Read The Secret of Wildcat Swamp Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
The Secret of Wildcat Swamp (14 page)
“Our pack mule,” Joe cried. “He was well hidden. If the thieves didn't take him, Frank and I will ride to Red Butte and send horses back.”
“Our nearest point to contact the law,” Cap suggested, “is Sheriff Paul.”
“We never did find out what happened at his home,” Frank reminded his brother. “Suppose we see if he's returned. On their way back to Red Butte, Cap and Chet can stop at the Sanderson ranch to see if everything is all right there.”
Leaving Cap and Chet, the Hardys made for the campsite to look for the pack animal. It was grazing in a little natural corral. The boys threw a blanket across the mule's back and mounted.
For a moment the mule stood still; then, at a signal from Frank's heel, it plodded up the slope. Reaching the trail, the animal ignored a signal to turn right and doggedly trudged toward Wildcat Swamp. No amount of coaxing could change its mind.
“Now what are we going to do?” Joe asked impatiently.
“It's just possible,” Frank reflected, “that our mule has been used by someone else and is taking the route he's become accustomed to. He may lead us to a new clue.”
The boys rode along without attempting to guide the animal. It headed straight for the defile, went through it, and stopped just above the spot where Cap and the boys had been digging.
“Well, what do you make of this?” Joe asked, perplexed.
Frank jumped off and started down the slope, waving to Joe to follow.
“Somebody else has been digging hereâthey even put up a sign!” he cried.
“ âDanger,' ” he read aloud. “ âExplosives buried. Keep out.' ”
“I wonder if that's a trick to scare people away from here,” Joe pondered.
“We'd better not stop to find out,” Frank replied. “But I think we should warn Chet and Cap in case it's true.”
This time the mule willingly carried the boys in the opposite direction. Reaching camp, he turned in.
“Somebody sure has been using this mule recently,” Frank said. “I wonder if it was to carry dynamite.”
“Sure looks like itâif the sign means anything,” Joe answered.
At that moment Cap and Chet wearily arrived at the camp.
“What's up now? I see you found the mule, but why did you come back?” Chet asked.
Quickly the Hardys explained and urged their friends to stay away from the pit.
When Cap agreed, Frank and Joe started off again. Reaching the trail, their mule once more turned left.
“Oh, no, not again,” Joe cried, trying his best to guide the animal to the right.
“Now what?” Frank pondered. “It's a long walk to Sheriff Paul's.”
Joe broke a leafy twig from a sapling and remounted. “Frank, you walk ahead the way we want to go. I'll see what I can do from here.”
His brother took the lead rope and started. The mule walked four steps, then stopped. Joe tickled its ear with the twig. As the mule's attention was distracted, Frank coaxed it a few feet farther.
The boys continued this maneuver until the animal seemed to lose interest in going back. There was no more trouble and Frank climbed up behind his brother.
Meanwhile, Cap and Chet were at a loss. Without horses they certainly would not be able to go far.
Sitting before their tent, Cap's far-roving eye spotted a movement on the hillside.
“What are you looking at?” Chet asked.
“I'm not sure, but I'm beginning to work up a hunch,” Cap said. “Come with me.”
As they scrambled down the incline, Cap let out a cry. “I was right! Our horses!”
The two mounts were tethered in a grove of pine trees.
“So this is where those phony rangers hid them!” Chet exclaimed.
“Now we can do a little traveling of our own!” Cap cheered. “Let's get started for the Sanderson ranch.”
Stiffly they swung into the saddles, and a minute later were loping along the trail.
While all this was happening, Frank and Joe were still swaying from side to side on the back of the mule. Without a horse to follow, the mule ambled along at a pace of his own choosing.
After three hours of stumbling over sand-covered rocks and sliding along bare shale, the mule brought the boys in sight of the sheriff's ranch.
“I hope somebody's here,” Joe said, “to give me a tall glass of water.”
Dismounting, the boys tied the mule behind the barn and went to the door of the ranch house.
“Hello!” they called. No answer.
“Looks exactly as it was before,” Frank said, pushing the door open.
Seeing their note lying on the table, the boys went through to the kitchen. The unwashed dishes still rested in the sink and the basket of clothes remained untouched.
“It's obvious that Mrs. Paul hasn't been back here,” Joe said. “Shall we start for Red Butte?”
“Yes, but through open country. I don't want to be trapped again.”
As the two boys crossed the living room, Joe noticed something strange. “Say, the radiotelephone's gone,” he said.
“That means somebody has been here since we left,” Frank stated.
Before the Hardys could ponder the riddle further, a distant clatter of hoofs caused them to glance out the window. Three riders in green uniforms were galloping up to the house.
“The fake rangers!” Frank warned. “We'd better get out of here.”
The boys hurried through the kitchen, closing the back door quietly behind them, then crossed the yard rapidly and hid inside the stone-and-rail corral attached to the barn.
No sooner had they concealed themselves than the men galloped up and dismounted. Through a crack in the corral fence, the boys could see that one of the men was short, wiry, beady-eyed Willie the Penman! The flat-nosed, fierce-looking man with the craggy brows obviously was Snide.
Willie gave a laugh of satisfaction. “This is a snap with the sheriff out of the way, Snide,” he said. “He sure bit on that âmissing rangers' gag.”
“Willie,” Snide said, “I have to hand it to you. The sheriff walked right into that one. Nobody'd ever look for him in the tower.”
Nudging his brother, Joe whispered, “I wonder where this tower is they're talking about.”
Willie's whining voice continued. “We can't stick around here long. I'll get those seals I'll need to make the papers look legal. Somebody mightâin fact, somebody is coming. It's that Sanderson kid. Quick! Take off those uniforms. Pretend you're waiting for the sheriff. I'll hide in the barn.”
Frank and Joe watched Willie's companions strip off the rangers' uniforms, revealing cowboy outfits underneath. Willie carried the discarded clothes through the open barn door.
Harry rode up to the men, who greeted him in a friendly manner.
“I'm looking for the sheriff,” the boy said. “I need his help.”
“We're waiting for Paul ourselves,” Snide answered. “What's your trouble?”
Frank and Joe clenched their fists, hoping the boy would say no more. But Harry continued earnestly:
“Well, a couple of days ago two boys promised me they'd help Mom find a way to keep her land. They had a campsite near Devil's Swamp and have disappeared. I want Sheriff Paul to help me find them.”
“No use,” Snide said. “Those boys named Frank and Joe told me they were going back to their home in a place called Bayport. You might as well go home yourself. Just wasting your time here.”
Harry looked surprised when he heard the Hardys mentioned, but still seemed undecided. “I've got to see the sheriff,” he insisted.
“I'll give him your message, kid.”
“Well, okay.” The boy wheeled his horse and rode slowly past the corral on his way out.
“Now's my chance,” Joe whispered to Frank.
Crouching low and running as quietly as possible he came to the far corner just as Harry did and peered through the bars.
“Pretend you don't see me, Harry,” he said in a loud whisper. The boy stiffened. “This is Joe Hardy. Get off your horse and act as if you're tightening the cinch.”
Without looking toward Joe's hiding place, the boy dismounted and began adjusting his saddle.
“You've got to get to Red Butte for help,” Joe continued. “These men are in with the gang that's after your land! They're holding Sheriff Paul in a tower. Hurry!”
Harry played his part well. He nodded slightly, mounted his horse, and trotted away. Leaving the ranch, he spurred the animal into a gallop. Harry rode at breakneck speed for a mile, then slowed down to rest his horse.
About to resume his fast pace, Harry saw two riders approaching. They guided their horses on either side of him and one man grabbed his reins.
“Whoa, there, kid!” the larger of the two husky riders said. “Where are you going in such a rush?”
“To town,” Harry blurted out. “There's a gang of crooks trying to steal Mom's land and they're holding Sheriff Paul a prisoner!”
“How'd you find all this out?” the other man asked.
“Joe Hardy told me. He and his brother Frank are hiding at the ranch right now. You've got to help us!”
“Oh, we'll give you a hand, all right.” He turned to his big companion. “Give him both hands!”
The man seized Harry's wrists and tied them behind his back. He lashed the boy around the waist to the pommel of his saddle and hobbled his horse with a length of rope. The animal would be able to move only a few inches with each stop.
Harry's eyes were wide with fright. “What's the idea? You must beâ”
“That's right, kid,” the big man said. “You talk too much to the wrong people.”
Leaving Harry helpless, the men then whipped their horses and galloped on toward the Paul ranch.
Back in the corral, Frank and Joe were still crouching behind the fence. Willie the Penman had gone into the ranch house, but the others remained outside.
There was the clatter of hoofbeats.
“Two men!” Joe whispered, peering between the bars at a pair of riders cantering toward the house. “They can't be reinforcements sent by Harry. It's too soon for that.”
When Willie and his henchmen recognized the newcomers, they stepped out to meet them. The men spoke in low tones that did not carry to the corral fence.
“This doesn't look good!” Joe warned. “Look! They're fanning out all over the place as if to cut off our escape.”
“Snide is coming this way!” Frank exclaimed, crouching lower.
Stalking cautiously around the corner of the fence where Joe had talked to Harry, Snide turned along its near side. As he reached the end, the boys quietly retreated toward the barn. A few yards more and they could make a run for it.
Suddenly there was a shout from behind them.
“There they are!”
Whirling, the boys found two big cowboys between them and the barn.
Snide ran toward them from the other side.
Frank and Joe were trapped!
CHAPTER XIX
To the Rescue
SNIDE, seeing the Hardys, twisted his mouth to one side and called:
“Come on, Willie!”
The wiry little figure of Willie the Penman rounded the corner, followed by a hulking cowboy.
Frank and Joe delivered a couple of stiff punches, but the odds were against them. The battle was over almost before it began.
Wiping the sweat from his face, Willie stood before Frank and Joe, held firmly in viselike grips by his companions.
“So you got out of the cooler, eh?” he whined. “Well, wise guys, you won't outsmart us again!”
Turning to the other men, he ordered, “Tie 'em upâtight!”
Two men went to the barn and returned with lengths of bailing wire. Twisting it roughly around the boys' wrists and ankles, they made certain that Frank and Joe could not move.
Willie said to Snide, “I'm ready to take off. Just be sure these kids don't pull any fast ones.”
“Don't worry,” Snide replied. “They're going to stay put.”
“Okay. I'm late now. Mrs. Sanderson will be heartbroken if I don't keep our little date.”
“Sure you got all the papers for her to sign, Willie?” Snide asked. “Now that we're getting this close, we don't want no slip-up with the law.”
“I'm no amateur,” Willie said, annoyance in his voice. “She'll sign everything legal and proper. If she don't, I'll tell her about Harry!”
The boys looked at each other in mystified silence. What had Willie meant? Was Harry Sanderson in trouble? If so, that would mean he had not delivered their message for help.
Willie called for one of the horses and rode off in the direction of the Sanderson ranch.
The rest watched until he was out of sight, whereupon Snide turned to the Hardys.
He prodded Joe with a foot. “How'd you jerks get here, anyway?” he rasped.
Receiving no answer, he continued, “Oh, more heroic guys, eh, like your friends in the cave?”
He was interrupted by a sudden shout. “Hey, here's how the bozos got here!”
One of the cowboys appeared from behind the barn, leading the mule. “Ain't this the critter we snatched?” Snide asked. “We'll use him to carry more dynamite,” he added. “Let's move.”
“Where to?”
“We'll hit the swamp and check up on the oil-rig stuff before we start drilling.”
Frank was thrown over the front of Snide's horse, and Joe against the pommel of a cowboy's mount. Doubled up in this uncomfortable manner, they were carried toward Wildcat Swamp.
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