrude.”

  Frank and Joe went to bed that night sobered by the thought that they were tackling a dangerous case. And what about Tony? Was he still safe or had he, too, met with some kind of “accident”?

  The next morning Frank and Joe were heartened by a telephone call from Chet Morton, who said that he had recovered completely and would meet them at the airport.