The Viking Symbol Mystery Read online

  “The gas probably was used to fuel a plane,” Frank surmised.

  “The stolen float plane, I’ll bet!” Joe said elatedly. “Hey! This lake would be a swell landing spot—the crooks’ hideout could be right near here!”

  “Or,” Chet put in, “the gas could have been flown to another spot.”

  “We look around,” Caribou said.

  They started to circle the shore again, fanning out a hundred yards apart. Frank and Joe converged in a grassy meadow when suddenly they heard rustling in a clump of shrubs ahead.

  Stalking silently through the grass, they approached the bushes. The rustling grew louder. The brothers were about to push aside the shrubbery when Frank put his hand on Joe’s arm, restraining him.

  “Good night!” Joe gasped.

  Several yards to their right was a huge brown grizzly bear! Beside her were two small furry cubs. The Hardys stood as if frozen, hoping that the bear had not seen them. The mother bear growled, and reared up to her full five-feet height, standing upright. Her enormous head was ferocious looking, with her jaws held open and the small ears laid back flat.

  Frank took one second to notice that the beast’s long sharp claws were extended. “Head for the woods!” he hissed, pushing Joe in front of him.

  “Head for the woods,” Frank hissed

  The brothers raced off for their lives. The huge bear dropped to four legs. Though awkward and lumbering, she proved terrifyingly fast as she charged after the Hardys.

  Suddenly Caribou came crashing through the bushes. The giant trapper held his hat in one hand and a large plaid handkerchief in the other. He waved them frantically, and kept shouting, “Hey! Hey!” at the top of his lungs.

  The bear’s charge faltered as she became aware of Caribou’s actions. The huge creature swerved to her right and started to lumber in the direction of the French-Canadian. “Get up a tree, fast!” he yelled to Frank and Joe. “Go on!”

  The Hardys obeyed and shinned up the nearest trees. They clambered onto stout limbs and sat gasping for breath.

  Caribou raced off in another direction and climbed up a low-branched spruce. The mother bear padded over and began to sniff around the trunk of the tree where the trapper was perched. Suddenly there was a squeal from one of the cubs. Ears perked up, the grizzly stood still, listening. The cub squealed again. This time the mother turned and trotted back to her offspring.

  “Whew!” said Joe in a low voice.

  “That was close!” Frank whispered, expelling his breath sharply.

  The brothers remained in the trees until they saw the bear and her cubs move off in the opposite direction toward the lake.

  Frank and Joe quickly dropped to the ground. Caribou had already climbed down from the spruce and hurried to meet them. He had a wide grin on his face.

  “Plenty of excitement in my country, no?”

  “Plenty is right!” Joe exclaimed. “Grizzlies I can do without, though!”

  The Hardys thanked the veteran trapper for coming to their rescue. Caribou explained that as a rule bears are not troublesome when they have cubs.

  “Unless you get too close,” he said. “Then the mother will charge to protect her young. The best way to escape is to distract her and climb a tree. Grizzlies don’t climb.”

  Just then Chet came running up, out of breath. “What happened?” he demanded.

  Upon hearing of the adventure, Chet shuddered at his friends’ narrow escape. “I’d rather be surrounded by thieves than tangle with one of those beasts!”

  “Let’s stop for lunch now,” Caribou suggested.

  “That’s a good idea,” Frank agreed. “Running away from bears makes me hungry.”

  The trekkers dug into their rucksacks and soon were enjoying canned-meat sandwiches and tomato juice. Then, keeping a sharp lookout for more bears, the group continued their search around the lake.

  “No signs of any habitation around here,” Joe observed to his brother.

  At that moment Chet, who was a little distance ahead, beckoned to the others. When they reached him, he pointed out broad imprints in the sandy beach.

  “Looks as if heavy objects were dragged across,” Frank noted.

  “This is where the other drums were pulled out of the water!” Joe cried out.

  “Look at this!” Frank stooped to pick up a short metal object. “A wrench,” he said, turning it over in his hand. “ ‘Yellowknife Lodge’ has been stenciled onto the handle.” He handed the tool to Caribou.

  “The lodge is on north shore of Great Slave Lake,” Caribou said. “Long distance away. This may belong to hunters stopping there.”

  Frank had another theory. “Or maybe the wrench was dropped by the man called Keating who brought the fuel drums here!”

  “If so, he must be one of the gang that’s been robbing lodges in that area,” Joe deduced. “Wonder if Biff, Tony, and Sam are having any luck on the case.”

  “We’ll hang onto this wrench for evidence,” Frank said, and put the tool in his pocket.

  “S-s-sh!” Caribou broke in, holding up his hand and cocking his head to one side, listening.

  “A plane,” Joe whispered as the droning noise became louder. “We’ve been spotted!”

  Everyone stood tensely, staring at the small float plane which came into sight. Who was aboard—the thieves? The plane touched its pontoons onto the lake surface and taxied over to the group on shore.

  “Look!” Chet exclaimed. “What’s that big bright marking on the door?”

  “Bon tonnerre!” Caribou burst out. “They are not robbers! The crest on the door is for Royal Canadian Mounted Police!”

  “The Mounties!” Chet smiled in relief as the craft ran up onto the beach.

  The engine was cut. A thin, uniformed man opened the cockpit door and jumped to the ground.

  “I’m looking for Frank and Joe Hardy,” the Mountie said in a serious tone of voice.

  CHAPTER X

  An Amazing Suspect

  “I’M Frank Hardy, and this is my brother, Joe,” Frank told the Mountie. “Why do you want us?”

  “And how did you locate us?” Chet queried.

  The pilot pulled out his wallet and showed his identification card. “I’m Corporal Fergus of the Fort Smith station,” he said. “I have an urgent message for you, so I flew downriver. From two thousand feet up I spotted you walking along the beach.”

  “Has anything happened to our family?” Joe asked the officer quickly.

  “No. The message concerns the man impersonating your father,” Corporal Fergus replied. “The Edmonton police have been notified that someone else called to see Mr. Baker-Jones at the hospital. It’s thought he may be an accomplice of the impostor because Mr. Baker-Jones doesn’t know anyone around here.”

  Frank queried, “Do the police know his identity?”

  “They have investigated the Edmonton hotels,” said the officer, “and learned that a man of his description is registered in one as ‘J. C. Phillips.’ Right now they have a stake-out at the hotel and plan to follow the man as soon as he’s spotted.”

  “Two of us should be there,” Frank said seriously. “Joe, you and Chet go back to Edmonton. Caribou and I will continue our search for the thieves up here.”

  “Fine,” his brother agreed. “We’ll meet you back at Fort Smith in a couple of days.”

  “Maybe your dad’s impersonator will lead us to the stolen rune stone!” Chet said.

  “That’s possible,” Joe agreed. “Could be the stone wasn’t brought up here after all. Anyhow, we’ll have both places covered.”

  Chet looked worried. “Say, how do we get back to Edmonton?”

  Corporal Fergus stepped forward. “I’m to fly you to Fort Smith,” he said. “From there, you can get a plane to Edmonton.”

  “Swell! Thanks a million,” Joe said.

  Caribou spoke up. “Meantime, Frank and I will return to Fort Smith. We will look for thieves on the way. And travel most of the night.”


  Frank had a new idea. “When we get there, let’s rent a float plane and start a search from the air, Caribou. We might sight the stolen aircraft.”

  The Mountie shook his head skeptically. “In this area that will be like looking for a needle in a haystack! We’re working on the case, too, with not much luck.”

  “If I know my brother,” Joe said, grinning, “he’ll find the plane if it’s around.”

  Joe and Chet said good-by to Frank and Caribou, and climbed into the RCMP float plane. The two on shore watched and waved as the sleek craft turned and taxied off over the small lake. The water sprayed in tall sheets as the pontoons lifted and the plane took off, just clearing the tops of the spruce trees rimming the water.

  Frank and Caribou retraced their steps to the canoe. They carried the craft and other equipment back to Slave River and were soon headed for Fort Smith.

  Meanwhile, in the RCMP plane, Corporal Fergus pointed out the densely forested land and the snakelike outline of Slave River below.

  When they approached the Fort Smith airfield, the afternoon flight to Edmonton was in the process of loading. Corporal Fergus called over the roar of the motor, “We have to land in the river, but I’ll ask the tower by radio to hold the plane for you.”

  The control tower agreed, and after setting down, the boys took time to thank Corporal Fergus before they climbed out of the plane which had taxied to the airfield dock.

  “Lots of luck,” the corporal called out to them.

  “Maybe we’ll see you later,” said Joe as he and Chet waved good-by.

  Soon the two boys had boarded the waiting plane, which took off seconds later. The trip was fast and smooth and the boys landed at Edmonton rested and ready for more work.

  The taxi ride from the airport to the city was long and slow through heavy traffic. Joe shifted impatiently in his seat. “I hope we get there before they question that man,” he said. “I’d like to be on hand for the surprise!”

  When they finally pulled up in front of the Edmonton police headquarters, Inspector Knight was just coming out the front door.

  “Hello, boys! Glad you’re here,” he said, smiling warmly and extending his hand. “We’re going over to the hospital. Our stake-out reports that the suspect is heading there.”

  Joe was surprised. “You haven’t picked him up yet?” he asked.

  “The fellow really hasn’t done anything,” the inspector replied. “But if he goes to the hospital to see Baker-Jones again, we’ll question him.”

  Joe and Chet drove off in a police car with Inspector Knight and another officer, who was at the wheel. When they reached the hospital, the driver parked at the side entrance.

  “We’ll sit here and keep watch,” said the inspector.

  Ten minutes later he exclaimed, “There he is!”

  Inspector Knight indicated a man coming down the street toward the front of the hospital. He had a bushy black pompadour and mustache, and, the boys noticed, was walking with a distinct limp. He went slowly up the steps to the building and into the entrance lobby.

  Both officers and the two boys slipped from the car and followed quietly. Inside, they saw the stranger go directly to the reception desk and heard him ask to see Mr. Baker-Jones.

  “Your name, please?” the clerk asked politely.

  “Phillips.”

  Instantly the inspector went forward. “We’d like to ask you a few questions, Mr. Phillips,” he said.

  The stranger swung around quickly. Suddenly Joe gasped. Then he dashed up to the man and stood, stock-still, staring at him. The bushy-haired caller straightened up and smiled.

  “Joe! Chet!” he said in a familiar voice.

  Chet’s mouth flew open. “Wh-a-at! Mr. Hardy!” He gaped. “Boy oh boy! You had me fooled!”

  “But not Joe,” the detective said.

  “What does this mean?” Inspector Knight asked, greatly perplexed.

  Moving away from the reception desk, Mr. Hardy stripped off his mustache and wig. He introduced himself quickly to the Canadian police officer, then explained, “I thought I would be able to foil the rune stone crooks by coming up here in disguise—make them think I was still in Bayport.” He chuckled. “I didn’t figure on getting caught by my own son!”

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” Joe said. “Guess maybe I spoiled your plan.”

  “I doubt it,” Mr. Hardy said, putting an arm around his son’s shoulders. “You boys were really on the alert—I’m proud of you!”

  He turned to Inspector Knight. “As long as we’re both here, perhaps we can compare notes on this case.”

  “Fine, Mr. Hardy,” said the inspector. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time. Only I’m afraid my department hasn’t turned up any new leads to that impostor or to the stolen stone and money.”

  “How is Mr. Baker-Jones?” Joe asked.

  “The hospital told me this morning,” Inspector Knight replied, “that he is improving, but still in no condition to answer questions.”

  “Well, we’ll keep working on the case,” Mr. Hardy promised.

  The Bayport group said good-by to the officers, then went back to the detective’s hotel room for a conference.

  Joe told his father about the knife thrower and gave him details of the Fort Smith and Slave River trip. He explained where Frank and Caribou were and about their continuing hunt for the stolen float plane. Mr. Hardy was especially interested to hear that they had found one of the gas drums and a wrench from Yellowknife Lodge.

  Joe asked, “Dad, have you had any more news from Sam Radley?”

  “Yes,” replied the detective. “Just before I left home I had a report. Sam thinks the lodge thefts gang is still operating around Great Slave Lake. He, Biff, and Tony have traced them as far as the town of Snowdrift. That’s the last I’ve heard.”

  Joe looked thoughtful. “Dad,” he said, “I have a hunch there might be another motive behind these lodge thefts besides burglary. The gang might be using the stolen float plane for some other purpose.”

  “You have a point there, Joe,” his father agreed. “Finding the plane would be a big step in cracking the case.”

  “We’ll get back to Fort Smith as early as possible tomorrow,” Joe proposed, “and help Frank and Caribou search by air.”

  “Good,” said the detective. “I’ll remain here in case I can speak with Mr. Baker-Jones.”

  Chet offered to make reservations for a morning flight. This done, the three showered, then had a juicy steak supper.

  Afterward, Joe sent a telegram to the Hudson’s Bay Company store at Fort Smith telling Frank that he and Chet would be there before noon the next day. After a quick breakfast the following morning, Joe and Chet took the plane back to Fort Smith. When they landed, Frank and Caribou were waiting at the airport to greet them.

  “What’s new?” Frank asked.

  “Our dad has changed his name,” said Joe, grinning, and told the story.

  Frank laughed heartily.

  “I’ve arranged to rent a float plane,” he said. “It’s moored at a dock on the river.”

  “Today,” Caribou boomed, “our luck will be better! We search by air for the stolen plane.”

  Shortly afterward, with Frank at the controls, the foursome took off. Soon they were clear of the airfield and circling over and away from the town of Fort Smith. “We’ll fly a box search, south of Great Slave Lake and west of Snowdrift,” Frank announced. “Keep your eyes open for any sign of the stolen plane.”

  The four were silent as they peered intently out the windows. They flew for an hour in the planned pattern. Not one of the searchers spotted the slightest clue to the missing craft.

  “Bon tonnerre!” Caribou burst out finally. “These woods are too thick to see into!”

  The plane droned on, over one small lake after another. Chet’s head was nodding sleepily when Joe called out, “I see something!” He pointed to an L-shaped body of water. “There’s the plane!”

  “Sacrebleu!” Caribou
thundered. “We find it!”

  The young pilot banked the light plane around and they went down low, retracing their course over the lake. The craft Joe had sighted was resting in the middle of the water. The trees at the edge of the lake were tall and the undergrowth thick.

  “It’s going to be tricky to land down there,” Frank said, circling again. “But here goes!”

  He cut the engine enough to sideslip the plane over the high trees and onto the surface of the lake. As they straightened out for the downwind leg of the approach, Joe suddenly shouted to Frank.

  “It’s just an old wreck! One of the wings is in the water!”

  “We’re already committed to this landing,” Frank told him. “We’ll have to go ahead.” The plane continued to drop into the landing position. Frank lowered the rudder and started pulling the throttle back.

  Suddenly Caribou shouted, “Watch out! Logs!”

  Directly beyond and just under the surface of the water, they could see a twisted tangle of rough logs. The float plane was heading right for them!

  Frank jammed the throttle ahead, then eased back on the stick gradually.

  “Too much lift will throw us into a stall,” he told himself.

  From behind came Chet’s frantic cry. “The trees! Watch the trees!”

  Frank’s brow glistened with perspiration as he manipulated the stick gently. The dark woods loomed up ahead of them as their old plane climbed slowly. The boys gritted their teeth and Caribou clenched his seat belt until his knuckles grew white.

  Would they gain altitude in time to avoid a crash?

  CHAPTER XI

  Surprise Tactics

  “HANG on!” Frank shouted, holding the throttle hard ahead.

  The plane banked sharply on its side. As the towering black-green spruce trees loomed up at them, the three passengers braced themselves for a collision.

  But the old craft responded instantly and slipped across the trees, riding on the left wing. The boys could hear the boughs scrape the underside of the plane. The floats jerked as they were caught momentarily, then released by the tree-tops.