Part 8 (1/2)
”Likewise!” Biff put in.
”Well, fellows,” Chet began sheepishly, ”I-er-forgot about this until now, but-er-we can have a snack.”
The others stared at the rotund youth, who reddened as he explained. ”When I made sandwiches for lunch, I put some away - in case of emergency!”
”Where are they?” asked Joe. ”We searched all over this place!”
Chet went into the bedroom he and Biff shared and returned with five thick sandwiches in a large plastic bag.
”Come on! Where'd you hide them?” Biff asked.
”In the bottom of my sleeping bag.”
”You weren't thinking of an emergency!” Joe scoffed. ”This was to be your midnight snack!”
”Aren't you glad!” Chet countered.
”You win,” Frank said, and they devoured the sandwiches.
Early the next morning Frank and Joe felt insistent fingers tapping them awake. ”Get up!” Chet implored.
”You have to go after groceries.”
The Hardys dressed hurriedly. Frank told Biff and Chet, ”While we're away, you might search the island for our stolen grub. Chances are that Hanleigh hid it all in one place not far from the cabin.”
Frank and Joe set off in the ice-yacht, steered out of the cove, and soon were tying up at a nearby coastal summer resort named Surfside. The boys walked to the deserted main street. ”Place is really hopping, isn't it?” Frank chuckled, surveying the tiny, weatherworn houses, many of them boarded up.
”Anyway, here's a phone.” Joe pointed to an outside booth. He stood by and listened while his brother dialled Ike Nash's number.
”No answer,” Frank reported. ”I'll try Tad.”
The Carson boy was home, but his responses to Frank's queries were rude and unco-operative.
”I don't know anything,” Tad insisted. ”Hanleigh told us to scram and not to snoop around. So we left.”
”How about a man wearing a white robe? Did you taxi him to Cabin Island too?”
”White robe? You're nuts!” Tad gufawed and hung up abruptly.
”That didn't accomplish much,” Frank said wryly as he and Joe walked away from the booth. ”Let's see if we can find a place to buy food.”
Presently the boys stopped at a small wooden building. A sign above the door proclaimed: GENERAL STORE, AMOS GRICE, PROP.
As the boys entered, a short, elderly man with a bald crown and skinny, wattled neck eyed them intently from his chair beside a black potbellied stove.
”And what might you lads be after?” he chirped.
”h.e.l.lo,” said Frank. ”We're here for some groceries. Are you Mr Grice?”
”Yep. Odd to see strange faces around these parts here this time o' year,” the storekeeper remarked.
”We're roughing it near here,” Joe told the man.
Amos Grice clucked. ”Most folks prefer sittin' by a fire when winter comes on. Well, you're out early this mornin'!”
”Necessity,” Joe replied. ”Somebody stole our supplies.”
”I declare!” The old man looked startled. ”Don't tell me there's more folks trekkin' about in all this cold and snow!”
”Seems that way.” Joe grinned as he and Frank began to pick out canned goods and other food items.
”Where'd you boys say you're stayin'?” the storekeeper asked when the Hardys brought their purchases to the counter.
”On Cabin Island,” Joe replied.
”Cabin Island!” Mr Grice repeated in surprise. ”Has Elroy Jefferson sold the place?”
”No,” Frank told him. ”Mr Jefferson is letting us use his cabin during our Christmas vacation.”
Frank paid the storekeeper, who then commented, ”Elroy Jefferson's a fine sort. Haven't seen him in a while. What's he doin'?”
”He seems to keep busy travelling and collecting antiques,” Joe replied.
Mr Grice propped his elbows on the counter and said thoughtfully, ”Elroy Jefferson used to come in here every Tuesday for supplies, and the little fellow with him. He loved Johnny like his own son. And where's the youngster nowadays?”
”We don't know, Mr Grice,” Frank answered, not wis.h.i.+ng to reveal anything about their case to the friendly but gossipy proprietor.
”Mr Jefferson was always crazy about antiques,” the storekeeper went on. ”I recall how upset he was when his medal collection disappeared.”
”Have you any idea what happened to it?” Joe asked.
”Nope. All I know is the medals disappeared and so did John Sparewell, by some mighty big coincidence.” ”Do people believe he stole the medals?” Frank asked.
”Not that I've heard. But it was odd he vanished at the same time.”
The Hardys exchanged glances but did not comment, and Grice went on: ”You know, boys, just about a week ago a fellow was in here askin' about Jefferson's medals. I hadn't thought of 'em in years, before this fellow came by. Somehow I didn't feel right to tell him a thing, so I didn't.”
”Who was this man?” Frank asked.
”Don't know. Never seen him before. He was a scary sort - dressed up like Halloween. He had somethin' wrapped around his head.”
The Hardys' thoughts flew to the ”ghost.” Joe asked, ”Do you remember anything else about the person?
Did he tell you why he was interested in the medals?”
Amos Grice wrinkled his brow. ”I got rid of that spooky fellow soon's I could.”
After a few more minutes of conversation, the boys said goodbye and left. They walked quickly towards the Seagull.
”What do you think of Mr Grice's 'scary' visitor?” Joe asked his brother.