The Clue of the Screeching Owl Page 5

  “Yes, I camp out here,” he said, as the four sat around the plank table near a ventilation flue. “I come for a rest. I take it easy, and raise a few sheep. It’s a quiet place.”

  “Quiet is right,” Chet agreed. “You’d never know it was here!”

  “Ah, but that was the idea,” said Donner. “The idea of living in the cabin, I mean. I guess you could call me a hermit.

  “I love this cabin. You notice the way it blends with the surroundings? Take a look at the back wall of this kitchen. See? Solid rock. That’s the rock face of the hollow. This cabin is over a hundred years old. Do you know what was going on then?”

  “Let me see,” said Joe. “That would be just about the time of the Civil War.”

  “Right. This was one of the stations on the Underground Railway—the route for smuggling runaway slaves up to Canada. That’s why it’s so well hidden, and has no windows, no lights to give it away at night. It’s small, but comfortable.”

  While he examined the unusual little house, one fact stuck in Joe’s mind: There seemed to be only one door in the place; the one at the front. How was a runaway slave supposed to escape if he were surprised here? Besides, hadn’t he heard a door closing earlier, or had he imagined it?

  While Joe wondered, suddenly there came an urgent knocking.

  CHAPTER VIII

  Rock Barrage

  THE sunlight streaming into the hermit’s cabin was suddenly blocked off by the stocky figure of Sheriff Ecker.

  “’Morning, Donner,” he said, as the tall man came forward with hand outstretched. “Sorry to break in, but we’re going to need your help.”

  By this time Frank, Joe, and Chet had come from the kitchen. “Oh, the boys found you first, did they?” The sheriff spoke in a gruff but friendly voice.

  He was dressed for the wilderness in high-top boots and a sturdy belt from which hung a heavy revolver in its holster. Three men were standing together behind the sheriff.

  “Well, here’s your search party,” Ecker said to Joe. “It’s not much of a posse—three men are all I can spare, but we’ll do what we can. With you fellows and Mr. Donner here, we’ll have eight, and that’s pretty good. Sorry I couldn’t get hold of a good dog to take along.”

  “That’s all right, Sheriff,” Chet spoke up. “We have Mystery!”

  “Our beagle,” Joe explained hastily.

  “Search party?” repeated Donner. “That sounds terribly official to me, Sheriff!”

  Sheriff Ecker shot a quick look at the smiling Donner. “Did the boys tell you what’s up?”

  “Well, they did say something about their captain friend being missing. He probably just went for a long hike in the woods. I’d no idea it was so important that the sheriff personally would lead a search party in these out-of-the-way parts,” he added, smiling.

  Sheriff Ecker frowned, obviously reminded of other urgent matters. Joe and Frank glanced at each other—would the man change his mind about conducting the search? But Ecker merely said:

  “I’d like you to come along, Mr. Donner, since you know the hollow so well.”

  “By all means,” agreed the big man. “But now that you are here, come in and have a look at my little retreat, Sheriff. It’s over a hundred years old. I was just telling the boys that it used to be a hide-out for runaway slaves.”

  Hospitably, Donner conducted Ecker through the cabin, while the boys waited. Joe went to introduce himself to the three deputies.

  Chet, meanwhile, accompanied by the frisky young puppy, wandered over to the three-cornered sheep pen and peered inside. Frank stayed near the door of Donner’s house. He stared thoughtfully at the ground. Something shiny that lay deep in the tall meadow grass caught his eye. Unobserved by the others, he stooped down, examined the object, and slipped it into his pocket, just before Donner and the sheriff appeared.

  “Ready to go, boys?” Donner boomed.

  The group now formed under his direction. Donner had put on a dapper felt hat with bright-colored trout flies hooked in the band. With an amused grin he was stuffing a long-barreled target pistol with a fancy pearl handle into his belt.

  “Now I feel like a real deputy,” he joked. Frank and Chet took their places with Joe.

  “Now, my husky young friend,” Donner went on, gripping Chet’s shoulder, “suppose you come up front with your dog. Black Hollow has two kinds of terrain, woods on the bottom and rock on the sides. We’ll take the woods first, and the rocks later.”

  Quickly the searchers were told by Sheriff Ecker to fan out in order to cover as much ground as possible. Each person was to keep the man to the right of him in plain sight, and was responsible for the area between them.

  Chet, with Mystery eagerly sniffing and straining at his homemade leash, was placed near the center, slightly in advance of the rest. Sheriff Ecker stationed himself on the left wing, and Frank and Joe had the extreme right. Donner took the middle, so he could call directions. In this order the party advanced into the thick woods on the hunt for Captain Maguire.

  The tangled undergrowth, dim light, and the numerous trees growing densely together made progress difficult and slow.

  “Sheriff!” Donner called out. “There’s a little gully over near you. Check it. Maguire may have fallen into it.”

  In a minute the report came back, “Nobody there!”

  Another time the woodsman sang out jokingly, “You—Joe Hardy—you’ll be coming to a hollow tree. Better look and see if your friend’s inside!”

  Joe smiled faintly, but he was beginning to be annoyed at Donner’s rather lighthearted approach to the affair. “Treats the whole thing like a lark,” the young sleuth thought.

  All the while his keen eyes scanned the ground, bushes, and heavy undergrowth. Frank and Chet also were constantly on the alert.

  The search continued through the gloomy hollow. All at once, Mystery gave a high-pitched yap at something that had startled him.

  “A man!” Chet shouted. “I see a body!”

  From both sides the searchers came pounding toward him. All stared ahead into the dark woods. Ahead lay the huddled figure of a man in black coat and cap, and gray trousers!

  Tensely, with Mystery bounding along, they pressed forward. Frank and Joe were the first to reach the figure. Both gasped in relief.

  “It’s only a fallen tree limb!” Joe exclaimed, as the others came up.

  “Some eyes you’ve got, Morton,” Donner roared. The deputies shook their heads in a half-amused, half-exasperated gesture.

  “Well, it looked like a body—from far away,” Chet apologized ruefully.

  “Might as well call a halt and rest now that we’re all together,” Sheriff Ecker interposed.

  Eager to make amends, Chet opened his knapsack and passed around tuna-fish, egg-salad, and ham-and-cheese sandwiches. The three deputies sat down on the tree limb that had fooled Chet. Frank, Joe, and the sheriff squatted on their heels while Donner lounged against a tree.

  “It’s noon, but you’d never know it in these dark woods,” Sheriff Ecker commented.

  While Chet went from man to man with a big Thermos of coffee, Frank brought a tiny transistor radio from his pocket and turned on the twelve-o’clock news.

  The swift, precise voice of an announcer roused the search party’s attention:

  “New Jersey and Pennsylvania State Police were forced to admit defeat this morning in their attempt to recover thousands of dollars’ worth of surgical equipment stolen last night from a truck en route to New Jersey.

  “Daring hijackers stopped the tractor trailer carrying the equipment, knocked the driver unconscious, and apparently fled in a vehicle of their own. No trace of them has been discovered.”

  Frank and Joe exchanged meaningful glances. This news indicated their father’s work on the case was far from finished!

  “Officials emphasized,” the broadcaster continued, “that this robbery was only the latest in a series of many which have taken place in the area recently. Combined
efforts of law-enforcement agencies in both states to round up the hijackers have so far ended in total failure.”

  “Turn it off,” the sheriff snapped.

  Donner, however, merely chuckled and shook his head with amusement. “Now isn’t that just like our State Police!” he said. “Just don’t want to work overtime, probably. No wonder they can’t keep up with these hijackers. When thieves are on a job they don’t worry about the hours!

  “Now, Sheriff, you tell me,” the big man went on, “why aren’t these criminals caught? All it would take, it seems to me, is a system of alerting all policemen within a reasonable radius, and posting them on all possible escape routes.”

  “Mr. Donner, I know you mean well,” answered Ecker, frowning, “but you’re hittin’ kind of close to home. I was out all night myself, and my men too. We were out the night before that. I’d be watching the roads right now, if I wasn’t here searching for this man who’s disappeared. A policeman can’t do two things at once, y’know —no more than another man.”

  “You’re right, Sheriff, and I’m sorry,” Walter Donner apologized. “Let’s finish this search.”

  Accordingly, the party spread out in line again, and the hunt went on. By midafternoon the searchers had thoroughly combed the wooded valley floor without discovering a clue to Captain Maguire’s whereabouts. Now they found themselves up against the steep, rocky side of the hollow.

  “I see a cave up there,” said Donner, pointing above to ledges and boulders. “It’s just possible we may find something in it. You boys go on ahead. I’ll come after you. I’m not in very good condition for climbing.”

  In a moment Joe Hardy was working his way nimbly up the gray rock wall. Frank and Chet followed close behind. Above them, the cave mouth was a black opening in the rocks.

  Soon Joe reached a narrow cross ledge about a third of the way up. As he pulled himself onto it, however, he was suddenly staggered by a stone that crashed into his forehead.

  “Look out! Above you!” Donner shouted.

  Other stones came bouncing down at the climbing boys, narrowly missing them. Looking up, they saw a tall, lean figure at the top of the hollow. He kept hurling the dangerous missiles.

  “It’s Simon!” cried Donner. “Watch out!”

  The mute boy waved his arms threateningly.

  “He’s trying to stop us from coming up,” Joe said grimly. “Well, he’s not going to succeed!”

  Though his head was bleeding, the plucky boy crawled upward again after Frank, who was now in the lead. Chet was climbing at a slower pace behind them. Seeing the trio advance, the strange boy redoubled his barrage.

  One stone bruised Frank’s forearm. Another skipped off his back. Dodging, the determined boy crawled steadily upward. He reached the ledge at the mouth of the cave, then he turned, and with a skillful pull and twist, hauled his brother up beside him.

  Abruptly the stoning ceased. Frank and Joe turned to face the cave itself. The next instant they froze in their tracks. Barely three feet from their faces a deadly timber rattler was coiling to strike!

  At that moment two more of the venomous snakes slithered out of the cave itself!

  CHAPTER IX

  Setting a Trap

  THERE was no escape for the Hardys—the ledge was too narrow. They were trapped by the deadly reptiles. The steep drop below the cave cut off all chance of rapid descent. While the two rattlers slithered toward their exposed ankles, Frank and Joe raised their arms in an attempt to ward off the strike of the reptile coiled just above them.

  Crack! The shot of a pistol was followed in a split second by the unmistakable smack of a bullet hitting home. The snake’s long body exploded straight upward, writhing, and then fell with a thud at the Hardys’ feet. Startled, the two other rattlers retreated into the cave.

  “Off the ledge, quick!” cried Frank.

  Scrambling backward, both boys hung for an instant by their finger tips from the ledge. In another moment they were grasped firmly by Chet Morton and Walter Donner, who had climbed up the steep rock face. Donner held in one hand the smoking, long-barreled pistol which had ended the life of the deadly snake.

  When the four climbers were back on the ground, Sheriff Ecker wiped his brow in relief. “A close call,” he declared, still shaken. “Wasn’t a thing we could do!”

  “Lucky for us you decided to come up, Mr. Donner,” Joe addressed the tall man gratefully. “And even luckier you can shoot so well.”

  “We’re certainly thankful you were near enough to shoot,” Frank added. “Your bullet must have caught that rattler right in the head!”

  Walter Donner’s face, usually so good-natured, had become serious, and even stern.

  “I’m glad I happened to be here,” he answered. “I hate to think of what would have happened otherwise. Suppose you boys had gone rushing up to that cave, without looking where you were going, and I wasn’t around? It would have been a terrible tragedy!”

  Putting one arm around Chet’s shoulders, and another around Joe, Donner continued, “If you ever listened to anything, listen to me now. You can’t be too careful in the woods! You never know where danger is going to come from—sometimes under your feet, sometimes over your heads. Snakes like to sun themselves on dry, rocky ledges. Don’t climb around carelessly. Once you are in the wilderness, remember—caution, boys, always caution.”

  “Mr. Donner,” one of the deputies said emphatically, “I’ve got two boys at home, and I couldn’t have said it better to ’em than you just did.”

  “Yep,” another agreed. “The woods is no place for kid stuff. You’ve got to be on the look-out.”

  “It’s true,” Sheriff Ecker put in. “Most people who get in trouble in the woods just don’t know any better. They can’t tell directions, they’re not careful where they step, they forget to bring matches, and so on. Always somebody coming up from town and getting lost in these mountains.”

  “Well”—Donner’s voice became jovial again —“I’m sure these lads are going to be real careful after what happened today.” He turned to the Hardys. “Maybe you’d better stay out of Black Hollow entirely. It’s a dangerous place, especially with that Simon throwing rocks at people. Besides, it seems certain your friend isn’t here.”

  Thwarted and disappointed at finding no trace of the missing captain, Frank, Joe, and Chet thanked the search party and returned to their cabin. Frank washed and dressed the stone cut on his brother’s head.

  “How’s it feel?” he asked.

  “Terrible—I have a corker of a headache.”

  While Joe lay down to rest, Frank again studied the calendar notations made by the captain. Chet Morton busied himself getting supper. When it was ready, the stout boy called out cheerily:

  “Soup’s on. Come and get it!”

  Although Chet had outdone himself to produce a meal of steak, fried potatoes, and hot vegetables, the brothers hardly seemed to notice the food. They ate in thoughtful silence. Chet watched his two friends uneasily.

  “Still feeling blue about it?” he asked at last.

  “About what, Chet?”

  “About that lecture Donner gave us. He sure made it sound as if we’re babes in the woods. Boy, did that get me mad for a minute there! Why, the three of us have been camping for years. I felt like telling him a thing or two!”

  “So did I, Chet,” Joe admitted ruefully. “But I couldn’t, because he’d just saved our lives. It really looked as if we were babes in the woods.”

  “Let’s be fair, fellows,” Frank put in. “It’s true we’re not tenderfeet, but what happened was our own fault. We should have thought of the possibility of snakes. I know they’re apt to be in rocks as well as Donner does....”

  A new idea suddenly crossed Frank’s mind. “... as well as Donner does,” he repeated thoughtfully. “If he knows it, why didn’t he warn us before we went up? Besides, he knows more than that. He knows every rock and tree in Black Hollow, as Sheriff Ecker told us. We trusted Donner’s kn
owledge of the hollow—that’s why we weren’t careful. But who sent us up to that cave? Donner!”

  “That’s right!” Joe chimed in excitedly. “And remember, he invited us to give up the search, and stay out of the hollow. There’s something fishy about that man and his hous . I know I heard a door open in the back. But there wasn’t any sign of one in the kitchen.”

  “What I can’t figure out,” Frank went on, “is why Donner would send us up to a den of rattlers and then save our lives. Because the only reason he climbed up along with us was to get within pistol range of the snakes. The sheriff and his men couldn’t shoot—we were in their line of fire.”

  “There’s your answer,” Joe declared forcefully. “I believe it was Donner’s idea to establish us as woefully inexperienced in front of witnesses. Suppose some ‘accident’ does happen to us down there. The sheriff won’t be suspicious, because he thinks we don’t know how to take care of ourselves!”

  “You mean Donner may be planning to kill us and make it look like an accident?” Chet asked.

  “Who knows?” Frank nodded seriously. “Another thing—the rock throwing by Simon, the mute. Is he in league with Donner? Or was he perhaps throwing stones at us because we were with Donner?”

  Joe frowned. “It’s a puzzler, all right, including Donner’s resemblance to Colonel Thunder.”

  “Hey—I nearly forgot!” Frank reached into his pocket and placed a shiny metal disk on the table.

  “What’s this?” asked Chet, picking it up. “Oh, a dog tag. What’s it say? Skippy! That’s Bobby Thompson’s little dog! Where’d you find this?”

  “In the grass near Donner’s front door.”

  “You think Donner’s been stealing dogs?” Joe queried. “Is he mixed up in some kind of animal racket? He said himself there was an illegal market for dogs.”

  Perplexed, Frank shook his head. “You have me there. If he steals them, I can’t figure out what he does with them. There weren’t any around his house.”

  “That’s true,” Chet agreed. “I took another look in the sheep pen. Nothing in it but sheep. Could be that Skippy just wandered off from the Thompsons’ and lost his tag down by Donner’s.”