Read The Wailing Siren Mystery Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
The Wailing Siren Mystery (9 page)
“No.”
“Did a plane crash around here recently?” Joe queried.
“No.”
“There's an old shack off in the woods,” Frank said, pointing to the direction from which they had come. “Anybody live there?”
“Listen, I ain't answering any more of your nebby questions,” the woodsman said curtly. “Now clear out of here and don't let me see you around these parts again!” He cracked his whip. “Get going!”
Joe thrust out his chin in determination. “We'll go,” he said, “but we don't intend to be ordered around like your animals!”
The man merely glared as the Hardys retreated into the woods, following the trail over which they had come. When they were out of earshot of the woodsman, they stopped to talk over the situation.
“I sure don't care for that guy!” Joe said.
“Same here. I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw a haystack,” Frank agreed.
“His story about breeding wolves for zoos sounded awfully fishy.”
“Of course. It's obvious he's training the wolves to attack people. But why?”
“Probably to scare them out of the woods. The critter that chased me just before I fell into the pit looked an awful lot like Saber,” Joe said.
Suddenly Frank stiffened. “Listen!”
In the distance he had detected the sound of something crashing through the brush.
“Saber!” Joe exclaimed. “The man let him loose!”
“Up a tree!” Frank urged.
The boys raced through the forest until they spotted a couple of fir trees they could climb readily. Leaping to the lowest branches, they pulled themselves up into the trees.
The Hardys were barely a safe distance off the ground when Saber reached them. Snarling and snapping, he pawed at one trunk and then the other. Joe broke off a branch and hurled it down, hitting the wolf on the nose. The infuriated ani mal howled and ran in circles around the tree.
“This beast may not let us down for days,” Joe remarked woefully.
“There's one way we can catch him,” Frank said hopefully. “With a pole and noose. There's a branch above you that's pretty straight.”
Joe climbed up. He cut off the branch and quickly stripped it of twigs and leaves.
“I have a coil of small rope in my pocket,” Frank said, pulling it out.
He threw it across to Joe, who fastened a noose to the end of the pole.
Joe dangled the pole and the noose close to the ground. The wolf snapped at it. With a deft twist, the boy flung the rope over Saber's head.
“Pull!” Frank cried.
The boy hauled the pole upward, but the wolf was heavy. It lashed out fiercely, snarling and gnashing with its fangs. Suddenly the animal freed itself and tumbled to the ground.
“Whew!” Joe exclaimed. “He weighs a ton.” Saber continued to circle the trees but more warily. Joe tried to rope him again, but the wolf would not be tricked the second time.
As the boys wondered what to do, they were startled by a distant wailing noise.
“What's that, Frank? The siren?”
“Sounds like it, but it's mighty faint.”
“Well, what do you know about that?” Joe cried. “Saber's leaving!”
The strange sound seemed to bother the animal. Putting its tail between its legs, Saber slunk off.
“He acts frightened. That sound probably hurts his ears.”
The boys dropped to the ground. “Gosh, I thought I was going to have to live in that tree.” Joe grinned as he stretched his legs. “Let's get back to camp.”
The Hardys found their way to the spot where the canoe was cached. They slid it into the water and paddled rapidly downstream. By the time they rejoined the other boys, the sun was sinking behind the trees to the west.
Chet, Biff, and Tony rushed to the shore to meet their friends.
As Frank and Joe related their adventures, Chet's mouth sagged open.
“A wolf?” he asked in disbelief. “If he picks up our scent, he'll come right into this camp. What say, fellows? Let's get out of here!”
Frank and Joe were fairly sure that even if Saber had picked up their trail, he would get no farther than the place they had put the canoe into the water.
“But to make sure he doesn't bother us again, we'll have to catch the critter,” Joe said determinedly. “With a stockade. We'll build one after chow. How about it, Tony? Do we have trout tonight?”
“Six nice fat rainbows,” Tony told him. “Biff and I caught'em.”
“With my worms,” Chet added.
The boys laughed and joked through the meaL When it was over, Frank said:
“Now to work on the stockade. We'll need saplingsâplenty of 'em.”
A number of small trees grew along the stream and the boys made short work of felling them. Soon a pile of saplings, stripped of their branches, lay on the spot which the Hardys had selected for the trap.
While the others were digging a small trench, Joe and Frank went into the woods for vines with which to tie the saplings together. It did not take the boys long to erect a crude stockade. Frank arranged a small opening on one side with a gate which would drop in place once an animal had entered the trap.
“Now all we need is bait,” Joe said.
“I've some meat that we won't need,” Tony said. “We can use that.” He produced a sizable chunk left over from the piece which the boys had taken along for stew.
“That's perfect,” Frank said.
He fastened the meat to a long string, which, when pulled, would cause the gate to fall shut. They tried it several times to be sure the trap would work.
“Saber ought to tackle this meat before he does us,” Joe said. “I hope this trap's strong enough to hold him. I don't want to be his dessert.”
The site of the trap was some distance from the camp, but the boys could see it from where they sat around the fire exchanging observations on the day's events. When darkness began to fall, Joe got up and stretched sleepily.
“I'm going to tumble in, fellows,” he said. “I'll take a morning watch.”
“Me, too.” Biff yawned.
As Joe rose from the ground, he cried hoarsely, “Fellows, the stockade!”
All heads swung to the direction of the trap where two glowing eyes moved slowly toward the gateway.
CHAPTER XIII
Another Theft
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THE boys heard the stockade gate drop. This was followed by a howling so wild and terrifying that the forest itself seemed to shudder.
Biff and Tony started running toward the stockade.
“Easy,” Frank warned. “Let the beast tire himself out before we take a look.”
Excitedly the boys stood by while the trapped animal thrashed about. It jumped at the walls of the stockade, making the saplings quiver under each assault. Finally the wolf's rage subsided into snarling submission.
“All right, now,” Frank said. “Well see what we caught.”
Beaming their flashlights ahead of them, the boys warily approached the stockade. When they reached the side of it, Joe dropped down on hands and knees.
“Stand on my back,” he said to Frank, “and take a gander over the top.”
Carefully Frank trained his flashlight and peered down from the top of the sapling wall. A large wolf, a heavy collar around its neck, crouched in one corner of the stockade. Its tongue hung out and foam flecked the cruel mouth.
“Saber!” Frank said. “Just as we thought.”
The boys took turns looking down at the trembling animal.
“Th-that's the thing which chased you and Joe?” Chet said to Frank. “Boy, am I glad I stayed in camp!”
“What are we going to do with it?” Biff asked.
He received no immediate answer because Frank and Joe were conferring in low tones near the gate of the stockade.
“We don't have the upper hand here by a long shot,” Frank was saying.
“I see what you mean,” Joe replied. “Saber's master is probably nearby.”
“Right. If only he wasn't armed! We're no match against a man with a gun, Joe!”
The boys decided to put on an act for the benefit of Saber's owner. In a loud voice Frank called out:
“Fellows, let's get out of here! This woods is no place for campers, even with Saber out of circulation.”
“We'll go at the crack of dawn,” Joe agreed loudly. “I don't like the idea of being chewed up.” Then he whispered to his brother, “But we'll come back here without that woodsman knowing about it. Maybe we'll have better luck next time.”
“Saber!” Frank said. “Just
as
we thought!”
as
we thought!”
Guard duty was arranged, but the night passed uneventfully.
The next morning it was decided that Chet, Tony, and Biff would take the canoe and most of the camp equipment downstream. The river must eventually flow into the sea, probably near Barmet Bay.
“Joe and I'll hike back through the woods,” Frank said. “We'll pick up the car, and contact you when we arrive home.”
“What shall we do about Saber?” Joe asked. “We don't dare let him out, but we can't leave him to starve.”
Frank said grimly, “I'll bet that as soon as we go, his owner will come for him.”
The Hardys shoved the laden canoe from shore and watched until their companions had paddled out of sight. Then they slung their packs over their shoulders and started back for the farm where they had left Chet's jalopy.
They had been on their way only a few minutes when Joe said, “Let's go back and see if the woodsman has released Saber. Are you game?”
Caching their packs in a thicket, the boys cautiously retraced their steps until they came to a big rock on a rise of ground. Peering around it, they were able to look down at the stockade. All was quiet except for the growl of the wolf. But as the boys watched, the animal suddenly grew restless, its growl climbing the scale to a thin whine.
“He hears somebody,” Frank said.
“Us, maybe?”
“No. I think that whine means his master is around.”
Suddenly they heard the distant sound of someone coming through the brush and flattened themselves on the ground to escape detection. Whoever it was, was making no effort to conceal his presence, certain that the campers had departed. The tramping of feet became louder, and someone approached the stockade.
“The woodsman!” Joe whispered.
The bearded man stopped, listened, then went to the gate of the stockade. Bending down, he lifted it, and when Saber's head appeared, he snapped a wire leash onto the animal's collar.
“Fool!” the boys heard the woodsman snarl. “Letting yourself get trapped by a bunch of kids.” Then he cuffed the animal, which cringed at his feet. The wolf acted like a beaten puppy.
The man retreated a few paces from the stockade and stood glaring at it. Then he ran up and hurled his body full force against the saplings. They began to give way under the charge.
He repeated the performance and at length the wall crashed in. Angrily the man continued to batter the stockade until it was level with the ground. Then he set off with Saber.
“Whew!” Joe said when the man was out of sight. “Some temper! Well, let's make tracks! We know now that the wolf won't starve.”
It was late in the afternoon before the Hardys reached the road where they had first entered the woods. From there they went straight to the farmhouse and retrieved the jalopy. After thanking the farm woman for letting them park there, the boys hopped in and started for home.
When they pulled up in front of their house, they found Chet sitting on the front steps, a piece of cake in one hand, a banana in the other.
“Hi, fellows!” he called out. “Got a lift into town, so I thought I'd pick up the jalopy.”
Chet said the trip downstream had been uneventful. It had joined the Willow River, which emptied into the bay. Tony had telephoned his home from a waterfront restaurant, and Mrs. Prito had come to pick up the campers in her husband's small truck, and had delivered Chet and his canoe to the Morton home.
As soon as Chet had finished his cake, he decided to drive home. The two tired boys picked up their packs, mounted the front porch steps, and entered the house. Mrs. Hardy flung her arms around them.
“I'm glad you're back,” she said. “Chet has been telling us the wildest tales about wolves and prison pits andâ”
She was interrupted by Aunt Gertrude, who came bustling into the hall from the kitchen. “I'm glad you're back safe, too. But that Morton boy! I'd like to tie his tongue up, scaring your mother with such preposterous stories. I sent him outside with some food to stop his talking. Wolves in North Woods! Ridiculous! Why, there isn't a wolf outside of Siberia, except in a few zoos.”
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