Part 5 (1/2)
”It's an old family recipe,” Chet boasted.
”You mean an old family can opener?” Joe rejoined. ”I saw all those cans you brought!”
”I had to add special spices, though, and salt and pepper,” Chet said defensively. ”That's what makes it taste so good.”
When the meal was finished, Biff was elected dishwasher. ”Scrub hard and you'll develop your boxing biceps,” Chet teased. Frank volunteered to help, and soon the kitchen was in order.
The wind was howling louder now, but the interior of the cabin was snug. The boys sat in front of the briskly burning logs in the fireplace and listened to the creaking of low branches against the cabin.
”I wish we could learn what Hanleigh hopes to gain by coming to this place,” Joe mused, ”or by purchasing it.”
”One thing I'm convinced of,” said Frank. ”He wasn't studying the fireplace just for its artistic look.”
”He's certainly nervy with other people's property,” Biff remarked.
Frank nodded. ”I keep wondering if it was he who ransacked the Jefferson home.”
”Again, the question is why?” Joe said.
”I'd think you guys would be more worried about that ghost I saw p.u.s.s.yfooting around here,” Chet spoke up plaintively.
”What's more important,” said Frank, ”is that we don't forget the mystery we're supposed to solve, to find Johnny Jefferson. Joe and I believe he's hiding in this area.”
Joe added, ”I've a hunch this mystery will be solved near Bayport. Johnny is bound to run out of money, and if he looks for a job, somebody will become suspicious because he's so young.”
”Besides,” Frank said, ”if we stick to our theory that Johnny is searching for the stolen medals, we can be pretty sure he hasn't given up. Not if he's as keen on sleuthing as his grandfather says he is. As far as we know, no one has located Mr Jefferson's collection or the servant suspected of stealing it.”
Biff looked puzzled. ”I'm glad we're going to stay. But what's this talk about stolen medals and a suspected servant? You've been holding out on us.”
”Yes, explain!” Chet gave the Hardys a sideways look. ”I have a feeling that once again you two have taken me along on a double-headed mystery!”
The brothers related the story of the missing rosewood box and the priceless collection of honorary medals. As Joe told of the suspect, and of Johnny Jefferson's desire to be a detective, the storm suddenly grew in violence. Snow hissed against the windows and the sashes rattled ominously.
Then, in the distance, the boys heard a m.u.f.fled crash.
”A big tree must have gone down!” Joe exclaimed.
Frank looked at the fire. ”Let's each bring in an armload of logs before we go to bed. This is going to be a long, cold night.”
The four donned their parkas and took flashlights. Pus.h.i.+ng hard, they managed to open the back door and hurried to the woodshed. Abruptly the boys stopped and listened intently. Through the darkness and the wind-driven sleet and snow came a faint cry.
”Help!”
CHAPTER VIII.
The Mysterious Messenger STARTLED, the boys stood motionless in the swirling snow, scarcely able to believe that someone was crying for help on the dark, ice-locked island.
Then the faint sound came again above the tearing wind. ”Help!”
”Where's it coming from?” Biff asked anxiously.
”Hard to tell,” Frank replied. ”Let's fan out and make a search. Hurry!”
Each boy started off in a different direction. When the pleading cry was repeated, Joe shouted as loudly as he could, ”Fellows! This way! Down by the sh.o.r.e!”
He kept following the call for help, trudging through the blowing snow which stung his face. The flashlight's beam did not penetrate the dense whiteness, and Joe could barely see a step ahead.
Frequently he tripped over roots and nearly went sprawling.
Joe was becoming uncertain of his direction. Perhaps his ears had played tricks on him!
The young sleuth stood still until he heard the desperate voice again. ”Help!”
”This way!” shouted Joe, moving forward, certain that the cries were coming from somewhere near the boathouse.
Who could the person be? What was he doing on Cabin Island? How could anyone have crossed the ice in the violent storm? Joe beamed his light about in hopes that the other boys would find him.
All at once he realized that the surface had become level and slippery beneath his feet. ”I must have stepped onto the ice,” Joe thought, and made his way back to land. Where was the stricken person? He must be close by!
A groan came suddenly from Joe's left. Moving the flashlight in a slow arc, he called Gut, ”h.e.l.lo? Where are you?”
There was another moan, which tailed off weakly. As the youth moved towards the sound, his foot struck something soft. Joe dropped to his knees and flashed the light downwards. The beam revealed a stranger, barely conscious, his legs pinned beneath the limb of a fallen pine tree.
The man had gone face downwards and his right cheek was crunched into the snow. Joe scrutinized him, but could not place the man from what he could see of his features.
”Frank! Biff! Chet!” Joe called out again. ”Here, by the boathouse!”
Meanwhile, Joe attempted to free the victim, but all his strength could not budge the heavy branch. To lift it, the whole tree would have to be levered.
”I'll just have to wait for the others,” Joe realized, panting. He crouched alongside the man, trying to s.h.i.+eld him from the biting wind and the snow.
At last Joe saw the dim glow of flashlights moving down the slope. ”Over here!” he called. ”Hurry!”
”Joe!” came Frank's voice above the wind. ”I can see your beam now! We're coming!”
Biff and Chet were close behind Frank, and the three soon reached Joe and the stranger.
”Who is he?” Chet puffed excitedly.
”I never saw him before,” Joe replied. ”See if you fellows can hoist this branch a bit so I can pull his leg free.”
While Joe continued to shelter the man, the others laboriously managed to raise the tree limb.
”Okay - that'll do it!” Joe said, easing the victim free. ”Now let's get him to the cabin p.r.o.nto.”
As gently as possible, the Hardy boys lifted the stranger and started up the slope-Joe supporting the man's head and shoulders, while Frank carried his legs. Chet and Biff went on ahead to light the way and forge a trail through the drifting, deepening snow.