The Great Airport Mystery Read online

  “That’s Ile de la Mer!” Jerry exclaimed. “I’ve seen aerial shots of it that Clint Hill sent to Mr. Allen. It has a particular wedgelike shape which is unmistakable!”

  He eased the nose of the plane down and descended to a lower altitude. Then Jerry aimed at the island and approached it at treetop height. Zooming in over the rocky coast, he pulled the nose of the plane sharply upward and followed the contour of the hills inland.

  “There doesn’t appear to be any level terrain to land on,” he observed.

  “Nothing suitable along the coast?” Frank asked.

  “Much too rocky!” Jerry responded. “We’ll have to make a water landing.”

  The pilot searched the coastline for a cove or inlet that would shelter the plane from the rougher waters of the open sea. Finally he spotted a small cove on the south side of the island.

  Carefully studying the surface conditions, Jerry approached the cove and flared out several feet above the water. He now eased the throttles back and let the hull of the plane settle into the water. Taxiing into the cove, he called for the anchors to be heaved, then shut off the engines.

  “The island looks deserted,” Joe commented.

  “Just the same we had better be careful,” Frank warned. “Members of the gang could be in hiding somewhere.”

  Jerry assured himself that the aircraft was secured firmly, then he inflated a large rubber raft to take the group to shore.

  “I’m sure I can find the old campsite of the exploratory team,” Jerry said. “Mr. Allen described it to me in detail.”

  The Hardys, Chet, Kurt Lerner, and Bill Vogel followed the pilot through the thick trees and brush. Luckily it was not long before the group broke out into a clearing. There they found a small wooden shack, various pieces of machinery, and a number of 55-gallon drums marked “Aviation Gasoline.”

  Chet and Jerry examined the fuel supply, while the Hardys, accompanied by Bill and Kurt, went into the shack. They found it to be in good condition, and cans of food were stored on shelves along one wall.

  “By the looks of things here,” Frank observed, “I’d say this place has been occupied recently.”

  The boys scrutinized the interior closely for clues to the occupant but saw nothing unusual. Then Joe noticed something white sticking out behind a row of cans on the top shelf. He reached up and pulled down two large folded sheets of paper. As he unfolded them, his eyes widened with excitement.

  “Frank!” he exclaimed. “Take a look at this!”

  Joe pointed to his discovery. “Planning charts for aerial navigation! And here are course lines drawn on them!”

  Frank dashed outside to summon Jerry and Chet. The pilot examined the charts with avid interest.

  “The course lines start at the exact latitude and longitude of this island,” Jerry declared.

  He traced the line with his finger. It ran off the first chart, and continued on the second. The course led back into the United States to the approximate location of the camouflaged cave the Hardys had discovered. From there, it went to a point in a sparsely settled region of Montana.

  “How do you figure this mystery?” Jerry asked.

  Frank answered. “The gang must have been operating between the cave and this island. After we discovered the cave and things got hot for them, they decided to establish a new hideout in Montana.”

  “Let’s go there!” Joe exclaimed.

  Even Chet was enthusiastic about the idea. “Maybe I’ll still get a chance to play ghost!”

  “Can the plane make it to Montana nonstop?” Joe questioned.

  “With full fuel tanks, and favorable winds, we can make it at least most of the way,” the pilot replied. “We may have to stop once to refuel.”

  Suddenly they all became aware that a strong wind was building up. Jerry ran out of the shack and scanned the sky. A dark, threatening layer of clouds was moving toward the island.

  “That storm center I told you about!” he shouted to the others. “It has started moving—and it’s coming right across this place!”

  The storm now seemed to be approaching with increasing speed. The winds grew stronger, and intermittent droplets of rain began to pelt the area.

  “Quick!” Jerry ordered. “Let’s get back to the plane! Those anchors won’t hold in a big storm!”

  Followed by the Hardys, Chet, and the two Stanwide men, he ran off into the brush and back along the path over which they had come.

  The wind became more violent and the rain was falling steadily. It quickly increased to a heavy downpour which stung the faces of the boys and their companions.

  Reaching the cove, the group leaped into the raft and started paddling toward the plane, which was already being tossed around like a cork. Despite all their efforts, progress was slow. Each stroke of the paddles took the raft only a few inches ahead.

  Finally, they managed to reach the plane. Jumping onto it from the raft was a precarious operation. The craft rolled and pitched violently under the pounding of the waves.

  The Hardys glanced at the anchor ropes anxiously. They were being strained taut.

  “Those ropes will snap any minute!” Frank thought fearfully.

  CHAPTER XIX

  Hideout Trap

  THE storm had now become a raging fury. Huge waves crashed against the hull of the amphibian, causing it to heave violently.

  “Those anchor ropes aren’t going to hold!” Jerry yelled.

  “What about putting out more lines?” suggested Frank.

  “We have extra rope aboard,” said the pilot, “but what do we attach it to? We haven’t any more anchors.”

  “I can carry the other ends of the ropes to shore in the raft and tie them to the rocks,” Frank replied.

  “Too dangerous!” Jerry shouted above the wind. “The raft would be swamped in a sea like this!”

  “We have no choice,” Frank answered. “We’ll have to take the chance.”

  Frank worked his way aft and picked up two coils of rope. Joe and the others pitched in to help. Climbing outside and clinging to the heaving fuselage, they fastened one end of a coil of rope to the tail, the end of the other to the bow.

  Carrying both coils with him, Frank jumped into the raft and began paddling toward shore, feeding out lengths of rope behind him. The raft pitched violently in all directions. Then suddenly a towering wave crashed over the young detective. The paddle was yanked from his hand and the raft turned over.

  “Frank! Frank!” shouted Joe.

  Suddenly his brother’s head bobbed up in the tossing sea. He still clung to one of the ropes. Joe and the others grabbed it at their end and began hauling him in. As Frank neared the hull, another wave hit and slammed him against the plane. Although dazed by the blow, he continued to cling to the rope. Finally he was hauled aboard. They all climbed back inside the airplane.

  “Good try, Frank!” said Kurt Lerner.

  “Too bad I got swamped.”

  “What’ll we do now?” Joe asked as he felt the plane lurch hard against the anchor ropes.

  “I have an idea!” said Jerry. “It’s our last chance!”

  Scrambling forward, he strapped himself into the pilot’s seat. There he pumped the throttles a few times, worked the fuel primers, and turned on the engine ignition switches.

  “What are you going to do?” Frank asked.

  “Try to meet the storm on its own terms!” Jerry said grimly. “If we can get started, I can head into the wind and try to ride it out!”

  He engaged the engine starters. The propellers turned slowly, but the engines failed to respond.

  At that instant a series of massive waves spilled over the plane. The craft heaved violently, snapping first one anchor rope, then the other. The plane began to drift rapidly toward the jagged rocks on shore.

  Jerry continued to work the starters, but the engines would not respond! “The ignition harnesses must be wet!” the pilot’s voice held a note of helplessness.

  Chet looked out.
The rocks were getting closer! “We’ll be smashed to pieces!” he yelled, taking a deep breath.

  Frank rushed forward and climbed into the seat beside Jerry’s. Frantically he tried to help with the starting procedure.

  “We’d better get ready to jump overboard!” Jerry declared as he glanced at the deadly rocks looming up in front of his window.

  Frank and Jerry continued to work the throttles and engage the starters. Suddenly the right engine backfired a few times, then burst into life.

  Using the one engine, Jerry swung the plane around and headed into the wind and oncoming waves. By applying full power, he was able to halt the craft’s drift toward the rocks.

  “That was close!” Frank said, sighing in relief.

  “We’re not out of this yet,” Jerry said. “With only one engine running, we have to apply so much power to hold our position that we’re likely to burn out the motor!”

  He again tried starting the left engine. Finally his persistence paid off. The engine backfired once, then roared in response.

  Jerry eased the throttles ahead and pulled still farther away from the rocks. He reduced power sufficiently to hold their position, yet prevent the engines from overheating.

  “Great job!” said Frank, and Jerry gave a wry smile.

  The waves continued to batter the plane. Water seeped in through seams around the windows and the door, making it necessary for the occupants to bail constantly.

  “How can the plane take this pounding?” Frank asked.

  “It’s a strong ship,” Jerry answered. “Also, the fact that we’re in a cove is helping to take some of the kick out of the waves.”

  The wind and the rain continued to rage. Jerry glanced at the fuel gauges.

  “If this storm doesn’t end soon,” he observed gloomily, “we’ll run out of fuel. Then we’ll really be in trouble!”

  Gradually, however, the rain and gusts of wind seemed to diminish in activity.

  “I think the storm is moving off!” Joe said happily.

  “You’re right,” Jerry agreed.

  As night fell, the rain stopped and the wind subsided to a gentle breeze. Switching on the plane’s bright landing lights, the pilot carefully taxied to a narrow part of the cove. Retrieving the rope which they had attached to the bow of the plane, Frank and Joe swam ashore and tied the end around a rock. Meanwhile, Lerner and Vogel had tied the stern line to another rock at the opposite side of the cove.

  Satisfied that the airplane was now secure, the whole group fell exhausted on the beach and slept soundly through the remainder of the night.

  The next day, after a breakfast from the plane’s store of provisions, Jerry began an examination of the craft for damage. The Hardys, with Chet, Lerner, and Vogel, set out to collect the drums of aviation gasoline. It was long, arduous work. Each of the drums had to be rolled through the brush to the shore of the cove, loaded onto the raft, which had washed ashore undamaged, then ferried to the plane. There the contents were emptied into the fuel tanks.

  It was late afternoon before the refueling operation was completed. The boys then made a quick tour of the small island, but found no one hiding there. Jerry, meanwhile, had examined every inch of the plane and reported it to be airworthy.

  “I suggest we take off immediately, while we still have some daylight,” he said.

  Soon they were airborne again, headed for Montana. They flew throughout the night. Shortly after daybreak, Jerry landed once to refuel, then set off again. By late morning he announced that they were over Montana.

  “I’ll head for the area indicated on that chart you boys found on the island,” said the pilot.

  When they reached it, he established a search pattern by maneuvering the aircraft into a series of weaving courses. The boys looked with fascination at the twisting valleys and rivers below. Mountains jutted up all around them.

  “Exactly what is it we’re looking for?” Chet questioned.

  “The gang’s hideout would have to be near a long, level stretch of ground which could serve as a runway,” Frank answered. “This particular area is rugged, so there can’t be too many spots for landing.”

  Jerry applied more power and climbed to a higher altitude to clear some of the lower mountains. He continued the search pattern.

  “It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Chet mumbled.

  “Wait a minute,” said Frank. “Let’s take a closer look at that spot over there.” He pointed slightly to his right.

  Jerry rolled into a turn and straightened out in the direction Frank had indicated.

  “See the timber line on the side of that mountain ahead?” Frank asked. “There’s a stretch of level ground right above it.”

  “I see it!” Joe exclaimed. “And say, there’s a shack in a clearing in those woods about half a mile away.”

  The pilot also sighted the spot. He maneuvered the plane closer to the level area.

  “What do you think?” Frank asked Jerry.

  “It’s level enough and plenty long for a landing. I’d say it would make an ideal runway. And that grove of trees at the far end would be a perfect hiding place for an airplane.”

  Frank suggested that they land and investigate the area. Jerry headed the plane down and flew at a height of less than a hundred feet above the ground.

  “The surface looks smooth,” he said. “I’m going to swing around and make a long approach for a landing.”

  He rolled the plane into a turn and then lined it up with the level stretch of ground, reduced power, extended the landing gear, and lowered full flaps. The craft touched down smoothly and rolled to a stop with plenty of room to spare. Jerry taxied toward the grove of trees, shut off the engines, and parked. The Hardys, followed by the others, got out and glanced around at the hard, bare ground.

  “It doesn’t look as if anyone has been here before,” Frank remarked glumly.

  “I guess we’re just on a wild-goose chase,” Joe said with a frown.

  “Hey, fellows!” yelled Chet, who had been reconnoitering an area that sloped away from the grove of trees where the ground was softer.

  Frank and Joe rushed over to their chum.

  “Look!” Chet said, pointing at the ground. “Footprints!”

  All the boys examined the tracks closely. The heavy impressions of a man’s shoes were clear, and led down the slope. “The prints were made recently!” Joe concluded.

  Excitedly the young detectives followed the trail of prints. Lerner and Vogel tagged along a short distance behind. Jerry Madden remained with the plane.

  Suddenly Frank stopped and gazed straight ahead. He gestured for everyone to be quiet. Through the trees they could see a small shack.

  Motioning Joe to follow him, Frank began to creep toward it. Reaching the shack, the boys peered through a knothole in the wall. What they saw startled them. Seated inside were Lance Peterson and Aaron Lieberl Tensely the Hardys each pressed an ear to the wall in hopes of overhearing the men’s conversation.

  “Why should we divide the loot equally?” the boys heard Lieber growl. “We did most of the work.”

  “We’ll only divvy up what we’ve already unpacked,” Peterson replied. “The stuff we buried in the old dry well won’t be missed by the others. We’ll keep that for ourselves.”

  “The rest of the guys ought to be flying in soon,” Lieber said.

  This remark startled and worried the boys. They must hurry to capture these men before the new arrivals might capture the Hardys and their companions!

  When the brothers reported what they had heard, Lerner and Vogel offered to rush the place and seize Peterson and Lieber.

  Frank did not agree. “They may be armed,” he said. “By the time we broke into the shack, they’d have a chance to use their weapons. Let’s get them to come outside.”

  “How?” Joe asked.

  Frank grinned at his brother, then turned to Chet. “Here’s your chance to play ghost.”

  Chet and the Hardys hid
behind some brush located a short distance from the shack. Vogel and Lerner took up concealed positions nearby.

  “Okay.” Frank quickly whispered something to his stout friend. “You’re on.”

  Chet cleared his throat, then called out in deep, eerie tones:

  “This is the ghost of Clint Hill! You cannot escape a man that you have killed!”

  A second later Peterson and Lieber bolted from the shack. Terror-stricken, they looked around.

  “The ghost! It’s the ghost!” Peterson screamed. “We’ve got to get away!”

  Lerner and Vogel sprang out from a bush. Leaping on the two thieves, they quickly overpowered them.

  “What—what’s going on?” Lieber shouted, dumfounded.

  The captured men were even more startled to see the Hardys striding toward them.

  “What are you two doing here?” Lieber yelled.

  “How did you find us?” blurted Peterson. “And where’s the ghost?”

  “Never mind,” said Frank. “Who else is in the gang with you?”

  “We’re not talking,” growled Lieber.

  “If you won’t tell us, we’ll find out anyway,” said Frank. “Bush Barney and Anchor are in jail. We know some more of your pals are due here shortly.”

  The prisoners glanced at each other apprehensively. They were herded into the shack, seated in chairs, and their hands tied firmly behind their backs.

  Frank said that he and Joe would guard the two captives. He instructed Lerner, Vogel, and Chet to go back and warn Jerry that more members of the gang were flying in.

  “Make sure our own plane is hidden,” Frank commanded. “Then wait there and nab whoever arrives.”

  Alone with Peterson and his henchman, the Hardys began to question them. Peterson offered to make a deal, but the boys refused to listen. The only concession Frank would make was that it might go easier for the men if they would cooperate.

  That seemed to make up Peterson’s mind. “I can give you a complete list of everybody who’s in this with us,” he said, “and how the whole operation worked. You’ll find it all in that metal box up there on the top shelf.” He nodded toward the opposite end of the room.