The Mystery of Cabin Island (2 page)

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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

BOOK: The Mystery of Cabin Island
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“Some welcoming committee!” Chet grumbled.
Joe scowled. “He sure was eager to chase us away. I have a hunch he's up to no good.”
Soon Frank guided the
Sea Gull
out of the cove and sent her skimming along Barmet Bay.
Suddenly Chet gasped. “Look at that iceboat! Must be a crazy man steering it!”
Heading toward them was a large craft which weaved across the ice in a dizzying path. Suddenly it dipped over and one runner plank lifted off the ice into the air.
“Wow! That's a tall hike!” exclaimed Frank.
“He'll capsize!” Biff cried out. Just then the pilot let go the sheet and the runner came down hard, spattering ice.
Joe groaned. “Anybody who gives a boat that slam-bang treatment doesn't deserve to own one.”
An instant later the other craft streaked straight for the
Sea Gull.
Frank looked grim. “We're in trouble,” he said. “That's the
Hawk!”
The
Hawk
was owned by two belligerent youths, Tad Carson and Ike Nash, who had been in the Hardys' classes at school until they had dropped out early in the term. The two often returned to loiter about the school grounds, bullying younger boys. They were known to be fast, reckless car drivers.
“Ike is steering,” Joe observed. “He's even more dangerous on the ice than he is on the road.”
“If he doesn't change his course, he'll hit us!” Chet said.
Frank set his jaw. “If Ike won't turn, I will.” He bore down on the tiller and swung out of the
Hawk's
path.
A second later the bigger craft also changed course. It was hurtling toward the
Sea Gull,
gaining momentum every second!
“They mean to run us down!” Biff shouted.
“Or else they just want to scare us,” Joe said, clenching his fists.
Frank swerved once more. Again the other steersman mimicked him, and the
Hawk
still came at them. By now it was less than fifty yards away. The boys could see mocking grins on Ike's and Tad's faces. In another few seconds the
Hawk
would crash into the
Sea Gull.
Suddenly Ike's grin changed to a look of terror. In a flash Frank realized what had happened. The reckless youth had tried to swerve off the collision course. But the maneuver had caused the
Hawk's
tiller to jam. Ike held up his hands to show that he had lost control of his craft.
In a moment the boats would collide!
CHAPTER II
An Angry Caller
FRANK leaned hard on the tiller, while Joe trimmed sail. The
Sea
Gull veered sharply. The other boys held on so tightly to the gunwales that their knuckles were white. The boat careened, and the ice seemed to leap toward them.
The
Hawk
zoomed past in such a violent rush of wind that Frank thought his craft would surely turn over. But he kept a firm hold on the tiller and Joe eased the sheet. Slowly the craft pulled out of the tall hike and Frank was able to slow to a stop.
For a moment no one spoke. The boys stared at one another, numb with relief. Then Joe glanced over his shoulder and exclaimed, “They've piled up!”
“Serves them right,” Biff declared. “They might have killed us all.”
“Still, we'd better go over and see if they're badly injured,” Frank said.
The four got out of the
Sea Gull
and made their way across the ice to the troublemakers, who were surveying the
Hawk's
broken mast.
Ike Nash limped toward the
Sea Gull's
crew, his eyes blazing. “You jerks are going to pay for this damage!” he shouted. “Besides, I'll have to see a doctor about my ankle. It's probably broken. You'll get all the bills, that's for sure!”
“It was your fault,” Joe declared. “And if your ankle were broken, Ike, you couldn't walk.”
“Save that stuff!” Tad snapped back. “If we wanted to hear a lecture, we'd have stayed in school!”
Biff turned away in disgust. “We can't tell these idiots a thing,” he muttered. “Let's go!”
“We may as well,” Joe agreed. “Nobody's seriously hurt, so they can make their own way to shore.”
The Hardys and their pals headed back for the
Sea Gull,
ignoring the threats and angry remarks the bullies shouted after them.
“Let's go home,” Chet said. “It's almost sup pertime, and man, I'm starved!”
The four boarded the craft and sped on toward Bayport. Frank's face wore a thoughtful frown as they glided over the ice.
“What's the matter?” Joe shouted above the wind. “Not worried about those two blowhards back there, are you?”
Frank shook his head. “No, just thinking about that fellow in the Mackinaw. I'd sure like to know who he is and what he's doing on Cabin Island.”
“Same here.” Joe was about to suggest that the quarrelsome stranger might have something to do with the mystery promised by Elroy Jefferson. But, smothering a grin, Joe decided he had better not alarm Chet unnecessarily!
The stout youth almost seemed to read Joe's mind. “I just hope that tough guy isn't around to make trouble if we're going to be spending Christmas vacation on the island,” Chet muttered.
“Don't worry. If he tries anything, we can handle him,” Biff said confidently.
Reaching Bayport harbor, they stowed the
Sea Gull
in the boathouse. Frank locked up and the boys climbed into the Hardys' convertible.
On the way to the farm where Chet lived on the outskirts of Bayport, Joe suggested, “Why not pack our supplies for the trip into the
Sea Gull
the night before we leave? Then we'll be able to get a quick start.”
“But that's Christmas Day!” Biff objected. “We'll want to be home.”
“True. How about tomorrow?” Frank asked. “We could pack in the afternoon, in plenty of time for Christmas Eve.” This suggestion was agreed upon.
“What shall we bring?” Chet inquired.
“Oh, sleeping bags, extra blankets, snowshoes —that sort of thing,” Joe replied.
“And flashlights!” Frank added. “Mr. Jefferson did tell me the cabin is primitive—no electricity, no running water. We'll be roughing it.”
“I was thinking of the meals,” Chet persisted. “Who's in charge of food?”
Frank grinned. “You! But we'll all bring some.”
“Sounds fine to me,” said Biff, and the others nodded assent.
As they pulled up in front of the Mortons' farmhouse, Chet asked, “What time do we meet tomorrow to pack the
Sea Gull?”
“About four o‘clock,” Joe suggested. “Frank and I ought to be back from our visit with Mr. Jefferson by then.”
“Okay. See you!”
The Hardys next drove Biff to his house. As they headed for their own home, Joe said, “I can't wait to know the details of Mr. Jefferson's mystery! Haven't you
any
idea what it's about?”
Frank shook his head. The brothers had become fascinated with detective work at an early age, because their father, Fenton Hardy, was a private investigator whose skill had won him fame all over the country.
Mr. Hardy frequently praised Frank and Joe for their ability to recognize significant clues and to make intelligent deductions. The boys had solved their first mystery when they had discovered
The Tower Treasure,
and, more recently, had uncovered The
Secret of the Caves
after a series of spine-chilling adventures on a lonely part of the Atlantic coast.
The boys went into the house and found Mr. and Mrs. Hardy in the living room. After greeting their parents, Frank said, “I'm afraid Joe and I have a confession. We've made some vacation plans without consulting you.”
“I guess we got excited and forgot,” Joe admitted. “But it all happened this afternoon.”
Tall, muscular Fenton Hardy, his eyes twinkling, winked at his slender, attractive wife. “Laura, do you have the same hunch I do?”
Mrs. Hardy smiled ruefully. “Another mystery. Am I right, boys?”
“Yes. But we don't know what kind yet,” Frank replied.
The brothers took turns telling of Mr. Jefferson's offer. When they had finished, Mr. Hardy said, “I think the trip is a reward you deserve.”
“Then it's okay, Dad—Mother?” Joe asked.
“All right. But I do hope there won't be any danger.”
“We'll be careful,” Frank assured her.
“Well,” Mrs. Hardy said, “I'll have to make a trip to the market for your food supplies.”
“You'll have to take a truck to bring home all that food!” exclaimed a tart voice from the doorway. The boys' Aunt Gertrude entered the living room and added, “I know what it is to feed Chet Morton.” She sniffed. “I only hope all you boys won't catch your death of cold!”
Aunt Gertrude was Fenton Hardy's unmarried sister, a tall, angular woman who often made long visits with the family. She liked to affect strictness, and it provoked her that she often found herself smiling when she had intended to be stern with her nephews.
Underneath her peppery manner, Miss Hardy held a deep affection for the boys. She also was interested in their sleuthing, although always predicting dire results.
Joe could not resist teasing her. “Now, Aunty, how about you coming along as our cook?”
“Humph,” Miss Hardy mumbled, and hastened to the kitchen.
Soon after supper Frank and Joe excused themselves and went upstairs to pack. “We may as well stow everything aboard the
Sea Gull
tomorrow except the food,” Frank said. “That should give us an early start Saturday.”
The boys stuffed their clothes and gear into duffle bags. Next morning everything was placed in the trunk of the convertible.
Shortly after lunch Frank and Joe drove to the Jefferson home, a large colonial dwelling on Shore Road. A housekeeper answered their knock, took their coats, and asked the visitors to be seated in the spacious front hall.
“Mr. Jefferson is busy,” the woman said. “He will be with you shortly.”
After the housekeeper had left, Joe exclaimed in a low voice, “Mother and Aunt Gertrude would sure go for this place! Look at that fancy carved table and gilded work. And those paintings on the walls! The whole house must be furnished in antiques.”
“I think it is,” Frank told him. “I've heard that Mr. Jefferson has a large collection. In fact, he's regarded as an expert on antiques.”
Suddenly the boys stopped talking. Loud voices came from the living room adjoining the hall. The Hardys exchanged quizzical glances.
“Wonder what's going on?” Joe muttered.
“Trouble, from the sound of it,” Frank replied.
The speakers seemed to be growing angrier with every sentence. Soon their words were clearly audible.
“I don't understand, Mr. Jefferson, why you won't sell. You'll regret this!”
“Cabin Island is not for sale, and that is final, Mr. Hanleigh. Now, please leave my home!”
The first voice snapped back, “You haven't heard the last from me!”
Startled, the Hardys stood up. At the same instant a large man stomped into the hall. Frank and Joe were nearly elbowed aside by the angry caller as he strode toward his coat, which was lying on a chair.
The boys nudged each other in excitement. It was the belligerent young man who had chased them off Cabin Island!
As he shrugged violently into his coat, his eyes fell on Frank and Joe. “You two again!” he shouted, glaring at the boys. “Keep out of my way!”
Then he flung open the door and was gone.
CHAPTER III

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