The Mystery of Cabin Island Read online

  “What a view!” exclaimed Biff, looking out the front window. Below, the curve of Barmet Bay lay like an ice-blue jewel, with Cabin Island a white pearl in the distance. Biff focused the binoculars on the spot. Suddenly he cried out, “Hey, fellows! An iceboat’s pulling up to the island! It’s the Hawk!

  CHAPTER X

  Puzzling Theft

  BIFF’S report on the iceboat sent a thrill of excitement through the Bayporters.

  “Who’s aboard?” Frank asked eagerly.

  “Hanleigh and his two stooges,” Biff replied. “He’s climbing out now, but Ike and Tad are staying in the boat.”

  Biff handed the binoculars to Frank. Clamping them to his eyes, he saw Hanleigh moving alone up the slope toward the cabin. A sudden inspiration struck Frank.

  “Let’s get the goods on him, Joe. How about using your self-developing camera? You can photograph Hanleigh from here with the telescopic lens.”

  “Great idea!” Joe exclaimed. “He’d probably deny he was on this island. If we have proof he was there, we may be able to bluff him into telling us what he’s after.”

  Joe, too, took a hasty look through the binoculars before passing them on to Chet, then removed the camera from its case, focused it, and clicked the shutter. “I’ll leave the print in the camera until we get back. Let’s go!”

  “Wait a second!” exclaimed Frank, who had taken over the glasses again.

  “What’s Hanleigh doing now?” Biff asked as Frank shifted the binoculars slightly.

  “He’s circling the cabin—hey! He’s stopping at the chimney! Looks as if he’s examining it.”

  Hanleigh had a stick with which he tapped and poked at the stonework. Presently he stopped and disappeared among the trees.

  “Bet he’s leaving,” said Frank. “Come on, fellows!”

  The boys hurried from the cabin, donned their snowshoes again, and made their way down the slope. Soon they reached the Sea Gull. All climbed aboard except Biff who pushed the iceboat to a running start.

  As the Gull swooped across the cove to Cabin Island, Joe pointed toward the entrance to the bay. “Hanleigh’s leaving. There goes the Hawk!”

  Biff turned the binoculars on the speeding craft and shook his head. “Hanleigh isn’t aboard. Ike and Tad are alone.”

  “Hanleigh must still be on the island!” Joe cried out. “Hurry, Frank!”

  “Right!” His brother skillfully maneuvered the Sea Gull, taking full advantage of every gust of wind. “No doubt Ike and Tad will come back for Hanleigh later,” Frank added as he steered for the boathouse.

  “Later? It’s nearly evening already!” Chet observed. “I’ll bet that guy plans to stay all night!”

  Biff hooted. “Where would he sleep? Under a rock?”

  Joe looked thoughtful. “Maybe you have something, Chet. Hanleigh may know of a secret shelter on the island—perhaps a cave somewhere along the shore.”

  Frank brought the Sea Gull to the boathouse, and as he put it inside, the boys discussed the strange action of Ike and Tad.

  “I wonder why they took off,” Joe said. “We heard them agreeing to spy on Hanleigh, but now for some reason they seem to have changed their minds.”

  “Maybe those two have deliberately stranded Hanleigh!” Frank exclaimed.

  “You mean,” said his brother, “Ike and Tad tried to cash in on Hanleigh’s deal, and he told them to get lost.”

  “Right,” said Frank. “So now they’re getting even by leaving him marooned here.”

  Carrying their snowshoes, the four strode through the deep snowdrifts toward the cabin. Darkness was coming on rapidly, and they moved like stealthy Indians, keeping a wary lookout for the intruder. However, they saw no sign of their enemy either on the way or near the cabin.

  Cautiously Frank opened the door, entered, and lit the lamp. The place looked untouched. Everyone crowded in.

  “Brr-r!” Chet shivered. “It’s icy in here. Let’s get a fire going.”

  Soon a cheerful blaze was crackling in the fireplace, and a woodstove fire added its warmth.

  “Boy, that heat sure feels good,” Chet said gratefully, rubbing his hands together over the potbellied stove. “Now for some chow!”

  “Hold it!” Frank said. “We still haven’t located Hanleigh. If he’s not here in the cabin—”

  “We don’t know that for certain,” Joe cut in. “There’s one place we still haven’t looked.”

  “Where?” Biff asked.

  “The attic.”

  Frank snapped his fingers. “You’re right—I forgot that. We’d better check.”

  “Give me a boost,” Joe said, “and I’ll soon find out.”

  Frank and Biff each took one of Joe’s legs and hoisted him toward the ceiling. Pushing open the trap door, Joe clambered up into the attic and shone his flashlight all around through the chilly, musty darkness.

  “How about it?” Frank called impatiently from below.

  “No sign of him.”

  The others were uneasily silent as Joe lowered himself through the ceiling opening again and dropped to the floor, letting the trap door fall shut behind him.

  Then Biff voiced what each boy was thinking. “Hanleigh’s got to be somewhere on this island—unless he hiked back to the mainland.”

  “Well, there’s only one way to make sure,” said Joe.

  Chet gave a groan. “Good grief! Don’t tell me we have to go out and beat the bushes again. I’m starved!”

  “Guess we all are,” Frank said with a wry grin. “But I agree with Joe. If Hanleigh’s skulking around the island anywhere, we’d better find him —and the sooner the better.”

  “Check! We sure don’t want that creep coming back in the middle of the night to play any dirty tricks on us,” Biff pointed out.

  Chet’s plump, ruddy cheeks turned a shade paler at the prospect of another night of ghostly episodes. “Okay, okay,” he said hastily. “Let’s get it over with.”

  Pulling on their heavy jackets again, the boys went outdoors to make a thorough search. Flashlight beams probed behind trees and into clumps of bushes. An hour later they met inside the cabin, tired and cold. They had not found their quarry, nor any hiding place where he might take shelter overnight.

  Frowning, Joe flung off his outdoor clothes and sat down cross-legged on the braided rug in front of the hearth.

  “Hanleigh must have sneaked across the ice,” he concluded, poking the fire.

  Frank thrust his fists into his pockets. “I’m going to find out what that guy was doing here!” he declared.

  “Well, I’ve had enough mystery for a while,” Chet spoke up. “I’m starting dinner!” The plump boy headed for the kitchen. A moment later he came running back to the living room. “It’s gone!” he wailed.

  “What’s gone?” Frank asked.

  “The food! There’s not a bit left!”

  “Hanleigh, I’ll bet!” Biff declared angrily.

  “Chet,” Joe queried, “are you sure the food is not there?”

  “Yes! Last night I put the cartons of grub we didn’t use in the cabinets. You fellows saw me!”

  For a moment the four hungry boys stared at one another in dismay. Then Frank said, “I can’t believe Hanleigh came here to steal our food. Probably he hid the supplies just to inconvenience us so we’d leave. Let’s check to see if they’re stashed somewhere in the cabin.”

  The food could not be found. “We’ll have to go to town for more groceries,” Chet urged.

  “It’s too dark to take the Sea Gull out,” Frank reminded him.

  “We could always go home for supplies,” said Chet.

  “Not me!” exclaimed Joe. “No sirree!” He grinned wryly. “I can hear Aunt Gertrude saying, ‘I told you so.’”

  “We’d look like great detectives,” his brother agreed, “when somebody can steal the food right out from under our noses.”

  “That’s right,” said Biff. “Besides, it’s a long cold walk to the car.”

&n
bsp; “Oh, no!” Chet moaned as he sank down on the sofa, his hands on his ample stomach. “I’ll starve!”

  “Not for a month or two,” Biff assured him.

  “Hanleigh’s mighty eager to have us give up this vacation,” Joe said thoughtfully. “I wish we knew why.”

  “Of course we don’t know for sure he did steal the food,” Frank stated. “Maybe somebody else was here and took it.”

  “Well, at least we have proof Hanleigh was on the island while we were away,” Joe reminded the others. “I’ll get that photo!”

  He opened the camera and removed the snapshot. The young detective studied the picture, then gave a low whistle of surprise.

  “What is it?” Frank asked as he, Chet, and Biff hurried over.

  “Hanleigh’s not alone!” Joe exclaimed.

  The photograph showed him standing by the chimney, holding the stout stick with which he had been tapping and poking. Some distance behind him, partially hidden among the trees, was another figure. The stranger was dark and slim and was dressed in a long, flowing white robe. A turban covered his head!

  CHAPTER XI

  A Cryptic Notation

  “THE ghost that Chet saw!” Frank exclaimed as he stared at the snapshot of the white-robed man.

  “Y-you think so?” Chet asked incredulously.

  “It could be!” Joe declared. “I wonder who this person is, how he got here, and where he is now.”

  “Perhaps he came with Hanleigh,” Biff suggested.

  “I doubt it,” Frank replied. “Look at the way the fellow’s standing back in the shadow of the trees, almost as if he was spying on Hanleigh.”

  Frank paused, then added, “First thing tomorrow Joe and I will go to the mainland and phone Ike and Tad. If they’re sore at Hanleigh, maybe they’ll give us a lead on what his game is.”

  “Yes, and we’ll ask if they’re running taxi service for a ghost!” Joe grinned.

  “Maybe this turbaned fellow stole our food,” Chet remarked. “Say, what are we going to do about that?”

  Frank laughed. “Tomorrow Joe and I will buy supplies. But you and Biff will have to stay and guard the island.”

  “I’ll admit I’m hungry as a bear, too,” Joe said.

  “Likewise!” Biff put in.

  “Well, fellows,” Chet began sheepishly, “I—er—forgot about this until now, but—er—we can have a snack.”

  The others stared at the rotund youth, who reddened as he explained. “When I made sandwiches for lunch, I put some away—in case of emergency!”

  “Where are they?” asked Joe. “We searched all over this place!”

  Chet went into the bedroom he and Biff shared and returned with five thick sandwiches in a large plastic bag.

  “Come on! Where’d you hide them?” Biff asked.

  “In the bottom of my sleeping bag.”

  “You weren’t thinking of an emergency!” Joe scoffed. “This was to be your midnight snack!”

  “Aren’t you glad!” Chet countered.

  “You win,” Frank said, and they devoured the sandwiches.

  Early the next morning Frank and Joe felt insistent fingers tapping them awake. “Get up!” Chet implored. “You have to go after groceries.”

  The Hardys dressed hurriedly. Frank told Biff and Chet, “While we’re away, you might search the island for our stolen grub. Chances are that Hanleigh hid it all in one place not far from the cabin.”

  Frank and Joe glided off in the iceboat, steered out of the cove, and soon were tying up at a nearby coastal summer resort named Surfside. The boys walked to the deserted main street. “Place is really hopping, isn’t it?” Frank chuckled, surveying the tiny, weatherworn houses, many of them boarded up.

  “Anyway, here’s a phone.” Joe pointed to an outside booth. He stood by and listened while his brother dialed Ike Nash’s number.

  “No answer,” Frank reported. “I’ll try Tad.”

  The Carson boy was home, but his responses to Frank’s queries were rude and uncooperative.

  “I don’t know anything,” Tad insisted. “Hanleigh told us to scram and not to snoop around. So we left.”

  “How about a man wearing a white robe? Did you taxi him to Cabin Island too?”

  “White robe? You’re nuts!” Tad guffawed and hung up abruptly.

  “That didn’t accomplish much,” Frank said wryly as he and Joe walked away from the booth. “Let’s see if we can find a place to buy food.”

  Presently the boys stopped at a small frame building. A sign above the door proclaimed:

  GENERAL STORE, AMOS GRICE, PROP.

  As the boys entered, a short, elderly man with a bald crown and skinny wattled neck eyed them intently from his chair beside a black potbellied stove.

  “And what might you lads be after?” he chirped.

  “Hello,” said Frank. “We’re here for some groceries. Are you Mr. Grice?”

  “Yep. Odd to see strange faces around these parts here this time o’ year,” the storekeeper remarked.

  “We’re roughing it near here,” Joe told the man.

  Amos Grice clucked. “Most folks prefer sittin’ by a fire when winter comes on. Well, you’re out early this mornin‘!”

  “Necessity,” Joe replied. “Somebody stole our supplies.”

  “I declare!” The old man looked startled. “Don’t tell me there’s more folks trekkin’ about in all this cold and snow!”

  “Seems that way.” Joe grinned as he and Frank began to pick out canned goods and other food items.

  “Where’d you boys say you’re stayin‘?” the storekeeper asked when the Hardys brought their purchases to the counter.

  “On Cabin Island,” Joe replied.

  “Cabin Island!” Mr. Grice repeated in surprise. “Has Elroy Jefferson sold the place?”

  “No,” Frank told him. “Mr. Jefferson is letting us use his cabin during our Christmas vacation.”

  Frank paid the storekeeper, who then commented, “Elroy Jefferson’s a fine sort. Haven’t seen him in a while. What’s he doin’?”

  “He seems to keep busy traveling and collecting antiques,” Joe replied.

  Mr. Grice propped his elbows on the counter and said thoughtfully, “Elroy Jefferson used to come in here every Tuesday for supplies, and the little fellow with him. He loved Johnny like his own son. And where’s the youngster nowadays?”

  “We don’t know, Mr. Grice,” Frank answered, not wishing to reveal anything about their case to the friendly but gossipy proprietor.

  “Mr. Jefferson was always crazy about antiques,” the storekeeper went on. “I recall how upset he was when his medal collection disappeared.”

  “Have you any idea what happened to it?” Joe asked.

  “Nope. All I know is the medals disappeared and so did John Sparewell.”

  “Do people believe he stole the medals?” Frank asked.

  “Not that I’ve heard. But it was odd he van ished at the same time.”

  The Hardys exchanged glances but did not comment, and Grice went on:

  “You know, boys, just about a week ago a fellow was in here askin’ about Jefferson’s medals. I hadn’t thought of ‘em in years, before this fellow came by. Somehow I didn’t feel right to tell him a thing, so I didn’t.”

  “Who was this man?” Frank asked.

  “Don’t know. Never seen him before. He was a scary sort—dressed up like Halloween. He had somethin’ wrapped around his head.”

  The Hardys’ thoughts flew to the “ghost.” Joe asked, “Do you remember anything else about the person? Did he tell you why he was interested in the medals?”

  Amos Grice wrinkled his brow. “I got rid of that spooky fellow soon’s I could.”

  After a few more minutes of conversation, the boys said good-by and left. They walked quickly toward the Sea Gull.

  “What do you think of Mr. Grice’s ‘scary’ visitor?” Joe asked his brother.

  Frank replied, “I’m sure it was the man in the tu
rban and the white robe. And he’s apparently interested in the medals, too.”

  “Say!” Joe exclaimed. “Maybe he is in league with Hanleigh. I’ll bet they’re both after the collection and think there’s some clue to it on the island.”

  The boys climbed into the Sea Gull with their bags of groceries. “I’ll concentrate on your hunch while you take a turn at the tiller,” Frank told Joe.

  “Swell with me!” Joe grinned.

  Out on the bay, the Sea Gull swerved and dipped like a live thing. “The wind’s picked up!” Joe called out.

  “I’ll say!”

  Joe deftly guided the iceboat toward the narrow inlet, the wind pushing them faster every moment. But suddenly it changed direction sharply. A wild gust whacked the Sea Gull‘s sail. The craft hiked crazily and streaked straight for the rocky shore !

  “Lean!” Joe shouted. The boys shifted their weight, and Joe threw all his strength against the tiller while Frank trimmed the sail. The boat began to turn, but the jagged rocks loomed close.

  “We’re going to hit!” yelled Joe, bracing himself for the splintering crash.

  But the iceboat skimmed past—safe by no more than two inches.

  “Whew!” Frank said with a big sigh of relief.

  Joe looked grim. “We’re not out of trouble yet. This wind is tricky!”

  Strong gusts continued to buffet the craft, but the boys were able to control it. At last the wind moderated and Joe steered the iceboat through the narrow inlet to the island.

  When the Sea Gull was safe inside the boathouse, Chet and Biff came bounding through the snow to meet the Hardys.

  “That was great sailing!” Biff exclaimed. “We were watching you.”

  “It was rough,” Joe admitted, handing the groceries to Chet, who reached out eagerly for the bags. “I’m afraid the eggs are scrambled!”

  “If they aren’t now, they will be!” the cook replied, and headed straight for the kitchen. A short time later the four sat down to a delicious breakfast.

  After the Hardys had reported on the trip to Surfside, Biff and Chet told of their failure to locate the stolen supplies.