The Pentagon Spy (5 page)

While Frank stared in horror, his brother slid down the steep slope and plunged over the side of the barn!

Without hesitating, Frank skidded down the roof to a point where he could brace his feet against the gutter. Joe was hanging onto the gutter by his fingertips! The force of his fall had swung one foot against the wall, where the sole of his shoe had come to rest on a fastening that held a drainpipe against the side of the barn.

Quickly Frank grabbed his brother's wrists. Joe swung one knee over the gutter and with Frank's help hauled himself back onto the roof. He lay there for a moment, breathing heavily after his near-fatal accident.

“That was some ride you took,” Frank said, his voice still tense.

“I'm glad I didn't finish it,” Joe puffed. Catching his breath, he followed Frank back to the apex of the roof where Morven was waiting.

“I'm sorry about your fall,” the foreman said apologetically. “My foot slipped. Are you all right?”

“Don't worry, I do this all the time,” Joe said coldly. He suspected that it had not been an accident. Carefully wedging himself next to the weather vane, he resumed unscrewing the arrowhead and noticed that the arrow formed a hollow tube.

“That makes it light enough to turn with the wind,” he reasoned. After peering in and finding the tube empty, he screwed the arrowhead back on.

Deciding that they had seen enough, Frank and Joe descended the roof with Morven, dropped through the skylight, and rejoined Chet in the loft. Their roly-poly friend, who had watched Joe's close call, was pale, and his hands trembled slightly.

“You sure know how to scare a guy,” he said to Joe, trying not to show how upset he was.

“Sorry about that,” Joe said. “I didn't know you were watching. What'd you find in the loft?”

“Nothing but a telephone,” Chet replied and pointed to the instrument that was mounted on the wall. “I checked it out. Connects with the house. Matter of fact, Mr. Hammerley wants you to call him up.”

Frank lifted the phone and heard it ring at the other end. Hammerley answered.

“Did you find anything?” he inquired.

“Yes. The
Flashing Arrow
is loose. I lifted it clear off its rod. Why is that?”

Hammerley was puzzled. “I don't know. It always had a collar holding it in place. I'll talk to Crow about it. Tell him to come to the house with you.”

The group entered through the front door and Hammerley ushered them into the living room. He ordered Morven to put a new collar on the weather vane, and the foreman promised to take care of it in the morning.

“What's our next move?” Harmmerley asked the boys.

“Tomorrow we'd like to talk to the people whose weather vanes have been stolen,” Frank said. “Meanwhile, perhaps we could sleep in the barn tonight. I'm sure Mr. Morven wouldn't mind having some time off.”

Hammerley liked the idea, and Morven gave no indication that he objected in any way. He took a flashlight from a shelf on the wall, stuffed it into his pocket, and said he would see about the cows in the pasture. As he was leaving, he turned to the boys with a smirk and added, “Pleasant dreams!”

Hammerley showed his guests around the house, then entertained them with tales of the Pennsylvania Dutch and the plain ways of the Amish. He was interested to hear that they had seen Amish couples in their carriages on their way.

“We also met Mad Maggie,” Frank said but did not mention the woman's warning.

“Oh, she's a harmless old crone,” Hammerley told the boys. “No one takes her seriously.”

Frank decided not to press the subject any further, when Chet suddenly sat bolt upright. His eyes became wide, and his nose quivered.

“What's the matter, Chet?” Frank asked.

“Food!” Chet exclaimed. “I smell it! And I just remembered that we haven't eaten in a long time!”

The familiar aroma of roast beef wafted in from the kitchen, and the Hardys grinned.

“Mr. Hammerley, please excuse Chet,” Frank said. “He has this thing about food—”

“I can tell.” Hammerley chuckled. “And I assure you he'll enjoy tonight's meal.”

An hour later their host served onion soup from a large green tureen at the head of the table. The roast beef came next, with vegetables and potatoes, and finally Mrs. Smith, the housekeeper, brought in homemade ice cream. Chet took a double portion of everything.

Hammerley was amazed at the spectacle. “My goodness, young man, you really know how to do justice to a meal!” he commented.

“Chet's had a lot of practice,” Joe stated.

Later, as night was falling, the boys left the house and went to the barn. They climbed up to the loft and discussed their strategy. They agreed to rotate one-hour watches—Joe first, Chet second, Frank third, and then back to Joe to repeat the series.

Then they went to the skylight and peered out. Dark clouds drifted across the face of a full moon, causing the trees in the woods to throw ghostly shadows over the landscape. From down below came the scream of a wildcat hunting for its prey in the underbrush. Bats flitted in the night sky, zooming through the moonlight and disappearing into the darkness. Far off, a bell tolled mournfully in a church steeple.

“Let's keep the light out,” Frank suggested and sat down. “It might scare the thieves away.”

“But I'm scared without it!” Chet declared. “This place gives me the creeps.”

“Want to sleep in the farmhouse?” Frank needled.

Chet looked at him darkly but didn't reply. Finally he said, “What if the thieves outnumber us?”

“We have a phone to send an SOS,” Frank told him. “Besides, the hex is on our side.”

Being reminded of the hex sign over the barn door made Chet feel more uneasy than ever. Frank and Joe could not help but tease their pal, and they began to discuss how witches used hex signs to cast spells on their victims.

“Strange things happen at the crossroads in the dark of the moon,” Joe intoned. It was a sentence he had read in the book on mystical lore.

Chet shivered. “Please, fellows, let's talk about something else. The only thing I want is—”

His companions never found out what he wanted because he was interrupted by a sound on the roof in the vicinity of the weather vane. They jumped to their feet and quickly opened the skylight. They were about to climb out onto the roof, when they realized what had made the noise.

A large horned owl sat on the arrow beside the copper eagle. It glared at them, hooted hoarsely, spread its wings, and sailed off into the moonlight.

Frank and Joe broke out into relieved chuckles. “Some thief!” Joe said.

“It certainly didn't do my nerves any good,” Chet grumbled, wiping perspiration from his face.

The three settled down again to wait in the darkness. Chet yawned. He kicked some of the hay in the corner into a makeshift mattress. “I'm going to sleep,” he announced and lay down. He closed his eyes and soon only his snoring disturbed the silence of the barn loft.

Joe glanced at the luminous dial of his wristwatch. “Time for me to stand guard, Frank. You can turn in if you want to.”

“Good idea,” Frank said. “I could use a little shut-eye.”

But before he could get comfortable, a creaking noise came from downstairs. “Sh!” Frank warned, putting a hand on Joe's right arm. The Hardys sat motionless, straining their ears.

“It must have been the door,” Joe whispered. “Maybe the wind did it.” But then they heard a step creak on the lower stairs, then another, and another!

“That's not the wind,” Frank hissed. “Someone's coming up the stairs!”

In their detective work, the boys had developed a technique for dealing with situations like this. Noiselessly they tiptoed to the door and positioned themselves on either side of it.

The stealthy footsteps drew closer and stopped on the landing outside. Frank and Joe felt their spines tingle and they breathed in muted gasps, while their eyes remained fixed on the door.

It began to swing inward very slowly, inch by inch. When it was half open, a dark form slipped through into the loft! The Hardys could see the intruder was a man but did not recognize him. They sprang into action. Joe grabbed the stranger by the elbows, pulling his arms behind his back, while Frank got him around the waist.

However, their adversary was quick and strong. He wrenched free of Joe's grip and jumped clear of Frank. Then he bolted out the door! Frank hit him with a flying tackle, and the two rolled over and over down the stairs to the landing below.

The kicking and pounding had awakened Chet. He and Joe rushed down the stairs after the two combatants to join the fray. Seconds later Chet immobilized the intruder with a headlock!

“All right, I give up!” the captive sputtered. “Just let go of me!”

The voice sounded familiar to the boys, so they quickly pushed the intruder up the steps and into the loft where they shone the light on him. He was Crow Morven!

“What in the world are you doing here?” Frank exploded.

“I came for my jacket,” the man replied. “I must have left it in the loft.”

“But why did you sneak up the stairs?” Joe demanded. “Why didn't you just call out and let us know you were here?”

“I figured you were asleep, and I didn't want to wake you up. Did you have to pounce on me like that?”

“You threw a few punches yourself,” Chet accused him. “And if you'd let us know who you were in the beginning, we all could have saved ourselves a lot of bruises!”

“I know,” Morven muttered. “But after you jumped me I wasn't sure whether it was you or the gang of thieves. After all, they could have come in and subdued you. Anyway, have you seen my jacket?”

“You were wearing it over at the house,” Joe reminded him. “I saw you put the flashlight in your pocket.”

“Oh ... yes. Now I remember. I must have left it out in the pasture,” Morven said, slapping his forehead with his hand. “Well, sorry about the bruises. I'll see you in the morning.” With that, he turned on his heels and left.

Joe snapped the light off again. “I don't trust that guy,” he declared. “He didn't forget his jacket. He was up to no good when he came sneaking in here!”

“And remember how he tried to keep us away from the
Flashing Arrow?”
Frank asked. “Why would he do that if he was on the level? Maybe he took the collar off and didn't want us to find out.”

Chet nodded. “Joe, when he bumped into you, it wasn't an accident, either. He was probably trying to knock you off the roof.”

“I felt that all along,” Joe admitted.

The boys agreed to keep an eye on Morven. After the excitement of the fight, none of them felt like sleeping. It occurred to Frank that it would be a good idea to check out the rest of the barn. “Morven could have dropped something downstairs before coming up,” he said. “One of us can stay here while the other two investigate.”

They decided that Joe would remain on guard while Frank and Chet scouted through the lower levels. Frank took out his pencil flashlight. Using its narrow beam, he led the way down the stairs.

At the bottom, they found a dozen stone steps, descended them, and ended up in a basement constructed from large cinder blocks. Chet yelled as something jumped onto his shoe. Frank whipped the flashlight around and the beam picked up a rat scurrying out of sight.

Pressing on, the boys discovered farm machinery and a long bench holding tools for working on the machines.

“This must be the repair shop,” Frank judged.

Chet slapped a tractor with the palm of his hand. “Boy, I'd like to drive this baby out in the field! I'd show them how to make furrows!”

He got into the driver's seat of the tractor and began to experiment with the controls in the darkness, while Frank played his light on the ceiling.

Varrooom!
Suddenly the tractor engine sprang to life and the machine began to move, plowing forward into a pile of crates before Chet managed to brake to a halt! It all happened so fast that Frank could only stare at his friend, who was now festooned with straw that had fallen over him from one crate. The pile tilted at crazy angles over his head, and Chet looked horror-stricken at a broken crate in front of him.

“I just turned on the ignition, and it took off!” he declared defensively.

“You must have kicked it into gear without noticing it,” Frank said, suppressing a chuckle.

“I guess so.” Chet backed the tractor to its original position and jumped down to inspect the crates he had hit. “Only one is smashed,” he said with relief.