Part 1 (1/2)
HUNTING FOR HIDDEN GOLD.
FRANKLIN W. DIXON.
CHAPTER I.
Danger in the Fog.
”SOMEBODY'S going to get hurt!” Frank Hardy exclaimed.
He and his four companions paused in the darkening woods and listened as rifleshots and loud laughter rang out from a nearby ridge.
”Careless hunters,” Frank's brother Joe said grimly.
Joe was seventeen, tall and blond, and a year younger than Frank.
”Let's go back to the cabin,” urged plump Chet Morton nervously. ”I'm hungry, anyhow.”
Lanky Biff Hooper agreed. ”We can look for a campsite tomorrow.”
”Unless Frank and Joe are called away to solve a mystery,” Tony Prito needled.
Frank chuckled. ”There's a chance we will-”
Smack! A bullet thudded into a tree an inch from Joe's head!.
For a moment there was stunned silence. Then Frank asked quickly, ”Joe, are you all right?”
His brother gulped and looked at the gash in the bark. ”I'm okay. But one inch closer-”
Biff Hooper's handsome face flushed with anger. ”I'm going after those fellows!” he declared.
As he spoke, three hunters came into view.
”Hold it!” Frank hailed them. ”You men nearly killed my brother!”
”Why don't you be careful?” Joe shouted.
”Sorry, boys,” one of the men called back casually. He and his companions did not stop; instead, they moved on through the undergrowth.
”Is that all you've got to say?” Chet bellowed.
”Forget it, kid,” another of the hunters replied. ”n.o.body got hurt.”
”Stupid sportsmen!” growled Joe as the trio disappeared. He added to his companions, ”You fellows nearly lost one business partner.”
The five boys had pooled money to build their own cabin and were exploring the deep woods north of Bayport looking for a campsite.
To relieve the tension caused by the near accident, Tony Prito said jokingly, ”We're used to the idea of losing you and Frank. Every time we start a project, you two get involved in a mystery.”
Frank and Joe were the sons of Fenton Hardy, the well-known detective. They had solved many mysteries on their own and sometimes cooperated with their father on his cases.
Biff grinned. ”Amazing! We've been here one whole day, and you Hardys are still with us!”
Frank winked at Joe. ”We may have to leave,” he admitted. ”Dad's on a case out West and we're hoping we'll get a call to go and help him.”
The others groaned, then laughed. ”In fact,” Joe added, ”we might even find a clue right around here.”
”What!” chorused the Hardys' pals.
”Remember when Frank and I inquired at the store about a man named Mike Onslow?” Joe went on, ”Dad asked us to keep an eye out for him. Onslow lives somewhere in these woods, and he may have some useful information that ties in with Dad's case.”
”Come on,” said Chet. ”Let's eat and talk later.”
The boys pushed on through the growing darkness. Fog was beginning to rise by the time they reached the edge of the clearing where their rented cabin stood. As they crossed to the crude log house, rifleshots sounded in the distance.
Chet winced. ”Those careless hunters are still at it,” he remarked.
The boys were about to enter the cabin when Joe exclaimed, ”Quiet!”
They all halted, listening intently. ”It sounded like a cry,” Joe said.
The others had heard nothing, and finally went inside.
”Hope n.o.body was shot by those fools,” Tony remarked, lighting the oil lamp.
Frank and Joe built a fire in the fireplace, while Chet started supper on a wood stove.
”This is a bad place to get hurt,” Biff said.
The boys were ten miles from the nearest town, Clintville, and the only road was steep and rutted. They had borrowed Mr. Hardy's car for the trip, but had left it in the Clintville Garage. George Haskins, owner of the town's one hotel, had rented them the cabin, and his son Lenny had driven the boys to it in his jeep.
”It wouldn't be easy to get help here,” Joe agreed.
”Dinner's nearly ready,” Chet announced. ”Bring chairs to the-” He stopped short. From the clearing outside came the sound of running feet and then a frantic hammering on the door. Tony strode over and opened it. Lenny Haskins, a lanky boy, stood in the doorway, panting.
”What's the matter?” Tony asked the youth.
”Frank and Joe Hardy have a long-distance call at the hotel,” the boy blurted, out of breath.
”From where?” Frank asked.
”Don't know,” Lenny said. ”There's trouble on the line and all I could make out was that the person would call back in an hour or so.”
”Maybe it's Dad!” Frank exclaimed.