The Mystery Of Cabin Island Part 5

"It's an old family recipe," Chet boasted.

"You mean an old family can opener?" Joe rejoined. "I saw all those cans you brought!"

"I had to add special spices, though, and salt and pepper," Chet said defensively. "That's what makes it taste so good."

When the meal was finished, Biff was elected dishwasher. "Scrub hard and you'll develop your boxing biceps," Chet teased. Frank volunteered to help, and soon the kitchen was in order.

The wind was howling louder now, but the interior of the cabin was snug. The boys sat in front of the briskly burning logs in the fireplace and listened to the creaking of low branches against the cabin.

"I wish we could learn what Hanleigh hopes to gain by coming to this place," Joe mused, "or by purchasing it."

"One thing I'm convinced of," said Frank. "He wasn't studying the fireplace just for its artistic look."

"He's certainly nervy with other people's property," Biff remarked.

Frank nodded. "I keep wondering if it was he who ransacked the Jefferson home."

"Again, the question is why?" Joe said.

"I'd think you guys would be more worried about that ghost I saw p.u.s.s.yfooting around here," Chet spoke up plaintively.

"What's more important," said Frank, "is that we don't forget the mystery we're supposed to solve, to find Johnny Jefferson. Joe and I believe he's hiding in this area."

Joe added, "I've a hunch this mystery will be solved near Bayport. Johnny is bound to run out of money, and if he looks for a job, somebody will become suspicious because he's so young."

"Besides," Frank said, "if we stick to our theory that Johnny is searching for the stolen medals, we can be pretty sure he hasn't given up. Not if he's as keen on sleuthing as his grandfather says he is. As far as we know, no one has located Mr Jefferson's collection or the servant suspected of stealing it."

Biff looked puzzled. "I'm glad we're going to stay. But what's this talk about stolen medals and a suspected servant? You've been holding out on us."

"Yes, explain!" Chet gave the Hardys a sideways look. "I have a feeling that once again you two have taken me along on a double-headed mystery!"

The brothers related the story of the missing rosewood box and the priceless collection of honorary medals. As Joe told of the suspect, and of Johnny Jefferson's desire to be a detective, the storm suddenly grew in violence. Snow hissed against the windows and the sashes rattled ominously.

Then, in the distance, the boys heard a m.u.f.fled crash.

"A big tree must have gone down!" Joe exclaimed.

Frank looked at the fire. "Let's each bring in an armload of logs before we go to bed. This is going to be a long, cold night."

The four donned their parkas and took flashlights. Pus.h.i.+ng hard, they managed to open the back door and hurried to the woodshed. Abruptly the boys stopped and listened intently. Through the darkness and the wind-driven sleet and snow came a faint cry.

"Help!"

CHAPTER VIII.

The Mysterious Messenger STARTLED, the boys stood motionless in the swirling snow, scarcely able to believe that someone was crying for help on the dark, ice-locked island.

Then the faint sound came again above the tearing wind. "Help!"

"Where's it coming from?" Biff asked anxiously.

"Hard to tell," Frank replied. "Let's fan out and make a search. Hurry!"

Each boy started off in a different direction. When the pleading cry was repeated, Joe shouted as loudly as he could, "Fellows! This way! Down by the sh.o.r.e!"

He kept following the call for help, trudging through the blowing snow which stung his face. The flashlight's beam did not penetrate the dense whiteness, and Joe could barely see a step ahead.

Frequently he tripped over roots and nearly went sprawling.

Joe was becoming uncertain of his direction. Perhaps his ears had played tricks on him!

The young sleuth stood still until he heard the desperate voice again. "Help!"

"This way!" shouted Joe, moving forward, certain that the cries were coming from somewhere near the boathouse.

Who could the person be? What was he doing on Cabin Island? How could anyone have crossed the ice in the violent storm? Joe beamed his light about in hopes that the other boys would find him.

All at once he realized that the surface had become level and slippery beneath his feet. "I must have stepped onto the ice," Joe thought, and made his way back to land. Where was the stricken person? He must be close by!

A groan came suddenly from Joe's left. Moving the flashlight in a slow arc, he called Gut, "h.e.l.lo? Where are you?"

There was another moan, which tailed off weakly. As the youth moved towards the sound, his foot struck something soft. Joe dropped to his knees and flashed the light downwards. The beam revealed a stranger, barely conscious, his legs pinned beneath the limb of a fallen pine tree.

The man had gone face downwards and his right cheek was crunched into the snow. Joe scrutinized him, but could not place the man from what he could see of his features.

"Frank! Biff! Chet!" Joe called out again. "Here, by the boathouse!"

Meanwhile, Joe attempted to free the victim, but all his strength could not budge the heavy branch. To lift it, the whole tree would have to be levered.

"I'll just have to wait for the others," Joe realized, panting. He crouched alongside the man, trying to s.h.i.+eld him from the biting wind and the snow.

At last Joe saw the dim glow of flashlights moving down the slope. "Over here!" he called. "Hurry!"

"Joe!" came Frank's voice above the wind. "I can see your beam now! We're coming!"

Biff and Chet were close behind Frank, and the three soon reached Joe and the stranger.

"Who is he?" Chet puffed excitedly.

"I never saw him before," Joe replied. "See if you fellows can hoist this branch a bit so I can pull his leg free."

While Joe continued to shelter the man, the others laboriously managed to raise the tree limb.

"Okay - that'll do it!" Joe said, easing the victim free. "Now let's get him to the cabin p.r.o.nto."

As gently as possible, the Hardy boys lifted the stranger and started up the slope-Joe supporting the man's head and shoulders, while Frank carried his legs. Chet and Biff went on ahead to light the way and forge a trail through the drifting, deepening snow.

Inside the cabin, Frank and Joe placed the limp form on the sofa. "The poor fellow may be in shock from exposure and pain," Frank declared. "Chet, bring some blankets. No - don't prop him up, Biff! Keep his head low."

"Shall we try to take off his jacket?" Joe asked.

"No," said Frank. "We don't want to move him too much. I'll just loosen the jacket."

Frank did so and also pulled off the man's boots and cap. The stranger's hair was bristly and carrot-coloured. His round face was blanched, but its rough, weatherbeaten " features, thickly peppered with freckles, gave him the look of an outdoorsman.

The boys covered their patient with blankets and rubbed his hands and feet to stimulate the circulation.

"He's mighty pale!" Chet whispered fearfully. "What do you suppose he's doing out here on a night like this?" Biff asked.

"We'll have to wait until he's able to tell us," Joe replied, and added, "I wish we knew if there are any bones broken."

"We can't get him to Bayport until this storm lets up," Frank said ruefully.

Presently the man began to stir and attempted to mumble something. "Take it easy. You're all right," Joe said soothingly.

The victim began to make weak, convulsive motions, and his mouth twitched. Finally he gasped, "Message - Hardys!"

Frank and Joe exchanged glances of astonishment. Why had the man spoken their name?

The stranger, with a painful effort, articulated, "Must bring message - to - Hardy boys!" Utterly exhausted, he lapsed into unconsciousness.

"A message!" gulped Chet. "From whom?"

Frank shook his head. "I've never seen this man before."

"We'd better learn about the message," Joe declared. "It must be urgent!"

The Hardys gently explored the victim's pockets, but found nothing. "We'll have to wait until he can tell us," Frank finally conceded.

"Trying to speak may have been too much for him," Joe said with concern. The man's breathing had become irregular, and his pallor had increased.

"His hands feel so cold!" Chet murmured.

"It's probably from shock and exposure," Frank told him. "We'll just have to keep him quiet and warm until we can get him to a doctor."

The stranger soon began to mumble again, but what he said was unintelligible. The boys kept an anxious vigil for an hour. At last the man gave a sigh and began to breathe more deeply and regularly. A little colour returned to his face.

"I think he's sleeping normally now," Frank said. "He's worn out."

"So am I!" Chet exclaimed with a yawn. "What a day! Let's go to bed."

"We can't leave this man alone," Joe objected. "We'll have to take turns watching him."

"You're right," Frank agreed. "Besides, someone should keep an eye on the fire. We can't let it go out tonight! I'll stand first watch."

Everyone agreed, and Frank sat by the fire while the others prepared their sleeping bags. Chet and Biff shared the north bedroom. The Hardys were to occupy the one across from it.

The patient continued to sleep soundly, and after two hours, Frank placed a large log on the fire and went to rouse his brother. "Your turn!" he told Joe. "All's well!"

Joe put on a bathrobe and took his place near the fire. The snow had stopped, but the wind was still tearing viciously at the trees and cabin.

As time pa.s.sed, questions again filled Joe's mind. Where was Johnny? What was Hanleigh's interest in Cabin Island? Did the two have any connection? Who was the injured man and what did his cryptic utterance mean? Who had sent the message?

"Lots of questions but no answers," Joe thought with a feeling of frustration. He scowled intently into the fire burning steadily in the grate.

Gradually the warmth radiating from the fireplace, together with the comforting hiss and crackle of the logs, had a soothing effect. The mystery continued to nag at Joe's brain, but he found it harder and harder to focus his thoughts.

"Boy, Chet can sure saw wood!" he said to himself with a grin as a faint sound of snoring drifted from the north bedroom. At last Joe's own eyelids began to droop.

Suddenly the young sleuth gave a start and leaped to his feet. Somewhere in the cabin an eerie noise was shrilling. "Owoooooo!"

Joe did not move, but tensely looked around the room. The weird sound began again with a plaintive quality that was almost human. What could it be?

The boy sternly told himself, "I'm imagining things! It must be one of the fellows. Biff's playing a practical joke on poor old Chet!"

"Owoooooo!" came the wail once more.

Joe walked softly into the bedroom, resolved to surprise the prankster. To his astonishment, he found both Chet and Biff wide awake in their bunks, worried looks on their faces. The two youths were sitting upright and listening to the sound which moaned and then rose to a howl.

"W-what did I t-t-tell you?" Chet quavered. "Th-the ghost - it's right here in the cabin!" He burrowed into his sleeping bag like a rabbit diving for its hole.The noise came again just as Frank strode in to join them from the Hardys' bedroom across the hall.

"Sure is unnerving!" Biff admitted, glancing about uneasily.

"We're going to find out what's happening," Frank declared. "If this is somebody's idea of a joke, I want to get my hands on him."

"You said it!" Biff's momentary apprehension vanished. "We'll rout out that phony spook and really give him something to joke about!"

As the lanky youth hopped out of bed, Chet spoke up fearfully, "Be careful, you guys! You may be asking for all kinds of trouble!"

Frank and Biff donned bathrobes. Then with Joe they took up flashlights and searched the cabin for the source of the sound.

In the kitchen Joe cast his light on the ceiling beams. "I think it's coming from somewhere up in the rafters!" he said.

The sinister shriek seemed to grow louder with every gust of wind.

"You're right!" Biff agreed.

The boys moved their flashlights slowly over the ceiling. Suddenly Frank exclaimed, "Yes, look!" He pointed out thin lines forming a rectangle across the boards.

"It must be a trap door!" Joe said excitedly.

"To the attic, I suppose," Frank reasoned.