Hunting for hidden gold

Frank looked up at his brother.

"This is what we wanted," he said jubilantly. "They've had the gold hidden there all the time. All we have to do now is find the Lone Tree Mine and we'll recover the stuff in no time."

"Unless the outlaws have taken it away by now," pointed out Joe.

"That's right, too. I hadn't thought of that. They may have taken it away right after they abandoned this camp. Well, we've just got to take our chances on that. If they've left it in the mine this long they may think it's safe enough there a while longer." Frank got up from the bunk and stuffed the notebook into his pocket. His eyes were sparkling with excitement. "Joe, I believe we're on the right track! We know just where the stuff has been hidden and I've a hunch it's there yet. We haven't any time to lose. Let's start right now, before those rascals get ahead of us, and hunt for the Lone Tree Mine."

"Why, I'll bet I know where that is!" declared Joe. "Don't you remember an old mine working near where they caught us the other day? There was a big pine right by the top of the shaft, standing all by itself."

"I'll bet that's the place! Come on! We'll try it, anyway!"

Hastily, they left the little cabin. They were sure now that they were on the trail of the hidden gold. Frank remembered the lone pine tree that Joe had mentioned; it seemed to identify the abandoned working as the place they sought.

It was snowing heavily as they started down the trail but the boys scarcely noticed it in their excitement. They even forgot that they had not had their lunch.

"If the outlaws haven't beaten us to it," declared Frank, "we'll have that gold before the day is out!"

CHAPTER XVIII

The Blizzard

The Hardy boys set off down the trail at a good pace. The wind howled down from the crags and whistled through the trees. The entire mountain was veiled in a great mist of swirling snow and, as the wind rose, the snow stung their faces and slashed against them.

"Storm coming up," said Frank, burying his chin deeper into his coat collar.

"I hope it doesn't get any worse. We'll never find the place."

"We won't give up now. If we wait until to-morrow it may be too late."

The storm grew rapidly worse. The snowfall was so heavy that it obscured even the tops of the great masses of rock and it quickly drifted over the trail so that the boys were forced to follow the path by memory. This was difficult, as in some places the trail had wound about through tumbled masses of boulders and when it was hidden by snow they had to guess at its intricate windings. Several times Frank lost it altogether, but he was always able to pick up the trail again in some place that was sheltered from the storm.

The boys struggled on in silence. The wind was increasing in volume and the snow was so heavy that Joe could scarcely see the dim form of his brother but a few yards ahead. Suddenly he saw his brother stop.

"I've lost the trail!" shouted Frank, turning back.

They were standing ankle deep in snow. There was not the slightest vestige of a path. High above them they could discern the gloomy mass of a steep rock cliff and before them loomed a sloping declivity of rock that afforded not the slightest foothold.

"I lost the trail farther back, but I thought I was following it all right and could pick it up farther on. We'll have to turn back."

They retraced their steps. So furiously was it snowing that their own footprints were almost obliterated and they could scarcely find their way back to the place where they had left the trail. They found it again, however, and struck out in another direction.

It was growing bitterly cold, and although they were warmly clad they began to feel the effect of the chill wind that swept down from the icy mountain slopes. They pulled their caps down about their ears and made their way slowly forward against the terrific wind that buffeted them and flung sheets of snow against them.

Frank gave a shout of triumph when he finally picked up the trail again in the shelter of some huge rocks where the snow had not yet penetrated. They advanced with new courage.

At length they emerged through the defile where the trail to the outlaw's deserted camp led off the main trail up the mountain, and then they rested.

Far below them they could see the slope of the mountain, veiled in sweeping banners of snow that shifted and swirled madly in the blustering wind. The town was hidden from view, obscured by the white blizzard.

"Do you think we should try to make it?" asked Frank.

"The mine?"

"Yes."

"You're leading this procession. Whatever you want to do."

"If you think the storm is too bad, we'll start for the cabin."

"What would you rather do?"

"I hate to give up now," replied Frank, after a moment of hesitation.

"I feel the same way about it," Joe said. "I vote we try to find the mine. Once we get there we'll be able to get in out of the storm, anyway."

"I thought you'd say that," laughed Frank. "We'll head for the Lone Tree Mine then. As far as I can remember it is just below us, and then over to the right."

"We'll find it, I guess."

They started down the slope. But once they left the shelter of the rocks where they had rested they found that the fury of the storm was increased tenfold on the mountainside. The full force of the blizzard struck them.

The wind shrieked with a thousand voices. The snow came sweeping down on them as though lashed by invisible whips. The roar of the storm sounded in their ears and the fine snow almost blinded them.

"It's worse than I thought," muttered Frank.

The slope was steep and precipitous. They could not distinguish the details of the trail other than as a vaguely winding path that led steadily downward. Frank lost his footing on a slippery rock and went tumbling down the declivity for several yards before he came to a stop in a snowbank. He got to his feet slowly and limped on, suffering from a bruised ankle.

The trail wound about a steep cliff and he skirted the base of it, then disappeared between two high masses of rock. Joe could dimly see the figure of his brother, and he hastened on so as not to lose sight of him.

But when Joe came around the rocks he was confronted by an opaque cloud of snow, like a huge white screen that had dropped from the skies. He could not see Frank at all.

He followed the trail as well as he could, but in a few moments he came to a stop. He was out on the open mountainside and the winds at this point converged so that the snow seemed to be swirling about him from all sides. The faint trail had been wholly obliterated.

He shouted.

"Frank! Frank!"

But the wind flung the words back into his teeth. A feeling of panic seized him for a moment, but he quickly calmed himself, for he realized that when Frank looked behind and saw they were separated, he would retrace his steps.

He went on uncertainly a few paces, until it occurred to him that he might be wandering in the wrong direction and that if Frank did turn back he might not be able to find him. So he tried to return to the trail again. But the snow was falling so heavily by now that he seemed to be wandering in an enormous grey void, from which all direction had been erased.

He was hopelessly lost, so he stood where he was and shouted again and again. There was no answer. He could only hear the constant howling of the wind, the sweep and swish of snow.

Once he thought he heard a faint cry from far ahead, but he could not be sure, and although he listened intently he could hear it no more.

As he stood there on the rocks, with the snow sweeping down on him and with the wind howling about him, with only the gaunt, gloomy shapes of the boulders looming out of the heavy mist of storm, Joe felt the icy clutch of the cold and he began to beat his arms against his chest so as to keep warm. He knew the danger of inaction in such a blizzard.

Anything was better than remaining where he was. He struggled forward, slipped and fell on the rocks, regained his feet, and moved slowly on into the teeth of the wind. He did not know whether he was following the trail or not but, to the best of his judgment, he tried to descend the slope.

As for Frank, he had been plunging doggedly on through the storm, confident that Joe was close behind, and it was not until he had gone far down the trail that he became aware that his brother was not following. He turned, and when he could no longer discern the figure in the storm behind he retraced his steps, shouting at the top of his lungs.

There was no answer.

He searched about, going to left and right of the trail. He did not dare go far, being fearful of losing the trail himself. Frank was alarmed lest Joe had slipped and fallen on the rocks and injured himself. If he were unable to proceed he would freeze to death, lying helpless on the mountainside.

With this thought in his mind, he searched frantically. He tried to follow back up the trail, but the snow had swept over his footsteps and he soon found himself knee-deep in a heavy drift and he knew he had lost the path.

He tried to regain the trail, but the white screen of snow was like a shroud over the rocks and he had lost all sense of direction.

He floundered about in the snow aimlessly, but the trail constantly evaded him. Frank set his jaw grimly and went hither and thither, stopping every little while to shout. He knew that the wind drowned out his voice and he realized the futility of his cries, but still he hoped that there was just a chance that Joe might hear him.

Frank Hardy felt an overpowering sense of loneliness as he wandered about among the rocks and the deep drifts. He seemed to be alone in a world of swirling, shrieking winds and flailing snow that stormed down from a sky of leaden hue.

He shouted again and again, but to no avail.

It was mid-afternoon, but the sky was so dark that it seemed almost dusk. If darkness fell and they were lost out on the mountain there was little hope that they would survive until morning. They would perish from exposure.

"I'd better go back to Hank Shale's place and get a searching party to come up and look for Joe," he thought.

This seemed the only sensible solution. But when he turned and tried to find the trail down the mountain again he found that it eluded him. There was not the vestige of a trail, not the sign of a path.

"And I'm lost too!" he muttered.

The wind shrieked down from the rocks. The snow swirled furiously about him. The blizzard raged. The roaring of the storm drummed in his ears as he stumbled and floundered about among the rocks and snow.

The Hardy boys were lost, separated, in the storm.

CHAPTER XIX

The Lone Tree

Suddenly, Frank Hardy had an inspiration.

In the shelter of some rocks he cleared away the snow, then began to search about for wood in order to build a fire. If he were lost the best plan was to build a fire which would serve the double purpose of keeping him warm and possibly guiding Joe toward him as well.

He found some small shrubs and stunted trees and managed to break off enough branches to serve as the basis of a fair-sized blaze. He had matches in a waterproof box in his pocket, and after several unsuccessful attempts he finally managed to get a fire going. The wood was damp, but the small twigs caught the blaze and within a few minutes the flames were leaping higher and higher and casting warmth and radiance.

Frank crouched beneath the rocks and warmed himself by the fire. Once in a while he got up and went away to search for more wood to cast on the blaze. Occasionally he peered through the screen of snow in the hope of seeing some sign of Joe. At intervals, he shouted until he was hoarse in the hope of attracting his brother's attention.

The flames leaped up in the wind and as he piled more wood on the blaze the fire grew brighter. It was in a sheltered spot where the gusts of snow could not quench the flames.

At last he thought he heard a faint shout.

Frank sprang to his feet. He gazed through the shifting veil of snow that swirled about his shelter, but he could see nothing. Then he called out:

"Joe!"

The fire roared. The wind shrieked. Snow slashed against the rocks above him.

Then, out of the inferno of wind and snow he heard the shout again, and a moment later he caught sight of a dim figure plunging toward him. He ran forward.

It was Joe. He was almost exhausted and he was blue with cold. He staggered over toward the blaze and collapsed in a heap beside the fire.

"Thank goodness I saw the flames!" he gasped. "I was almost all in. I couldn't have gone another step."

"I thought I'd never find you. I hunted all over."

"I got lost. I couldn't find the trail."

"We're both lost now. I got off the trail myself when I was looking for you."

"I don't much care where we are so long as we're together again and we have a fire."

Joe extended his trembling hands to the blaze. In a short while he ceased shivering, and as the warmth pervaded his chilled body his spirits rose.

"That fire was a lucky thought," remarked Frank. "I was cold and it just occurred to me that you might see a fire through the storm even if you couldn't see me."

"I just caught a faint glimpse of it—just like a little pink patch shining through the snow. I was just about to give up and lie down on the rocks when I saw it."

"You'd have died of exposure."

For a while the two lads were silent as they thought of how narrowly the blizzard had been cheated of its victim. Then, when Joe had become warmed by the fire, they began to consider their course of action. Frank looked out at the storm.

"The wind seems to be dying down a bit," he said. "I can see farther down the mountain now than I could a while ago."

"Think we ought to start home?"

"Do you feel well enough now?"

Joe got to his feet.

"Sure. I feel fine now. There's no use staying up here until nightfall. This storm may last a couple of days."

"All right. Let's go."

They stamped out the fire and resumed their journey down the mountain. They stayed close together this time, taking no chances on again being separated. As Frank had noticed, the wind had indeed lost much of its fury, although it still howled and blustered on the mountain slope, and the snow still fell steadily in a drifting cloud. The trail was almost obscured by the snowdrifts but Frank was able to find and follow it and they finally reached the place where they had turned off toward the abandoned mine workings several days before.

Here they hesitated.

"What do you think?" Frank asked.

"Now that we're so close to the mine I think we may as well go on with our search."

"I was hoping you'd say that. It shouldn't take us more than an hour or so and it isn't dark yet. Besides, we have our flashlights."

"I haven't mine. But one's enough. Go ahead. It shouldn't be hard to find the Lone Tree from here."

Frank turned off the trail. He headed directly toward the old mine workings they had previously visited and from which he remembered having seen the lone pine tree. The snow was deeper than they had expected and they ploughed through drifts up to the waist. They went on, however, and in a short while reached the abandoned mine of their harrowing experience underground. Here they paused.

"The lone tree was over to the right, I think," said Joe.

They peered through the storm. They could see nothing but drifting snow and the dull masses of the rocks. A shift in the wind raised the curtain of storm for a moment and then, like a gloomy sentinel, they saw the tall pine tree, solitary against the bleak background of grey.

"That's it!"

Now that their goal was definitely in sight they felt invigorated, and they hastened on through the snow toward the tree with new vitality. Forgotten for the moment was their weariness and exhaustion, the cold and the snow, in the lure of the gold that they felt sure lay somewhere in the neighborhood of that lonely tree.

Stumbling and plunging through the snow, they reached their goal at last. The tree creaked and swayed in the wind, and as they stood beneath it they saw that they were standing on the verge of a deep pit that seemed to have been scooped out of the earth by giant hands. There were a few ramshackle ruins of old mine buildings near by. The roofs had long since fallen in and the buildings sagged drunkenly. At the far side of the bottom of the pit, clearly discernible against the snow, they saw the wide mouth of a cave.

"That must be the shaft opening," said Frank. "We're on the track now."

The boys descended into the pit. The going was precarious, for the rocks were slippery and the snow concealed crevices and holes, so that they were obliged to proceed cautiously. But at length they reached the bottom and made their way across to the mouth of the cave.

Frank produced his flashlight as he prepared to enter.

"Stick close behind," he advised his brother. "We don't know what we're liable to run into here."

The snow flung itself upon them and the wind shrieked with renewed fury as they left the unsheltered pit and entered the half darkness of the cave mouth. It was as though they were entering a new world. They had become so accustomed to the roaring of the gale and the sweep of the storm that the interior of the passage seemed strangely peaceful and still.

The flashlight sliced a brilliant gleam of light from the blackness ahead.

Step by step they advanced across the hard rock. The dampness and cold became more pronounced. As they went on the passage widened and in a few minutes they found themselves in a huge chamber in the earth, a chamber that extended far on into darkness, and they could not see the opposite walls.

A curious rustling sound attracted their attention as soon as they entered the place, and Frank stood still.

"What was that?"

They remained motionless and silent. Away off in the darkness of this subterranean chamber they could hear a scuffling and rustling, and sounds that the boys judged were caused by pattering feet. Frank directed the beam of the flashlight toward them, but the light fell short and they could see nothing.

They advanced several paces. The rustling sounds became multiplied. Then, suddenly, Frank caught sight of two gleaming pinpoints of light glowing from the blackness.

"What's that light?" asked Joe.

"I don't know. I'm going closer."

Frank stepped forward again. As he did so, instead of two pinpoints of light, he saw two more, then two more, until at least a dozen of those strange glowing green spots shone from the darkness, reflected in the glow from the flashlight.

"Animals," he said quietly to Joe.

At the same instant he heard a low, menacing snarl.

The glowing greenish lights began to move rapidly to and fro. Into the radiance of the flashlight shot a lean, grey form that disappeared as swiftly as it came.

A prolonged and wicked snarling rose from the gloom. Frank glanced to one side and saw that two of the greenish lights had moved until they were circling behind him. He leaped back.

"We'd better get out of here!" he said. "Those are wolves."

But when the boys turned to retrace their steps they were confronted by a lean form that barred their way to the cave entrance, and in the glow of the flashlight they saw two greenish eyes that glowed fiendishly and two rows of sharp white teeth bared in defiance.

CHAPTER XX

Down the Shaft

Frank Hardy swung the flashlight, and the wolf before them sprang back, snarling ferociously, into the darkness. The pattering of feet at the back of the huge cavern became more insistent. The boys were conscious of those greenish eyes all about them. The wolves were circling around the cave.

Another wolf joined the animal that barred the entrance. By some animal cunning, they seemed to realize that by so doing they could entrap their prey. The Hardy boys knew that they had wandered into a veritable den of timber wolves who had found in this abandoned mine an ideal refuge and shelter, who had probably made the place their own for years.

The wolves drew closer. The circle was narrowing. The animals were beginning to pace about the cave in long strides, drawing in toward the boys as the circumference of the circle grew smaller.

"Keep the flashlight on," said Joe. "They're afraid of the light."

Frank kept turning slowly about, keeping the glare of the flash full on the circling wolves, and every time its radiance illuminated a gaunt grey form the animal would leap back, snarling, into the shadows.

But as quickly as the light was turned away from one side, the wolves on the other side of the circle would grow bolder and come closer. It was inevitable that in a few minutes the lads would be torn to pieces.

Suddenly Frank thought of the revolver they had seized from Slim Briggs. It was still in his pocket and he had forgotten all about it until this time. With his free hand he reached for the weapon.

Slowly he withdrew it. Then, turning the flashlight directly on one of the snarling beasts, he took aim and fired.

The animal dropped in his tracks with a yelp of pain, and instantly the ranks of the wolves were broken as they fled howling to the darkest corners of the cavern. The stricken wolf writhed and snarled wretchedly for a moment, then lay still.

The boys edged back toward the entrance, but before they could reach it a grey form shot across the circle of light and barred the way with a snarl of defiance. Again they were trapped. Frank fired at the animal. The shot went wide and the brute slunk back, but still remained in the passageway. Two or three of the other animals came rushing out of the darkness and pounced on the body of the dead wolf, tearing at the flesh with savage jaws. For a while the cave echoed with growls and snarls as the animals set about their hideous meal, and then the revolver crashed forth again and another wolf toppled over dead.

"Three shells left," said Frank.

"Save them. We'll take a chance on getting out."

But the chance appeared to be a slim one. More wolves had joined their leader at the entrance, and it seemed impossible that the boys could ever make their escape that way.

The wolves began to advance. The leader came forward, showing his teeth. His eyes glowed like spots of green flame.

Step by step, the boys retreated.

The animals appeared to have overcome their fear of the flashlight. They no longer slunk into the shadows when its fierce glare was turned on them. Instead, they came forward boldly, with dripping, gleaming jaws.

"I'm afraid we're trapped," declared Frank.

"We'll die fighting, anyway. I wish I had a gun."

"Wouldn't be much use against this pack."

"Turn your flash and see if there isn't any other way out of this place except the way we came in."

Frank turned the light swiftly about toward the walls back of them and in the radiant gleam the boys saw a narrow passage, like a dark splotch against the rock, just a few feet away.

"That looks like our only chance."

"We'll try it, anyway. It seems to lead back into the wall quite a distance."

"It may be all right—as long as we don't run into another wolf den."

"Those brutes will follow us."

"The whole pack can't get into that narrow tunnel, at any rate. We'll have a better chance of fighting them off." Frank turned the light swiftly on the dark passage again. "You try it first. They may try to rush us when they see us getting away."

They backed up as close to the opening in the rocks as they could. The wolves were very near now. Three of them had thrust their cruel heads directly into the circle of light from the flash. Their vicious snarling echoed throughout the cave. Frank sensed that they were preparing to spring.

"Quick!" he urged his brother.

Joe leaped and scrambled into the opening.

At the same instant the foremost wolf crouched for a spring. There was not a second to lose. Frank leveled the revolver and fired.

His aim was true. Halfway in the air the animal gave a convulsive twist of its body and crashed on to the rocks. It writhed in its death agony, snarling ferociously and snapping at everything within reach, until it finally lay still.

The respite was just what the boys needed. The other wolves slunk back, discouraged by the loss of their leader. Frank knew, however, that it would be but for a moment. He backed into the passage with Joe.

The tunnel was narrow, but high enough to permit them to move about without crouching. They were unable to light their way, as Frank needed the flashlight turned before him in order to frighten back the wolves. For a moment the animals seemed to hesitate, as though fearing a trap and then the foremost wolf cautiously entered the tunnel in pursuit of its prey.

The boys backed slowly down the tunnel, which descended on a slope. They did not know where it led, they could not see, but they knew they must keep backing away from the wolves.

"We're up against it if this is a blind alley," declared Joe, in a low voice.

"We're up against it if we stop and try to fight it out."

Step by step they moved backward, and step by step the foremost wolf pursued them.

The animal was more cowardly than the leader that had been killed. He did not advance boldly, but slunk along, pressing to the side of the tunnel as though trying to evade the dazzling gleam of light that shone in his eyes. Now and then he snarled viciously, showing his teeth.

"Are any of the wolves following him?" asked Joe, from the darkness.

"I can't see any. This brute seems to be alone."

"How about taking a shot at him?"

"What's the use? Even if I did kill him, we'd only run into the rest of them when we went out into the cave again. I'm not going to use this gun again unless I absolutely have to."

The brothers continued their weird journey. The tunnel was damp and chilly. The floor was rocky and uneven, and Frank was in constant dread lest he trip and fall. It would be all up with them then. The wolf would not lose a second in taking advantage of such an opportunity. So, stepping backward, they retreated farther and farther down the passage, watching the grey form that constantly followed, never gaining on them, but never falling back.

"I wonder how long this tunnel is?" Frank muttered.

"Can't last forever," said Joe, with an attempt at cheerfulness. "I think I feel a draft of cold air at my back."

"It doesn't lead outside, that's certain. If it did it would be sloping upward."

There was a low snarl from the wolf. It advanced farther into the circle of light. The brute had evidently decided that the light was not particularly dangerous, and was growing bolder.

Frank tightened his grip on the revolver. The animal was preparing for a rush.

The gaunt grey form gathered itself together and came directly at him.

Frank pressed the trigger.

The revolver crashed forth, awakening thunderous echoes in the narrow tunnel. The wolf gave vent to a howl of pain and fury, but although its onward course was checked for a moment and it swerved to one side it did not fall back. The bullet had not found a vital spot. Maddened by pain, the animal came on again.

The boys scrambled back. The wolf leaped. Frank flung himself to one side and the great body brushed against him. He struck out with the revolver and felt the weapon strike against flesh. Again he pulled the trigger, with the barrel of the weapon directly against the animal's hide, and then he sprang farther back into the tunnel.

Behind him he heard a shout. It seemed curiously far away. He retreated another step.

His foot did not find the solid rock. Instead, he stepped back into space. For an instant he wavered, clutching vainly at the air. Then he lost his balance, staggered backward, and then felt himself falling on downward into utter darkness.

CHAPTER XXI

Underground

Frank Hardy could not have fallen more than ten or twelve feet, but he had the sensation of having dropped from an enormous height. The unexpectedness of it took his breath away, and when he finally crashed into a heap of earth and gravel with a jolt that jarred every bone in his body he could only lie there in the darkness and wonder that he was still alive.

Then, to his relief, came a voice from close at hand.

"Are you all right, Frank?"

"That you, Joe?"

"You didn't expect to find anybody else down here, did you?" asked Joe, with a chuckle.

"I'm all right. No bones broken. How about you?"

"I'm shaken up a bit, but I'm all right. Thank goodness I didn't land on my head."

"What on earth happened?"

"We must have stepped right back into the main shaft of the mine. That passage we were in was a drift that went right through to the cave. We're at the bottom of the shaft now, I guess."

Frank had still retained his grasp of the flashlight. Fortunately it had not been broken in the fall and when he switched it on the welcome glow of light again pervaded their prison.

High above them they could see a patch of snow-white sky, sharply outlined by the rectangular shaft-head. A crude ladder ascended the side of the shaft. They could see the black patch that marked the entrance to the drift from which they had fallen, and from it emanated growls and snarls of rage and pain.

"That beast won't follow us any farther. I guess that was why the wolves were so doubtful about chasing us in there. They steer clear of that tunnel," ventured Frank.

"Lucky for us we hit the shaft when we did. That wolf would have been all over us in two more seconds. He'd have made mincemeat out of both of us. I thought sure we were done for, and then I stepped back—wow! I thought I was falling clean through the earth."

"Me, too. I couldn't imagine what had happened. I thought the bottom of the tunnel had given way on us."

"Good thing the shaft isn't any deeper. We'd have saved our lives by escaping from the wolf and broken our necks by falling down the shaft."

"We're lucky. But now we're down here, what are we going to do about it?"

Joe pointed to the ladder.

"We can get to the surface easily enough now."

"But if this is the main shaft we ought to be able to find our way to the blue room mentioned on that map."

"No use backing out now that we've come this far. I'd almost forgotten what we'd come for."

Frank got to his feet. He was not seriously injured by the fall, although he had wrenched one knee. But he was able to walk without much difficulty. He explored the bottom of the shaft with the flashlight. Almost directly across from them he found the entrance to the tunnel indicated on the map he had discovered in the outlaw's notebook.

"Here we are!"

To refresh his memory he drew the notebook from his pocket again and the boys studied the map once more.

"This passage leads to the big chamber, by the looks of it. And when we get there we find two passages leading out of it. We follow this one," Frank indicated the tunnel marked X. "And from there we get to a smaller chamber. We follow a tunnel out of that until we get to what they call the blue room. And there we'll find the gold."

"If the outlaws haven't beaten us to it."

"Perhaps so. But perhaps they haven't."

Frank advanced toward the tunnel, flashing the light before him. It was a large passage and had evidently been frequently used. He examined the damp floor and found footprints that were plainly of recent origin.

"Some one has been here, and not so long ago either."

"To-day?"

"It's hard to tell. Footprints would look fresh down here for weeks, as long as no one else stepped over them. What I mean is that there has been some one down here since the mine was abandoned. That's plain enough."

"Well, it means we're on the right track."

With rapidly growing excitement, the two Hardy boys made their way on into the tunnel. Frank, having the flashlight, took the lead. This tunnel, the main drift of the mine leading into the working level, was not of great length, and within the minute they had reached the first chamber indicated on the map.

In the glow of the flashlight they saw that it was of considerable extent and was bolstered up by timbers that were now rotting away. The marks of pickaxes were discernible on the walls and an overturned wheelbarrow bore mute testimony to the work that had once gone on here underground in the search for gold.

Frank turned the light this way and that. In one corner he found the entrance to a second corridor leading out of the working, but this was not the one he wanted. After a few minutes' search they discovered the tunnel indicated by the cross on the map.

"We're getting warmer," he said, as they advanced toward it.

The tunnel had heavy timbers at either side, to support the roof and to prevent a cave-in. They entered it and stumbled along across the uneven floor. Water dripped from the ceiling and from the rocky walls. The dampness and cold made them shiver.

The tunnel led into a second and smaller chamber.

"Now for the last passageway. Then to the blue room!"

They explored the little chamber. But of a tunnel leading from it there was no sign. A sloping heap of gravel and boulders lay in one corner, a broken pickax lay on the floor, and a rusty shovel stood against the wall. There were many footmarks on the damp floor, but there was not the slightest trace of an exit.

"That's funny," murmured Frank, as he turned the beam of the flashlight on the walls. "I'm sure we're in the right place."

He looked at the map again. They had followed the directions exactly, and if the map was correct they should find a tunnel leading from the rocky chamber in which they stood.

"Listen!" said Joe suddenly.

They stood stock-still, not saying a word. The silence of the mine was profound.

"What's the matter?" whispered Frank finally.

"I thought I heard a sound—like some one talking."

They listened again, but they could hear nothing save the occasional drip-drip of water from the walls.

"It must have been my imagination," said Joe, at last. "But I was sure I heard a voice."

"This mine is full of echoes. It was probably only the wind whistling down the shaft."

"I guess that was it. But this place is so creepy a fellow imagines almost anything."

"It would be a tough break for us if the outlaws marched in on us just now."

"I don't think there's much danger. They won't be roaming around in that storm outside."

The boys resumed their search of the cave. They turned the flashlight high and low in the hope of finding the tunnel that had been so plainly marked on the plan, but without success.

"We must have taken the wrong passage," Joe remarked.

"I'm positive we took the right one. I took special care—But say! Perhaps the tunnel has been covered up!"

"That's an idea. It may be hidden."

Frank turned the light on the heap of rocks and gravel in one corner of the cave. At the base of the pile he could see footprints, all of which led directly to or from the heap.

"Maybe this is where it is," he said, and, handing Joe the flashlight, he picked up the shovel. He attacked the gravel vigorously, casting shovelfuls of it to one side. In a few moments he gave an exclamation of satisfaction. For, back of the gravel he had shoveled away, he saw a wooden door.

"Now we're getting there!"

The gravel flew, and in a short time the door was revealed, back of a heap of boulders that the boys lost no time in rolling to one side. To their disappointment they found a rusty padlock on the door, but Joe remembered the broken pickax they had seen in the chamber a short while before and he seized it. A few sharp blows and the padlock lay broken and shattered. He wrenched at the door and it came slowly open, with a protesting creak of hinges.

Casting the shovel to one side, Frank once more took the lead and they passed through the doorway. The tunnel at this point was very rough and narrow. They made their way cautiously forward. Frank noticed a change in the color of the earth and rock at this juncture.

"It seems blue," he remarked to his brother. Some chemical constituent gave the underground passage that peculiar shade, discernible even in the dim light.

The tunnel narrowed and the boys squeezed their way through the passage, stepping directly into another chamber dug out of the earth. Here the blueness of the walls was intensified, the wet blue earth giving off a weird glow.

"No mistake about it this time!" declared Frank triumphantly. "We're in the blue room at last."

His words echoed and re-echoed in the confined space. The boys were trembling with excitement. The end of their search was at hand. Somewhere in that underground room lay the four bags of gold.

But where?

The floor of the chamber was unbroken. A few faint footprints could be seen, but there was nothing to indicate a secret hiding place. Frank again produced the map.

"Gold at circle," he said, reading from the instructions. "The map shows the circle to be in the far right hand corner." He went forward to the corner indicated. The earth here seemed unusually smooth and flat.

"I think it's buried here," declared Frank. "There's the mark of a shovel."

"I'll get that shovel we had in the other room. Lend me the light for a second."

Frank handed his brother the flashlight, and Joe disappeared from the blue chamber. His footsteps echoed in the narrow passage.

As Frank Hardy waited in the dank darkness, he felt a curious exultation possess him. They were on the verge of solving the mystery of the hidden gold—if only the outlaws had not removed it from its hiding place. He waited in suspense for his brother's return.

CHAPTER XXII

Black Pepper

In a few minutes Frank Hardy saw the gleam of the light and heard his brother's footsteps as Joe returned. He was carrying the shovel that had served them to such good purpose in uncovering the secret door to the passageway of the blue room.

"I'll dig," he volunteered, handing the flashlight to Frank.

Then, with a will, he set to work.

The earth was soft, which showed that it had been dug up before and replaced. Frank held the light, directing its beam on the place where Joe was digging, and as a hole rapidly appeared in the ground he watched eagerly for some sign of the treasure which they sought.

In his mind was always the hated probability that they might have been forestalled and that the outlaws might have already visited the place and removed the gold. But, in that case, he argued to himself, it was not likely that they would have taken such precautions to bank up the locked door of the passage. There would have been no need for it.

"Nothing yet," panted Joe.

"It may be buried deep."

A far-off sound caught Frank's ear. He started violently, because his nerves were already tautened by suspense.

"Did you hear that?" he asked.

Joe rested on the shovel.

"I heard something," he said doubtfully.

They listened, but the sound was not repeated.

"It might have been a fall of rock," said Frank. "It sounded like rocks striking against the walls of the shaft."

"It's just like my thinking I heard voices a while ago. This place is so silent and creepy it gets your nerves all unstrung."

"Maybe."

Joe resumed his shoveling.

Another shovelful of earth and he bent forward.

"Something here!" he exclaimed. "My shovel struck something solid."

Frank brought the flashlight closer. Just above the earth he could see the top of a canvas sack.

"It's the gold! Dig, Joe. Dig!"

Joe Hardy needed no urging. He had seized the shovel again and the earth was flying furiously on all sides. Rapidly, he uncovered the top of the canvas sack, and then a second appeared in view. Frank bent down and seized one of the sacks, dragging it from the retaining earth. It came free. Joe flung aside his shovel and, in the illumination from the flashlight, Frank undid the heavy cord at the top of the sack and opened it.

He thrust his hand inside and withdrew it a moment later, clutching a handful of reddish brown objects that looked like pebbles.

"Nuggets!"

The boys gazed at the gold nuggets in silent delight. They were of good size, and the youths realized that they must be very valuable. Frank thrust his hand into the sack again and this time brought forth a handful of reddish sand that they recognized as gold dust.

"Gold dust and nuggets! We've found it at last!"

"There are more sacks yet. Didn't dad say there were four?"

Joe picked up his shovel again. After a few minutes' energetic digging he uncovered the rest of the sacks and in a short time all four were on the floor of the cave.

The Hardy boys examined each in turn, and found that each was identical with the first in that it contained gold dust and nuggets in large quantities. The sight of so much gold sent a thrill through them, just as it has sent a thrill through gold-seekers since the world began. Here was wealth, wealth in the raw, wealth for which men had fought and struggled, wealth that had been drawn from the depths of the earth.

"We've found it at last!" Frank declared, with a sigh of relief.

"Dad will be pleased."

"I don't think he ever really expected we'd find it."

"We've worked hard enough for it. Won't the outlaws be wild when they come here for it and find that it's gone!"

"Let them be wild. It isn't theirs."

"Four sacks of it," said Joe. "It must be worth thousands."

"It's the gold that Jadbury Wilson mentioned. I'm sure of that. And before we hand it over to Bart Dawson we'll have an explanation from him."

"Somehow, I can't believe he's dishonest. There must be a mistake in it somewhere, Frank."

"You can't always tell by looks in this world. Although, to tell the truth, I find it hard to believe that Dawson made away with this, myself. But we'll make him come across with the whole story, and if he did steal it, we'll see that Wilson gets his share."

"That's the ticket. And now—to get out of this mine with it."

"It'll be easy enough. We can go up the shaft. That's the way the outlaws got in here, I guess. We took the wrong entrance getting in here. We got into one of the side workings of the mine instead of coming down the main way."

"As long as we don't run into any more wolves I don't care how we get out," said Joe. "The sooner we get out though, the better. It must be night by now."

Frank bent and picked up two of the sacks of gold.

"I'll carry two and you carry two. Boy, but they're heavy! I never knew gold weighed so much."

"I shouldn't care if it weighed a ton. It won't seem like much, now that we've found it at last."

Frank hesitated.

"It might be as well to dig a little deeper there. They might have divided the gold up. I'd hate to overlook a sack of it."

"I was just thinking the same thing." Joe picked up the shovel again. "I'll dig down a little bit farther, just for luck."

He attacked the hole in the earth again, and for a while he shoveled industriously, but it soon became apparent that they had found all of the gold that had been buried in that place.

"I guess we got it all," he said, flinging the shovel to one side. "All the outlaws will find here will be a hole in the ground—a big one."

"I'd like to be listening in when they come to look for their treasure. They'll be as mad as hornets."

Joe picked up his two sacks of gold.

"Better let me carry one of yours," he suggested. "You have the flashlight to carry. It'll be awkward for you."

"I'd forgotten about the light," Frank agreed. "All right."

He passed over one of the sacks he had been carrying, and then bent down to pick up the flashlight that had been resting on the ground.

"And now," he said, "we'll leave the blue room. It isn't as blue as Black Pepper and his gang will be when they come to visit the place."

The boys looked at the hole in the ground and chuckled. They were just about to turn, ready to leave, when they heard a sound from the passage leading into the chamber.

This time they knew it was no trick of the imagination. They could sense plainly that some one was standing there. Some one had crept up through the tunnel, unheard, and was even then standing silently in the darkness.

Frank flung the flashlight about. Its circle of radiance illuminated the dark entrance to the chamber clearly. There, in the very center of the opening, stood a tall, swarthy man with villainous features. He had a heavy black beard and his dark eyebrows were knitted with wrath. And, leveled directly at the two boys, he held in each hand a wicked-looking black revolver.

"Hands up!" he rasped curtly, in a voice that vibrated with anger.

The Hardy boys knew without question that this man was none other than the notorious outlaw they had tried to circumvent—Black Pepper!

CHAPTER XXIII

The Capture

The Hardy boys were stunned by surprise. With victory in their grasp they had turned to confront this menacing figure that seemed to have risen like a ghost from the darkness. Black Pepper had captured them red-handed.

"Drop that gold!" growled the outlaw. "Drop that gold and put up your hands!"

They faced one another tensely. Suddenly Frank pointed to the tunnel directly behind Black Pepper.

"Grab him!" he shouted.

Almost instinctively, the outlaw wheeled about to face the enemy whom he judged was behind him. Before he realized the trick that had been played on him and while his revolvers were turned away from the two lads, the Hardy boys sprang into action.

Joe flung one of the sacks of gold with all his force. It struck against the outlaw's arm and knocked one of the weapons clattering to the floor. At the same instant Frank flung the sack that he was carrying, and it struck Black Pepper in the chest.

The outlaw reeled backward. The Hardy boys leaped toward him.

Frank was on him before he could raise his remaining weapon. Like a flash, he seized Black Pepper's arm, holding the revolver away from him. Then Joe joined the struggle and between the two of them they bore the outlaw to the ground by the sheer violence of their attack.

Grimly, Black Pepper struggled. The flashlight had gone out, and the battle raged in complete darkness. It was difficult to tell friend from foe. The outlaw was strong and powerful and he wrestled desperately to get free.

Frank clung grimly to the outlaw's arm, exerting all his strength to prevent Black Pepper from getting control of the revolver. The weapon exploded in the darkness, the shot sounding like a crash of thunder in that confined space.

Frank got his hands on the revolver and wrested sharply at it. Black Pepper's grasp relaxed. The revolver gave way and Frank wrenched it away from the outlaw. Quickly he reversed it and pressed the barrel against Black Pepper's body.

"Put up your hands!" he snapped. "I have you covered."

Black Pepper ceased his struggles and lay still.

"I give in," he said quickly. "I give in. Don't shoot."

"Get the flashlight, Joe."

Joe relinquished his grasp on the outlaw and searched for the flashlight, which had rolled to a distant corner of the cave. He found it at last and switched it on. The light revealed Black Pepper lying on his back, his hands upraised. His eyes were wide with fear.

"Get up!" ordered Frank.

The outlaw scrambled to his feet, arms still high.

"Get the other gun, Joe."

Joe found the other revolver on the floor and picked it up.

"Fine! Now we'll take you back with us."

"Let me go, boys," pleaded the desperado. "It was only a joke. I was only tryin' to scare you. Take the gold, if you want, but let me go."

"You have a funny idea of a joke. Well, just as a joke, we'll take you down to Lucky Bottom and clap you into jail. That's the kind of a sense of humor we have. Pick up the gold, Joe, and go ahead of him. I'll come behind."

Armed with the flashlight and two sacks of gold, Joe went to the entrance of the blue room. Frank picked up the other two sacks and, still keeping Black Pepper covered with a revolver, urged him ahead.

"Forward, march!" he ordered.

Reluctantly, the outlaw strode ahead, following Joe, who was silhouetted against the circle of light cast by the flash.

"My men will see that you pay up for this!" he growled savagely.

"Your men will be scattered so far you'll never be able to find them when they hear you've been taken in," replied Frank. "If they don't, they'll land in jail with you. How did you happen to be down in the mine without them? Trying to make away with the gold in the storm?"

The shot told. Black Pepper looked around sharply.

"I wasn't trying to double-cross them!" he shouted. "Don't tell them that! Don't say you found me down here. None of us was supposed to go in here alone."

Frank chuckled.

"So that was your game, was it? You thought you'd sneak down here and grab the gold, then make your escape under cover of the blizzard. If we hadn't got here first, you would have done it, too. Your men will be liable to take revenge on us after that, won't they? Why, they'll want to see you hanged!"

Black Pepper was silent. His bluff had failed, and he knew it. He knew that when the other outlaws heard he had been captured in the blue room they would realize that he had been trying to steal a march on them and make away with the gold without their knowledge.

Joe led the way down the passage into the next chamber, and from there they proceeded out into the main shaft.

"I guess we were right after all when he thought we heard noises," he called back to Frank. "It was our friend here making his way down into the mine."

"He came down quietly enough. I nearly jumped out of my shoes when I saw him standing there with those revolvers pointed at us. We'll say that much for you, Black Pepper—you took us completely by surprise."

The outlaw grunted, but it was not with satisfaction.

Joe began to ascend the ladder that led up the side of the shaft.

"Up you go," declared Frank, prodding the desperado in the ribs with the barrel of the revolver. Black Pepper scrambled up the rungs with alacrity.

They made the tedious climb without trouble, and when Joe emerged at the top of the shaft he took up his position and covered Black Pepper with the revolver until the outlaw was again on the surface and until Frank had joined him. The blizzard had died down to a mild snowfall, although darkness had fallen.

Far below, they could see the few twinkling lights of Lucky Bottom. A clearly defined trail led out toward the road. Joe took the lead once more.

So the odd procession made its way through the snow, the outlaw shambling despondently and dispiritedly between his captors. The weight of the gold was considerable, but Frank and Joe scarcely noticed it, so exultant were they over their double victory. They had not only recovered the gold for its rightful owners, but they had captured one of the most notorious outlaws of the West in the bargain.

When they reached Hank Shale's cabin they marched Black Pepper up to the door. Joe stepped inside and, still covering the outlaw, bade him enter.

Frank saw his father sitting up in bed, wide-eyed with astonishment, and Hank Shale and Bart Dawson by the fire, their mouths agape. Bart Dawson had just been in the act of putting his pipe in his mouth as they entered, and he held it suspended, staring at the trio as they came into the cabin.

Joe flung down his sacks of gold on the table.

"Here's the gold—part of it, anyway!"

"And here's the rest of it," said Frank as he closed the door and put down his two sacks. "And here," he said, indicating Black Pepper, "is the leader of the gang who stole it."

"Black Pepper!" ejaculated Hank Shale, starting up.

The outlaw was silent. He eyed Frank's revolver warily, as though even yet considering his chances of escape. But the weapon did not waver and he saw that he was trapped.

"Got a rope?" asked Frank of Hank Shale. "He must be tired keeping his hands up. We'll tie his wrists and then march him down to the jail."

"I'll say I have a rope!" shouted Hank, springing up, and within a few minutes Black Pepper's arms were firmly bound behind his back.

"But where on airth did ye find the gold?" demanded Bart Dawson, spluttering with excitement. "Tell us what happened! It's the very gold that was stolen!" He dug his hands into the sacks and sifted the gold dust and nuggets between his fingers. "It's all here—every bit of it! Tell us all about it, lads."

"Take him down to jail first," said Fenton Hardy quietly. "I'm as curious as any one to hear what happened, but the boys can tell us when they come back. The story will keep. But don't be long."

"I'll go with ye!" declared Dawson, picking up his hat and scrambling into his mackinaw coat. "This is too good to miss. I never thought I'd see the day when Black Pepper would be shoved into the calaboose!"

So, with Bart Dawson chattering excitedly by their sides, the Hardy boys left the cabin, where Fenton Hardy and Hank Shale were indulging in vain conjectures as to how the gold had been recovered and how the outlaw had been captured.

As they entered Lucky Bottom, although it was nightfall and people had long since retired indoors, the news quickly spread, by some mysterious system of telegraphy or mental telepathy, and by the time they reached the jail, husky miners and citizens were running down the street from every direction, anxious to witness the spectacle of Black Pepper being put behind the bars at last.

The sheriff was in his office and his jaw sagged with amazement when they entered.

"Here's Black Pepper for ye!" roared Bart Dawson. "Here's a prisoner for your jail, sheriff! Clap him in a good strong cell!"

"B—B—Black Pepper!" stammered the sheriff.

"This is him. And see that he don't get loose, neither. If he does, we'll string you up to a telygrapht pole."

"What's the charge?" asked the sheriff mechanically.

"There don't need to be no charge. You know as well as I do that there's been a reward of five hundred out for Black Pepper for the last three years. Put him in a cell, and no more of your foolish questions. If you must have a charge, put him down for stealin' four bags of gold that never belonged to him. Charge him with vagrancy and loiterin' and spittin' on the sidewalk. Charge him with mayhem and assault and battery and horse-stealin' and robbery and carryin' concealed weapons and parkin' his autymobile too close to a hydrant. Put him down for everythin' you've got on your book. He's been guilty of 'em all."

The sheriff wilted. He led Black Pepper to a cell, where Slim Briggs was sitting despondently. When Slim saw the leader of the gang being ushered in he shook his head in sympathy and groaned.

The door clanged.

"That fixes Black Pepper!" declared Bart Dawson, with satisfaction. "Now come on back to the cabin and tell us all about it. I'm just about dyin' of curiosity."

Dawson and the Hardy boys left the jail and had to fight their way through the crowd that surged about the doorway. Questions were hurled at them as they started up the street. Was it true that Black Pepper had been captured at last? Who caught him? What was he in for? How did it all happen, anyway?

"Tell ye all to-morrow," promised Bart Dawson, leading the boys on up the hill. "I'm not very clear about it just yet, myself."

So the Hardy boys returned to Hank Shale's cabin on the hill, there to tell the tale of their hazardous adventures and the successful outcome of their search for the hidden gold.

CHAPTER XXIV

Bart Dawson Explains

Sitting beside the fire in Hank Shale's cabin, the Hardy boys told their story. They were interrupted frequently by ejaculations of "Ye don't say!" and, "Well I'll be switched!" from the two old miners, and occasionally their father smiled in approval.

When they had finished, Bart Dawson slapped his knee.

"I never heard the beat of it!" he declared. "Ye went up on that there mountain and got lost and attacked by wolves and fell down the shaft and got held up by Black Pepper, and yet here ye are, and there's the gold. I never heard the beat!"

"Neither did I!" affirmed Hank Shale slowly.

"There's the gold," laughed Frank, indicating the four sacks on the table.

"Coulson will be tickled to death," declared Bart Dawson. "He never expected either of us to see it again."

"There's a question we wanted to ask you," put in Frank. "Are you sure there isn't anybody else but Mr. Coulson sharing the gold with you?"

Fenton Hardy looked up startled. He could not imagine what this was leading to. As for Bart Dawson, he looked blank.

"Not that I know of," he said.

"Are you quite sure?"

"I'm certain sure. There's Coulson's brother did own a share of it, but he's dead, and there's Jadbury Wilson, my old pardner, but he's dead, too. That leaves only me and Coulson."

"Are you sure Wilson is dead?"

"Last we heard of him he was. He went East, they say, and died out there. I sure wish he could be here to-night. Poor old Jad—he worked so hard for his share of that gold, and never got none of it."

"Jadbury Wilson isn't dead."

"What?" shouted Bart Dawson, leaping to his feet. "Say them words again, lad! Do ye know for sure? Is Jad Wilson still livin'?"

"He's staying at our house in Bayport right now," declared Joe.

Fenton Hardy looked more surprised than ever. The case was taking an angle he had never anticipated.

"If I'm sure Jad Wilson is still alive I'll be the happiest man in the world!" declared Bart Dawson. "But how do ye know? Tell me about him."

The Hardy boys thereupon told of their meeting with Jadbury Wilson and of the story he had told of his gold-mining days in the West.

"So he thinks that you stole the gold from him and went away with it," concluded Frank.

"I don't blame him for thinkin' that!" said Dawson heartily. "I don't blame him a bit! When I come back to Lucky Bottom I made it my business to trace up my old pardners, but the only one I could find was Coulson, and he told me his brother and Jad Wilson was dead."

"But what had happened to the gold?"

"I'm comin' to that. When the outlaws attacked our camp, the others sent me out to hide the gold. And I hid it. I was just gettin' away when a stray bullet hit me, and I'll be hanged if I didn't go clean off my head. I didn't remember nothin'. I must have wandered away from Lucky Bottom altogether, for when I come to myself I was miles and miles away, up in northern Montana, and I couldn't remember one thing of my life up to that time. It had been wiped clean out of my memory. I had papers on me that had my name written on them, but I didn't know where I had come from or nothin'."

"I have heard of such cases," said Fenton Hardy.

"I had clean lost my memory. I didn't even know I had ever been in Lucky Bottom. Everythin' was blank up to the time I come to myself. Then, a few months ago, a doctor told me he thought he could fix me up, and I had an operation and—click! I remembered everythin'. I remembered Lucky Bottom and our mine, and how I had hidden the gold. It all come back to me. So I came back to Lucky Bottom and dug up the gold again and tried to find my pardners, and Coulson and I was ready to split it up between us, seein' we thought his brother and Jad Wilson was dead, when the outlaws stole it on us. So that's how it happened."

Frank and Joe had listened entranced.

"Why, that explains everything!" Frank declared. "It clears it all up. We couldn't believe you had been crooked, although—" he stopped in confusion.

"Although it looked mighty like it, eh?" finished Bart Dawson, with a smile. "Well, I don't blame ye for bein' suspicious. And now, if you'll take me back East with ye, I'll meet my old pardner, Jad Wilson, again, and he'll get his share of the gold. It should be enough to keep him in comfort for all the rest of his life."

"He's been having a pretty tough time," said Frank. "He'll welcome it."

"And glad I'll be to see that he gets his share. As for you, Mr. Hardy," went on Dawson, turning to the detective. "I promised you a good fee if ye'd take this case for me and I promised you a reward if the gold was found. Two thousand dollars, I said, and two thousand dollars you'll get as soon as I can get these nuggets and the gold dust changed into real money."

"I won't take it all," said Fenton Hardy. "My boys did the real work."

"That's up to you. It was your case and you can do what you like with the money. But," Dawson declared with emphasis, "if ye don't divvy up with these two lads——!"

"Don't worry," laughed the detective. "I have no intention of letting them work for nothing. I want to share the reward with them."

"Well, that's fine, then. And they get five hundred dollars for capturin' Black Pepper—don't forget that." Bart Dawson turned to the Hardy boys. "Ye ought to have a nice fat bank account when you go back East."

"It begins to look that way," agreed Frank, with a pleased smile.

"You've done good work," said Fenton Hardy. "You've cleaned up this case in record time and, to tell the truth, I hardly expected you would be successful, because you were up against a mighty difficult undertaking and you didn't have very much to work on. You deserve everything that is coming to you in the way of reward. You've done me credit."

"Hearing you say that is reward enough," said Frank, and Joe nodded his head in agreement.

"Real detectives, both of 'em," said Hank Shale, puffing at his pipe.

The End

MYSTERY STORIES FOR BOYS

By FRANKLIN W. DIXON

THE HARDY BOYS: THE TOWER TREASURE
THE HARDY BOYS: THE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF
THE HARDY BOYS: THE SECRET OF THE OLD MILL
THE HARDY BOYS: THE MISSING CHUMS
THE HARDY BOYS: HUNTING FOR HIDDEN GOLD

(Other Volumes in Preparation)

GROSSET AND DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK