The Clue of the Screeching Owl Read online

  At that moment the boys’ own puppy could be heard noisily lapping up warm milk from a pan that Chet had put down for him.

  “We can’t let anything happen to Mystery!” Chet finished anxiously.

  Hearing his name, the beagle romped happily over to Chet’s chair. “Yes, Mystery,” the chunky boy crooned, while the dog’s tail thumped the floor, “we won’t let anything happen to you!”

  “All the same, I think tonight is the time to set our trap for the dog thief,” Frank declared.

  “Right,” Joe agreed promptly. “Mystery, old pup, you’re going to be the bait.”

  “Now wait a minute, fellows,” Chet protested. “I won’t agree to this unless I’m sure we can safeguard Mystery!”

  “I think we can,” said Frank. “We’ll just tie him on the porch after dark. Chet and Joe—you watch from right inside the door at all times. I’ll hide at the side of the house. That way, we ought to catch any dognaper that comes around!”

  Accordingly, about ten o’clock, the gasoline lanterns were turned out, and the little cabin was in solid darkness. Heavy clouds, promising a storm later on, had begun rolling across the sky. The air was dense and still.

  Chet and Joe opened the cabin door quietly, and led Mystery outside. After securing the dog’s rope to the railing, the two withdrew to stand guard. From within they could scarcely make out the dog in the total darkness.

  Soon afterward Frank, wearing dark clothes, slipped out the back door and stationed himself between Captain Maguire’s old car and the side of the cabin, a few steps from the porch.

  The youth sat down and waited, listening intently. Gradually his eyes became accustomed to the night. Even so, he realized that a person advancing across the clearing against the background of thick trees would be nearly impossible to see.

  The night air seemed to grow heavier and warmer. Flickers of lightning began to play about the horizon. The thunder became louder. Suddenly a streak of lightning lit up the clearing for a bare instant, then blackness closed down again. A tremendous thunderclap followed instantly. Frank checked his watch. It was nearly midnight.

  Another flash came, accompanied by a long roll of thunder. On the porch the beagle whined.

  “Storm’s almost on top of us,” Frank noted. Almost immediately came another white blaze of lightning, and a fearful crash of thunder. The first heavy drops of rain pelted down. Mystery’s whines suddenly changed to frantic, high-pitched barking.

  Distracted for a moment by the storm’s arrival, Frank hesitated an instant, then sprang forward. At that same moment Joe and Chet burst out the front door.

  Mystery was gone!

  The dog’s yelping could be heard, but the sound grew fainter. A sheet of lightning made the clearing and woods even brighter than day. Frank, Joe, and Chet caught sight of a figure fleeing swiftly down the path into the hollow.

  “After him!” Joe shouted.

  Armed with flashlights, the three boys raced in pursuit.

  CHAPTER X

  Sketch of a Thief

  SPRINTING across the clearing, Frank, Joe, and Chet entered the dark woods on a run. They were forced to slow up at once, however, in order to pick out the path with their flashlights.

  Ahead of them, the dog thief pounded forward in the darkness, apparently certain of his way even without a light. Mystery’s whimpers came back to the boys, then were drowned in a rumble of thunder. Raindrops could be heard pattering on the tree leaves overhead. In the momentary glare of lightning flashes, the three boys could see a figure ahead running swiftly downward toward the floor of the hollow.

  Suddenly, from the blackness, came a human cry, followed by the clatter of something or somebody falling among the rocks, then a heavy crashing in the underbrush. All the while Mystery barked frantically.

  Recklessly the pursuers dashed to the bottom of the path. Someone was groaning in pain in the dense underbrush to their right. The sound of running footsteps continued.

  “Joe! Chet!” Frank commanded breathlessly. “Find out what’s going on in the brush. I’ll keep after the thief!”

  “Roger!” snapped Joe.

  With flashlight beams darting here and there, Joe and Chet moved forward through the dense growth. The crashing of bushes told them their quarry was moving, too. But no more groans reached their ears. Soon they could hear nothing but the sound of the rain falling heavily on the leaves, and the claps of thunder.

  “No use. We’ve lost him,” Joe decided quickly. “Back to the path, Chet.”

  In the meantime, Frank had been able to increase his speed on the level valley floor. Hoping to catch the fleeing figure off guard, the youth no longer used his flashlight, but relied instead on the lightning’s vivid glare.

  Suddenly, as the woods was illuminated by an especially dazzling flash, Frank recognized the tall, thin figure running just thirty yards ahead with a wriggling object under one arm. “Simon!” Frank called out. “Wait!”

  But the strange boy wheeled and made a dash for the rocky side of the hollow.

  Limping slightly as though hurt, but still with amazing agility, Simon clambered swiftly upward over the rocks. Frank had almost closed the gap between them in a final spring. Bounding upward himself, he made a lunge and grasped the fleeing boy’s ankle firmly with one hand. Mystery, barking fiercely, was thrown clear. Simon, who had been dragged backward, suddenly recovered and threw himself upon Frank.

  By now the storm was at its height. The rain fell in sheets. Flickers of lightning illuminated the fierce struggle between the two boys.

  Keeping a cool head, Frank tried to subdue the boy by means of a wrestling hold. But Simon’s wet clothing and his unexpected, immense strength enabled him to wrench free, throwing Frank to the ground. Quickly Simon grabbed a heavy rock and poised it above Frank’s head.

  “Drop it!” came a sudden shout from below.

  Startled, Simon turned and the rock slipped from his grasp. Frank quickly scrambled to his feet and dived forward to make a fast, clean tackle. In another moment Joe and Chet arrived and made the capture complete.

  As Frank and Joe held onto the tall, mute boy, Chet demanded angrily, “Where’s my dog?”

  “Take it easy, Chet,” Frank warned. “Simon’s injured, and he’s frightened. Remember, he can’t answer you.”

  There was no need for Chet to hunt for Mystery. The drenched, trembling little beagle came leaping frantically and joyfully to his master.

  “Get that piece of clothesline on Mystery’s collar,” Frank directed. “We’ll tie Simon’s hands for safety, until we get him back to the cabin.”

  Slowly the three friends and their captive made their way up out of the hollow. Frank and Joe supported the limping mute boy on either side as they climbed the steep trail. Simon made no further attempt to escape.

  By the time the drenched boys reached the cabin the rain had stopped and a fresh wind was clearing away the storm clouds.

  “Mission accomplished,” Chet declared delightedly.

  “Now for something to eat, and then a nice, dry bed. What d’you say, Mystery?”

  After changing his clothes Chet went immediately to the kitchen. In a few moments he had a big pot of soup heating on the stove, then made ham sandwiches for everyone.

  Meanwhile, Frank and Joe had untied their prisoner, told him to remove his wet clothing, and given him a warm bathrobe of Captain Maguire’s to put on.

  In the brightly lighted cabin, Frank and Joe had their first chance for a close look at Simon.

  He was about fourteen, but extremely tall for his age and wiry in build. He had dark, tangled hair that had not been cut in some time.

  “That’s what makes him appear wild,” Frank thought.

  As Simon sat disconsolately, Frank examined a deep, ugly cut on the boy’s leg. “No wonder he was limping. Get the first-aid kit, Joe.”

  Though Simon watched them all suspiciously, he seemed frightened rather than savage. Both Hardys were struck by the gentle look in th
e boy’s face. When Joe returned with the first-aid kit he submitted meekly while his wound was washed and dressed. Joe applied a stinging antiseptic, but Simon barely winced with pain.

  “Don’t worry, Simon, you’ll live,” said Joe in a friendly voice as he straightened up. “And what a basketball player you’d make with your height!”

  Bewildered, the boy continued to watch the Hardys closely, as though fearing some harm.

  “Here we are, Simon,” Chet Morton called cheerily as he entered with the soup and sandwiches.

  Simon ate greedily. Chet winked at Frank and Joe, then went to make more sandwiches and bring in some doughnuts. They were soon gone.

  Chet grinned. “I’m glad to see that somebody besides me has a healthy appetite.”

  While Chet and Simon were finishing the food, Frank and Joe moved out to the kitchen.

  In a low voice Joe said, “Simon doesn’t look so fierce to me. I’m certain he’s not the person we saw spying on us in the hollow yesterday. Simon’s tall, and has long legs, but his face sure isn’t the same one we saw.”

  Frank nodded agreement. “It was Donner who told us the person was probably Simon.”

  The boys were puzzled, but had no chance to talk further, as Chet and Simon came into the kitchen.

  Chet began to play with Mystery. “Poor little pup,” he said fondly. “Old Chet won’t forget to feed you, too. No, sir. He’ll do it right now.”

  He opened a can of puppy food, dumped it into a bowl, and set it on the floor. The little dog attacked it happily.

  Simon, meanwhile, had put on his clothes, now dry from the heat of the stove. He watched Chet intently, then gave a shy, approving smile.

  “Say,” the stout boy muttered as he poked into a cupboard, “here’s some dog food. Captain Maguire must have had a dog. Wonder if he went with him?”

  Frank had noticed the mute boy’s smile. “Simon likes the way Chet treats dogs,” he thought. “Now’s our chance to find out why he stole Mystery! But how can he answer us?” he asked himself, baffled. “He can’t talk!”

  Suddenly Frank had an idea. He went back to the living room and returned with a pad of paper and a pencil which he placed on the kitchen table in front of the mute boy. Simon looked up questioningly, but without suspicion now.

  “Simon,” said Frank slowly and distinctly, “tell us—why did you run away with the dog?” At the same time he pointed to the beagle.

  The boy’s eyes looked puzzled for a minute. Then he seized the pencil and began to sketch.

  Swiftly the picture of a tall, broad-shouldered man took shape. Simon darkened in heavy eyebrows and a mustache.

  “It’s Donner!” cried Joe in amazement.

  “Wait!” Frank warned. “Simon hasn’t finished.”

  As Frank, Joe, and Chet crowded around, Simon rapidly drew the tall man’s arm and hand in the act of grasping a little dog with Mystery’s markings!

  “He’s telling us that Donner stole Mystery!” Joe cried out.

  CHAPTER XI

  The Tailor’s Clue

  “THERE’S no doubt!” Joe exclaimed. “Simon’s sketch tells us that Donner is the one who took Mystery!”

  “Wait!” Frank commanded. “He’s drawing something else!”

  With a series of swift, sure strokes, the mute boy surrounded his drawing of Donner and the beagle with sketches of various dogs—a cocker spaniel, a German shepherd, and two hounds.

  “What’s this little one he’s shading in with the pencil?” Joe asked. “A gray dog?”

  “Gray or brown,” Frank returned. “See, he’s left one ear white.”

  “Brown with a white ear—that’s Bobby Thompson’s Skippy!” exclaimed Chet. “So Donner stole Skippy, too!”

  Upon hearing the man’s name, Simon raised his head once with an angry scowl, then finished his picture by drawing a line from each dog to Donner.

  Then the mute boy stood up quickly from the table. His eager eyes showed that he had something more to communicate. He pointed to Donner’s picture, then to Mystery. Suddenly Simon crouched down behind a chair and peered out.

  “He’s trying to tell us that he was hiding—behind a tree, perhaps,” Frank interpreted.

  Simon’s one arm was tensed, with the fingers spread as though holding something heavy. “As if he’s holding a rock or club,” Frank deduced.

  Abruptly Simon leaped out from behind the chair. He struggled with an imaginary antagonist, swinging the hand that held the “rock.” Next, he seemed to clutch something else, in both arms and to be running away with it.

  “That’s Mystery he’s holding now!” Chet said excitedly. “He means he waited in ambush for Donner tonight, then hit him with a rock and ran off with Mystery himself!”

  “Oh, great!” thought the bewildered Joe. “Simon and Donner are blaming the dog stealing on each other now. Who is guilty?”

  While Frank and Chet, too, looked puzzled, Joe said aloud, “Well, there’s one thing I want to know.” He turned to Simon. “Why did you throw stones at us this afternoon?”

  Going to the table once more, Simon quickly produced sketches of three very lifelike rattlesnakes. Frowning, he looked at Frank and Joe, and made as though to push them away with his hands.

  “I get it! He was trying to warn us about those deadly snakes, not hurt us,” Frank said.

  “Well, he sure picked a forceful way to do it!” Joe rubbed his forehead ruefully. “That would mean he didn’t think we were in cahoots with Donner.”

  Frank nodded. “Simon’s given us something to work with. It seems pretty clear the self-styled hermit has been stealing dogs, and for my money, that ties him in with Captain Maguire’s disappearance, too.”

  “You think the captain went after the dognaper himself and ran into trouble?” Joe queried.

  “Well, apparently the captain had a dog,” his brother reasoned. “Now suppose Donner stole the animal and Captain Maguire traced him to the hollow. Then suppose when he got down there the captain saw something he wasn’t supposed to see.”

  “Then Donner, or somebody, had to get him out of the way because he knew too much!” Joe finished grimly. “Remember the blood we found on the leaves?”

  Absorbed in this new possibility, Frank, Joe, and Chet failed to notice that Simon had been making his way quietly toward the back door. In a moment the tall boy had slipped out into the night!

  “Hey!” called Chet. “Stop him!”

  “No, let him go,” said Frank Hardy calmly. “Simon’s on our side, all right.”

  “I just wish we could do something to help him,” Joe put in. “With his talent for drawing he might make out very well in spite of his handicap. He should go to a special art school.”

  Frank agreed, then said reflectively, “I can’t seem to get Colonel Thunder out of my mind, and his resemblance to Donner. Also, I wonder if it could be more than coincidence that the German word for thunder is donner. What do you say we find the carnival, and talk to the colonel? He just might be a relative of Donner.”

  “Suppose we drive to Forestburg in the morning,” Joe suggested. “Maybe we can learn something there about the Donner family, and find out where the carnival is. Besides, it’s about time we called Mother to see how things are in Bayport!”

  Morning dawned bright and fresh after the rain, everything seemed greener than before, and the boys’ spirits rose. Frank and Joe emerged from the cabin, followed by Chet, who cradled Mystery in his arms. But suddenly Frank stopped and frowned.

  “Oh—oh! So much excitement last night we forgot to put up the convertible top before the storm. Now look!”

  Sure enough, there were puddles on the floor of the Hardys’ car, and the seats, though protected by covers, were wet. The boys mopped up the water.

  “Let’s take Captain Maguire’s car,” said Joe. “If the captain’s enemies see it, they may think he escaped, and that will bring them into the open.”

  The three set off with Joe at the wheel, Frank beside him, and
Mystery and Chet in the rear.

  Apparently the back seat was comfortable, for by the time the car entered Forestburg, both Chet Morton and the beagle were fast asleep.

  “Let ’em alone.” Frank laughed. “Last night was too exciting, I guess. You and I can do the detective work, Joe.”

  The two boys walked a block to the courthouse. Because it was only eight o’clock, the streets had little traffic. Frank and Joe, alert with curiosity, looked around. Many stores had offices above. In one upstairs window, which Joe pointed out, was a small sign:

  WYCKOFF WEBBER

  Attorney-at-Law

  The brothers crossed the street to the courthouse. No one was at work yet.

  “Well, let’s try the stores,” suggested Joe. “Somebody here must know the Donners.”

  During the next hour the two young detectives went from shop to shop asking questions about the Donner family. Although one or two clerks or storekeepers admitted the name “sounded familiar,” nobody could give any definite information.

  “I’ll tell you what we’re up against,” said the exasperated Joe. “Some of these people are new in town, and they just don’t know the Donners. The others know them, but won’t talk to us. We’re outsiders, and they think we’re prying into local affairs that aren’t any of our business!”

  “Maybe so,” agreed Frank. “But there’s one shop I have to visit fast!” He indicated a tailor’s establishment at the end of the block.

  “What for?” demanded his brother, puzzled.

  “Just discovered,” muttered Frank, “I have a hole in my slacks—must have caught them on the rocks last night!”

  A little man with shining bald head and thin black hair at the temples greeted them across the counter of the shop. “Yes?”

  “Can you mend a pair of pants while I wait?” Frank asked him.

  The little man smiled, showing two gold teeth. “Of course. Will you come in back, please?”