Part 10 (1/2)

Quickly he lashed it around his waist and yelled, ”Haul away!”

As Frank and Mr. Fenwick pulled hand over hand on the line, Joe braced his legs against the rock wall and literally ”walked” up the cliff with their help. When he came up over the edge, Frank gripped the back of Joe's jacket and rolled him to complete safety.

115 At sight of Joe's blood-covered face, Frank asked in concern, ”Are you hurt badly?”

Joe managed a grin. ”I guess I look worse than I feel. It's mostly my pride that's hurt. I should have watched for that mother hawk. Thank goodness she finally returned to her nest.”

”You learned the hard way,” Mr. Fenwick remarked, then pointed out a mountain stream in which Joe could wash the blood from his face. ”I feel it was my fault. We're lucky it ended so well.”

Joe said, ”Forget it. But how about my taking a look at the falcon you brought up? I'd like to see one one fledgling, anyway!” fledgling, anyway!”

The falcon's tail and wing feathers were short because the bird was so young. Small tufts of down clung to them. The young bird's feet were a light greenish gray instead of brilliant orange like the adults'.

Both Frank and Joe noticed how large the feet were. They were already fully grown, even though its feathers were still developing.

The thing that amazed them most was that the young falcon was brownish black instead of blackish blue like their own hawk. Mr. Fenwick explained that the young birds never have the same plumage color and markings as the adults.

”Next spring this bird will begin to molt-that is, drop her old feathers and grow new ones.

These will be the adult plumage like your peregrine's.”

”Is that true for all hawks?” Joe asked.

116 ”Yes,” Mr. Fenwick replied, as he put the young falcon back in the pack to begin the return journey to the Fenwick home.

When they reached there, Mr. Fenwick gave Joe an antiseptic patch to cover the cuts on his face. Then the boys left the falconer, who extended a cordial invitation to return soon.

Back at their own house, they found Sam Radley waiting for them. He was seated in the garden with Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude. The falcon sat on the perch beside them.

”Good night! What happened to you, Joe?” Radley exclaimed, seeing the boy's swollen cheek with the bandage on it. Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude expressed horror when told of the accident.

”You might have been killed!” Aunt Gertrude stormed. ”There ought to be a law against taking young hawks, then boys like you wouldn't be tempted to do such foolish things!”

Mrs. Hardy examined the wounds but felt that no further treatment was necessary.

”Nature will take care of it now,” she said.

As Radley began his report, the two women arose and went into the house.

”No one returned to the hunting lodge and I doubt that anyone will, since they'll figure it's being watched. I did learn something of importance, though. As I was leaving Smith's woods, I met Mr. Morton. He asked me to give you this message. Mr. Smith's lawyer told him that the woods were leased 117 for the summer to a dark-skinned man by the name of Sutler. I have a feeling the name is a phony and that we'll find he's one of our Indian boys.”

Frank and Joe whistled. This was indeed important information!

At that moment a special-delivery letter arrived for the boys from the Mediterranean Line. It stated that no Indians had arrived on any of their vessels' recent trips to New York.

”This information may interest you, however,” the letter went on. ”A couple of years ago there was an Indian member of the Continental's Continental's crew named Bangalore. He jumped s.h.i.+p. crew named Bangalore. He jumped s.h.i.+p.

This company is particularly disturbed, because the Immigration authorities hold us responsible for such things.”

As he folded the letter, Frank said, ”I wonder if we could get a photograph of this Bangalore. Maybe we could dig one up through the steams.h.i.+p company.”

”I'll try to locate one,” Radley offered.

Frank then told Radley of the clue picked up from Mr. Newton about the pigeon fancier using the name Bhagnav, and the boys' decision to phone Mr. Delhi about it. Joe put in a long-distance call, but there was no answer at Mr. Ghapur's home, where the emissary was staying.

”Well, anything more I can do for you boys?” Radley asked. ”Of course I'll continue to keep an eye on the lodge.”

Frank and Joe could think of nothing else. They 118 mentioned Kane's shadowing the Daisy K's Daisy K's crew and that they expected a report from crew and that they expected a report from him soon.

”And I think we should talk to the Coast Guard,” Frank remarked.

”I did that while I was waiting for you,” Radley said. ”The local men have found nothing suspicious on boats or s.h.i.+ps in the area they cover. Of course they don't go out too far beyond the twelve-mile limit. Does that suggest anything to you?”

”You bet it does!” Joe spoke up. ”For one thing, it seems to back up our idea that a large steamer anchors offsh.o.r.e, receives some sort of signal-or maybe sends its own message by carrier pigeon. Then the smuggled Indians are taken off in boats like the motor dory we trailed last night.”

”But why couldn't the Coast Guard fly out there and spot such a transfer?” Frank pointed out. ”Then, when the dory reaches our waters, it could be nabbed.”

”I suppose they might,” Radley agreed. ”But if the smuggled Indians swam a distance from a large s.h.i.+p to the smaller boat at night, the Coast Guard sure would have trouble spotting them.”

”And it's impossible for them to cover every bit of sh.o.r.e line along Bayport at once,”

Frank added with a grin, ”especially at night when a dory could slip in. It might even be that the aliens swim in the last half mile.”

After Radley left, Frank and Joe talked over their 119 next move. ”I suggest that we use Miss Peregrine for a little sleuthing,” Frank said.

”How?”

”Let's take the falcon out to Chet's farm and have George Simons meet us there with his copter. It's a shorter drive for us there than to the airport and maybe Chet would like to go along. We'll go up in the egg beater and keep watch for a pigeon coming from the ocean and heading southwest. If we spot one, we'll follow it until the bird starts down to its cote.

Then we'll turn the falcon loose and let her trail the pigeon right to its cote. That way we ought to be able to locate the hide-out, and also intercept any message it may be carrying.”

”You mean we'll kill two clues with one bird?” Joe grinned, then added, ”What say we try it right now?”

”You feel okay?”

”Sure.”

Frank first phoned Chet, who said, ”Count me in. I sure would like to go along.”

Then Frank called George Simons, who agreed to meet them at the Morton farm in half an hour. Joe got the hawk's equipment, hooded and wristed her, and the boys drove off.

When they reached the farm, the helicopter was already settling in an open area behind the barn. The boys headed for it at once to tell Simons their plan.

Chet, seeing them from the kitchen window, came 120 outside and followed them. As he ambled past a corner of the barn, a masked figure moved up behind him. Before Chet could whirl around, his arms were pinned behind his back and a hand was clamped over his mouth!

In a low, fierce whisper, the masked man ordered, ”Bring that falcon to your barn and leave it there. If you don't, you and the Hardys will be in serious trouble! And don't tell anyone why you're doing it!”