Part 8 (1/2)
Just wears sport clothes and doesn't come in here any more.”
In high excitement, Frank put on his mended slacks. ”By the way,” he asked the tailor, ”do you know where Klatch's Carnival is now? We've seen it once, but my brother here would like to see the show again.”
32 Silently the man rummaged in a wastebasket, and then handed Frank an old poster with the carnival's schedule printed on it. Elated, the boys hurried from the shop. On their way to the car Frank stopped at an outdoor telephone booth to call his mother.
”Everything's well here, Frank,” came Mrs. Hardy's familiar musical voice from Bayport. ”The latest word from Dad is that the men he's after are very clever, and he hasn't made much headway on the case.”
Laughingly, his mother added, ”lola sends her love to her brother Chet.”
”How about Joe?” asked Frank, grinning through the gla.s.s of the booth at his brother outside. Lively lola Morton was Joe's date. ”And, Mother, have you heard from Gallic lately?” Gallic Shaw was Frank's own favorite girl.
”Not a word. You boys had better not stay 95 away too long, or both girls will find other escorts.”
When Frank left the booth he found his brother staring across the street.
Directly opposite the boys was a house with a doctor's sign.
”Look who's coming down the walk!” Joe whispered. ”Walter Donner!”
Frank's eyes followed the tall man, who evidently had not seen them. Donner wore a white bandage wrapped around his head.
”Guess Simon really did hit him with a rock,” said Joe.
”Sure looks like it,” Frank replied. ”Come on! Let's see if we can find Klatch's Carnival for a talk with Donner's double. Colonel Bill Thunder may tell us something interesting!”
CHAPTER XII.
Chefs Ruse back, at the old car Chet was still asleep, but Mystery greeted Frank and Joe with excited yapping.
”What . . . ? Who . . . ?” grunted the fat boy, starting up and blinking. ”Are we still in Forestburg?”
While he sat rubbing his eyes, Frank and Joe, grinning, climbed into the front seat of the car.
”Are we in Forestburg?” repeated Joe with mock disgust. ”We've only been here two hours, that's all. And listen to this!” He related what the brothers had learned.
Chet was astounded-and also disappointed not to have been there to hear his friends' discoveries firsthand. Meanwhile, Frank had been poring over a road map. Now he started the car and headed out of town in a westerly direction.
”Say!” Chet exclaimed. ”Where are we off to now?”
”Riverville,” Frank replied, and explained that Klatch's Carnival was there.
”This back road should get us to the place in half the time the highway would take.”
With an injured look on his broad face, the stout boy sat back and folded his arms. ”So you walked out on me. You two just wait. I'll show you who's the detective around here!”
”We'll wait!” Joe chuckled.
Captain Maguire's old car seemed well suited to the narrow, badly rutted road.
Maneuvering carefully to avoid holes, Frank drove past dense woods that lined both sides. Sometimes the road followed a stream, at others it ran along ridges. There were no buildings in this area.
”We must be getting close,” observed Frank, looking at the speedometer. ”But what a place to run out of gas!”
No sooner had the youth spoken than the three friends, rounding a turn, came upon a station wagon parked on the left side of the road. The hood pointed skyward. Across each fender leaned a man in blue dungarees, his head almost invisible under the hood as both peered at the motor.
”Let's see what we can do,” said Frank, pulling over. ”We have plenty of time.”
As the boys stepped from their car a huge dog bounded swiftly toward them.
33 ”Oh, oh!” said Chet hastily. ”Better stay 98 inside, Mystery!” The big dog gave a curious but not unfriendly sniff at Frank's outstretched hand.
At the same moment one of the men raised up. He was bony and had red hair.
”Here, Blue!” he called and turned to greet the boys. ”Don't you fellows worry about Blue. He won't bother n.o.body.”
”What's the trouble?” Frank asked.
”She conked out, somehow,” the man answered with a perplexed grin. ”Just won't go!”
Joe was already peering at the engine. ”Mind if we have a look? My brother and I have done a good bit of work on motors.”
”Help yourself,” invited the other man, who wore a loud print s.h.i.+rt. ”Got to do something -can't stay here all morning!”
Somewhat puzzled at the helplessness of the two men, Frank and Joe rolled up their sleeves.
”Got any tools?” Joe asked the man.
”Nope,” the red-haired one answered. ”Wouldn't you just know it?”
”Have much trouble with her?” Frank inquired.
The man scratched his head and grinned. ”Well, now, I can't say, 'cause she's not mine. Just borrowed her, y'see, to deliver all these apples.”
”Apples?” Chet beamed, and he strolled around to the back of the station wagon, which was open. There, under a tarpaulin, were several 99 bushel baskets of big red apples. ”Mind if I try one, mister?”
”Go ahead,” the bony man called.
Thinking that the second basket held juicier fruit than one near the tailboard, Chet chose his apple from there. But as he brought his hand away he noticed there was no fruit underneath-just something wrapped in brown paper!
Instantly a wave of suspicion flooded Chet's mind. What could the two men be hiding under their apples? The stout boy pondered a moment, remembering the hijacking near the state line.
Munching loudly, he strolled back toward the others. A sign, kendrick school for boys, caught his eye on the station-wagon door. Continuing to munch idly, Chet managed to b.u.mp into Joe, who was bringing a wrench over from Captain Maguire's car.
”Oof-look where you're going!” he said loudly. In an undertone he added quickly, ”Pretend you need a part and send me to town for the police.”
Joe gave no sign, but went back to work. Still chewing, Chet strolled near.