Part 1 (1/2)
THE SECRET OF THE CAVES.
FRANKLIN W. DIXON.
CHAPTER I.
Telescope Hill Trouble.
DON'T kid me, fellows,” chubby Chet Morton said, moving his metal detector about the Hardys' front lawn. ”You can find all kinds of swell things on the beaches with this gadget.”
”Like what?” blond-haired Joe asked, winking at his brother Frank.
”Lost jewelry, money, gold-plated pens-”
Chet was interrupted by the arrival of a tall, broad-shouldered youth.
”Hi, Biff!” Frank called out. ”Chet's trying to find a treasure.”
Biff Hooper examined the new device and raised his eyebrows. ”I know just where you can use this, Chet. You might find a lot of valuable stuff.”
”Where?”
”At the Honeycomb Caves. My grandfather told me a freighter was sunk off the point during a hurricane.
Lots of stuff was washed up.”
”Just what I told you,” Chet said with a supercilious glance at the Hardy brothers.
Frank, eighteen, and Joe, a year younger, looked skeptically at their enthusiastic friends.
”There are a lot of important things to be found!” Chet burbled. ”How about the four of us going on a trip together?”
”To the Honeycomb Caves?” Joe asked. ”Sure. Why not? It's only fifty miles down the coast. Good swimming and fis.h.i.+ng there, too.”
”I'll explore the caves for hidden jewels,” Joe said dryly, ”while you and Biff pick up a million dollars'
worth of rusty nails.”
”It's a deal,” Biff said, laughing. ”Let me try that gimmick, Chet.”
The stout boy removed the earphones from his head and handed Biff the long, thin tube with a metal disk at the end.
”When you hear a loud clicking,” Chet said, ”you know that something metallic is under the ground.”
His face intent, big Biff moved about the gra.s.s with the detector. Suddenly a voice from inside the house called, ”Frank! Joel”
”Okay, Dad, we're coming,” Joe answered. He leaped up the front steps three at a time, with Frank at his heels.
Inside, Mr. Hardy, a tall athletic man, motioned his sons into his study.
Fenton Hardy's reputation as a sleuth was worldwide. A former crack New York City police officer, he had moved to Bayport to become a private detective. Now his sons seemed destined to follow in their father's footsteps.
”What's cooking, Dad?” Frank asked as the two boys sank into comfortable seats.
”Another mystery?” queried Joe.
Mr. Hardy flashed a smile, then became serious and opened a dossier before him on the desk. ”I've got important news,” he said.
”About what, Dad?” Joe asked.
”Telescope Hill.”
”Where the U. S. is erecting the Coastal Radar Station?” asked Frank.
”Exactly.”
”What's going on there?” Joe asked.
”Trouble. That's all I know so far,” Mr. Hardy replied. He told his sons that he had been deputized by the U. S. Government to aid in security at the gigantic installation designed to protect the coast of North America.
”To hunt out spies?” Joe asked.
”More likely saboteurs. There have been some strange, unexplained accidents at the site.”
”Attack from within?” Frank queried.
”Yes. Perhaps a guard. That's my guess. So I'm going to reorganize the guard security system and nip any trouble in the bud. I thought you boys might like to help.”
”Sure, Dad!” Frank said. ”Will we need disguises or anything?”
”Not exactly.”
”But,” Joe began, ”Chet wants us to-”
”That can wait,” Frank interrupted impatiently. ”Can't you see, Joe, we might be heading into a dilly of a mystery?”
Just then the quiet of the balmy June afternoon was shattered by a wild shriek in front of the Hardys'
home. Frank and Joe jumped up, startled.
”Good grief, something's happened!” Frank exclaimed.
Both boys dashed out of the house, followed by Mr. Hardy. Chet was jumping up and down on the front lawn, while Biff, looking excited, made the metal disk hover above a spot on the lawn.
”He's found a treasure!” Chet cried out. ”This thing's clicking like fury. We've really got something, Frank!”