The Haunted Fort Part 14

"Look at this hatchet," Frank urged, "then at the shape of any side of the fort!"

Joe looked at the eastern rampart on the map as his brother's hand covered one of the corner bastions.

"It's like a tomahawk!" he exclaimed. "It must be the clue painted by General Davenport!"

The three boys were greatly excited. "Which side of the fort is the right one, though?" Chet puzzled.

"In the painting the tomahawk was parallel to the west wall! And remember the notches on it near the end of the stock?" said Frank.

"The West Barracks!" Joe said. "The notches must refer to one of the dungeon cells! But that hatchet-throwing ghost-could he know about this clue?"

"I doubt it," Frank said. "He was trying to scare us out of this fort, but the joke may be on him. If we're right, he gave us a swell lead. Maybe we can find Mr. Davenport and the treasure tool Come on!"

Grabbing their shovels, the three moved over to the West Barracks, at the entrance nearest the notches shown in the picture. Spurred by renewed hope, they worked furiously.

An hour later Frank managed to wriggle through a hole they had opened in the rubble. Joe and Chet watched tensely as he lowered himself into blackness.

"It's all right!" Frank called.

The others pa.s.sed the shovels down and joined Frank. Chet squeezed through with the Hardys' help.

The boys switched on their flashlights and found themselves in a long, dank corridor, partially filled with debris.

A row of cells extended along the left wall. The Hardys were eager to explore and started for the nearest cell. Together, the boys inspected one dungeon after another, their rotting wood doors sagging on rusty iron hinges.

Frank and Chet were playing their lights on the floor of the fourth cell when Joe shouted behind them.

"Look-on the back wall!"

His beam focused on faint scratch marks in the stone.

The boys hurried over. Now they saw the scratches formed a definite shape: a broad blade, notched handle, and an encircling chain-identical to the one in the Davenport painting!

"This must have been the Prisoner-Painter's cell!" Frank exclaimed.

They felt the wall with their fingers. Joe frowned. "Solid as steel," he commented. "How about the floor?"

Frank kicked aside the remains of what had been the prisoner's cot. As his foot touched one of the floor stones, it rattled!

"Joe-a shovel!"

Prodding with the spade, Frank levered the large slab, and the others lifted it out. Their flashlights revealed a gaping hole!

CHAPTER XIX.

Dungeon Trap "IT'S not very deep." Frank crouched. "I'll go first."

The Hardys dropped down into the opening and beamed their lights around.

"It's a tunnel!" Joe hissed.

Behind them was a blank stone wall, but ahead stretched the low, dirt pa.s.sageway. Chet lowered shovels and all three moved forward, ducking their heads.

"Easy-this ceiling doesn't look safe," Frank cautioned. "I don't get it. We're going west, which means the chain must be hidden outside the fort. Why?"

"Beats me," Joe replied.

There appeared to be no turns. Farther on, they were surprised to find the tunnel angling downhill, then realized this was because of the fort ditch above.

Suddenly the trio were brought up short by a wall of dirt. Joe whispered. "Do you think it's the end, or a cave-in?"

Frank probed the sloping earth with his spade. "It looks like a cave-in, and a big one."

The three debated about digging through the dirt barrier.

"We'll be risking another cave-in," Frank said. "If only we knew whether or not this tunnel continues. And if it does, where to."

"Let's chance it," Joe urged.

The Bayport sleuths set their flashlights on the floor and began shoveling with utmost care.

Beneath its hard-packed outer layer, the dirt was loose. The boys dumped spadeful after spadeful to one side. Suddenly they stopped digging, and listened, motionless.

Stealthy footsteps were approaching!

Grabbing a flashlight, Joe swung the beam back down the pa.s.sage. It fell on the face of a tall, sullen-faced youth.

"Ronnie Rus.h.!.+"

"Well, I finally caught up to you three. I hitched a ride in a motorboat, and trailed you here at the fort. Did you find the gold chain?"

Ronnie, striding forward defiantly, forgot to duck. His head struck the low ceiling. A thunderous sound followed as the tunnel walls gave way.

"Look out!" Frank cried.

Ronnie leaped ahead. He and the boys went down beneath a barrage of falling earth. Choking dust filled the tunnel pocket. Joe staggered to his feet and thrust a shovel into the ma.s.s of earth. "Frank! We're cut off!"

The Hardys dug furiously, but it was no use. They were sealed in!

"There's not enough air to last the four of us even a couple of hours!" Frank warned. "So every move will have to count."

Chet glowered at Rush, who lay stunned. "If it weren't for you-"

"You really scored this time, Rush," Frank agreed. "But we can't waste air arguing about it."

"I'm-I'm sorry," Ronnie said, contrite for the first time. "I was wrong to snoop, and steal your fort map. I had overheard Mr. Davenport and Mr. Kenyon talking about this treasure, and that you fellows were coming up here and-"

"Conked me to get our map," Joe finished.

Ronnie shook his head, puzzled. "No! I took the map, but I don't know anything about knocking you out-honest!"

As the youth seemed genuinely contrite, the other boys traded glances. If he hadn't struck Joe, who had?

Ronnie looked fearfully around at the enclosing walls.

"I just want to say, in case we-we don't get out of here, I-uh-well, I'm really sorry about Chet's painting and all-"

"Right now, you can be our shovel relief," Frank said tersely.

First the boys recovered their flashlights, then dug steadily. When Chet collapsed with fatigue, Rush took up his shovel. The three lights cut bright spears through the small black s.p.a.ce. Breathing was difficult and their clothes were drenched from exertion.

"Come on! We've got to get through!" Ronnie panted.

Seconds later, Joe's shovel pierced the barrier and a cool draft hit their hot faces.

"We've made it!" Frank shouted.

The boys clawed rapidly with their tools, cutting a wider opening. Then they ducked through single file and advanced slowly; their flashlights beamed ahead. A short distance farther on was a wall with openings to the right and left.

"I'll bet these are infiltration tunnels 1" Joe exclaimed.

They entered the opening to the right, and found it littered with old French weapons, including rusty muskets and three small cannon, but as Frank feared, the tunnel ended in a solid blank wall.

The searchers hastily returned to enter the left-hand opening.

"Frank, how far out from the fort wall do you think we are?" Chet asked.

"Maybe a hundred yards west, probably to the woods. What an ingenious idea-if Chambord ever did use this for infiltration!"

He recalled Mr. Davenport's mention of the Vauban parallel trenches, once used by attacking armies to close in on fortresses. Had Chambord reversed this idea, building these tunnels for defense?

Fifty yards ahead, they reached another dirt wall.

"There's got to be a way out!" Frank reasoned. "Let's try the wall."

They spread out, and with Chet holding the lights, gently probed the dry earth. Minutes later, a section fell away under Ronnie's shovel.

"Here it is!"

Carefully widening the hole just enough, they ducked quickly through and proceeded down a tunnel heading back toward the fort.

"It's parallel to the other," Joe observed.

Presently they came to the beginning of the pa.s.sageway-a wall of dirt.

"Funny," said Frank. "The other tunnel started from a stone wall."

Just then Joe flashed his light above and exclaimed, "Look!"

The beam revealed a square slab of stone. Hopefully the boys pushed it up and minutes later climbed out to find themselves in another cell. Covered with grime, the companions trudged along the dungeon corridor, and picked their way through the debris outside the entrance. They emerged on the parade ground again as dusk was falling.

Suddenly Frank spotted a uniformed man standing at the fort entrance. He ran toward them.

"Alex!" Frank cried out.

"Thank goodness you're safe!" the chauffeur exclaimed. "Mr. Davenport has been found. He's with Mr.

Kenyon right now!"

"Where?" Frank asked.

"Come with me!" Alex led them across to the North Barracks, where an opening had now been cleared through a dungeon entrance-the same where the boys had started digging before the hatchet was thrown.

"Mr. Kenyon found him down here-he's not well!"

Concerned, they slid below, where several lanterns illuminated a dank corridor. The boys stared in amazement at two figures at the far end. One was Jefferson Davenport, propped against the wall with his legs bound. The other was a short, pug-faced man who held a rock over Mr. Davenport's head.

"Adrian Copier!" Joe exclaimed. "Why, you-" Stepping forward, he was blocked by Alex!

"One move, my young Mr. Hardy," he said, smiling coldly, "and Davenport is done for."

As Copier swung the rock menacingly, the chauffeur thrust Frank back. "All of you-on your stomachs on the floor!"

"Why-you're in with them!" Chet muttered incredulously.

"Shut up!" Alex barked.

The boys exchanged hopeless glances, and in order to spare Mr. Davenport, submitted to being tied hand and foot. Then Alex dragged his four prisoners roughly along and pushed them against the wall a short distance from the millionaire.

"I told you we'd get "em!" Alex said. "Those snooping Hardys!"

"Good work!"

A hooded black figure appeared out of the shadows. Spellbound, the boys heard a soft laugh, then saw a gloved hand whisk down the hood to reveal a bearded, hawk-nosed face.

Myles Warren!

CHAPTER XX.