The Secret Of The Lost Tunnel Part 14

150 Quickly lifting the horseshoes out of the box, he found a piece of rawhide. Underneath it, in the bottom of the box, lay a sheaf of papers.

"You guessed right, Frank," the general said. "This probably was the box in which the blacksmith kept his records."

This proved to be the case. Sheet after sheet were bills for barrels of nails, bars of iron, and other material used in the old shop. The last piece of paper read: "From Westchester Arms Co., Sheffield, Eng.

30 muskets- 100 cannon b.a.l.l.s." 100 cannon b.a.l.l.s." Below was scrawled, Below was scrawled, "Taken to a.r.s.enal." "Taken to a.r.s.enal."

Seeing the word a.r.s.enal, General Smith's countenance took on a look of renewed interest.

"So old Beaurcgard had his own personal a.r.s.enal!" he said. "That's news to me."

"It wasn't on the blueprint," Joe remarked.

"It must have been one of the plantation's secrets,"* Frank ventured.

"I can understand why," General Smith reasoned. "Whoever controlled the a.r.s.enal controlled the plantation."

"1 think this is a hot clue," Frank spoke up. "If we could find the a.r.s.enal, we might find the gold or at least directions to it."

151 "Frank, you've got something there!" Joe agreed. "Where do you suppose it is?"

"Probably a long distance from the plantation buildings," the general said, "and underground. In the first place, it would be dangerous to bury explosives near the main buildings, and in the second place, it probably would be in a secret spot. I'd suggest we go home and study the blueprint for clues. Also," he added with a look at Chet, "Claude has a surprise for dinner."

"General Smith," Chet said, beaming, "I'd like to be in your regiment!" The boy picked up his camera. "Cut before we go, I want somebody to take a picture of me holding this clue."

Chet posed by the box he had unearthed, while Frank held the camera.

"This is the last one on the film," Frank said. "You'd better not move."

Just as he snapped it, however, Chet lost his balance. General Smith wagged his head as he smilingly led the group to the car.

When they arrived home, Joe noticed two letters lying on the hall table. They were for the Hardys.

"One's from Aunt Gertrude," he said, recognizing the handwriting. "Let's open it first."

He tore off the flap of the envelope, unfolded the crackling piece of paper and read aloud: 152 " 'Dear Boys, 'Dear Boys, I hope you arrived safe and are well. Joe, be careful about getting your feet wet because it makes you sneeze, and if you must race around, don't get overheated, 1 want I'rank to be cautious about solving tliat mysterious telephone call from the woman. Look out for two-faced strangers, too, as people sometimes aren't what they first seem to be. If Chet gets sick from eating too much, I put a bottle of castor oil in the glove compartment in the dashboard. As lor the general . . .'"

Joe reddened clear to the roots of his hair and gulped.

"Go ahead," said the brigadier, smiling as he noticed the boy's embarra.s.sment. "Read on. I can take it!"

" 'As for the general," 'As for the general," Frank continued, Frank continued, "I wish he'd get a haircut now that he's back "I wish he'd get a haircut now that he's back home. Land sakes, I never saw a general with such long hair! Oh, there's the man to cut the gra.s.s. With love.

Aunt Gertrude' "

"Well," said General Smith with a chuckle as he 153 fingered the hair of the nape of his neck, "I promise to reform and get a haircut in Centerville tomorrow."

If the first letter evoked laughter, the second one was destined not to carry any such merriment. Joe opened it, frowned, and read aloud: " 'Hardy Boys, 'Hardy Boys, Clear out and go back to Bayport if you want to stay healthy. Kids who don't mind their own business end up in the graveyard. If Smith finds the gold, he can't claim it regardless.'

It was unsigned.

"Jumping catfis.h.!.+" Joe exploded.

"S-somebody doesn't like us," Chet stammered. "Maybe we'd better go home. I think I've seen enough of the South, anyway."

"What's the postmark?" General Smith asked, taking the envelope. "Centerville, eh?"

"Which means," Frank reasoned, "that Dr. Bush or his men haven't left town. Let's call the police, and see if they've arrested anyone."

The chief informed the general, who telephoned, that no one had returned to the museum, nor had anyone fitting the description of Randolph, Smiley, ot Baby Face been picked up.

154 "So they're still at large," General Smith said reflectively as he reported to the boys.

"Now that this note has come, perhaps you fellows had better retire from the case. Your lives are in danger."

"We'll get Bush before he gets us!" Joe burst out.

"But we've got to act fast," Frank added.

"I admire your spirit." General Smith smiled. "Your plan of taking the offensive is in the best military tradition. An offense is sometimes the best defense. But we'll have to be doubly alert."

"What does this letter mean about your not owning the gold if you find it?" Joe asked.

"That's a lot of jet wash," the brigadier replied. "Of course, the gold that belongs to the bank will be returned to that inst.i.tution, which has survived to this day. The rest of the treasure rightfully belongs to Beauregard Smith's heirs and I'll see that they get il!"

"I wish we knew what Dr. Bush looks like," Frank mused. "We may have seen him many times, but all we know is, he has long legs, carries a black bag, and probably has a number of aliases."

"I'd like to get a picture of the other naif of him," Chet remarked. "Which reminds me I need some film. I'll run into town after dinner and get some."

Leaving the Hardys and the general mulling over their plan of attack, Chet took the coupe and drove 155 to Centerville. He parked in front, of the toxvn's stationery store and went inside. After getting the roll of film he had left there to be developed, he asked for a new one.

"Anything else?" the wizened little man asked.

"Guess not," Chet replied as he paid the man and glanced around the store in wonder.

Everything from jelly beans to furniture cluttered the walls of the establishment. Finally Chet's eyes fell on a string of tiny red b.a.l.l.s hanging from a wooden rack.

"What are they?" he asked.

"Atom crackers."

"Atom crackers? Do you eat 'em?"

"I should say not," said the shriveled little man dryly. "If you ate those, they'd blow you inside out!"

"I get it," Chet said, laughing. "They're like firecrackers."

"Only a hundred times as loud," replied the man. "Want some? Fourth of July'll be here soon."

Chet beamed as he thought of scaring the Hardys with the powerful atom crackers.

"I'll take a dozen."

The man put twelve of the little red b.a.l.l.s in a bag and handed it to Chet. As the boy went &t.i.t the door, the shopkeeper warned him to run away quickly after he lighted the fuse.

156 "They're harmless, but they make enough noise to wake up Jeff Davis."

Intrigued by the thought of setting off an atom cracker, Chet reached into the bag and pulled one out as soon as he reached the sidewalk. Had he noticed that he stood directly across the street from the Centerville Police Station, Chet would have thought twice before he struck the match in his hand.

But Chet, oblivious to everything but the red atom cracker, grinned. He lit the fuse and hopped back, at the same time lifting his hands to his ears. As he did, the bag slipped from his fingers. The atom crackers landed directly on top of the sputtering fuse!

In a trice Centerville shook to the explosion of the atom crackers, which sounded like a bombardment. Chet shuddered at every blast, hoping no more would go off, but the whole twelve sent their rapid-fire reverberations echoing and re-echoing through the sleepy town.

"Oh! Oh!" Chet moaned, seeing people pop their heads out cf doors and windows.

The exclamation was hardly off his lips when three policemen came storming from the station house. All were armed with tommy guns and pistols.

157 Chet's jaw dropped when they rushed at him. "Don't shooU" he begged, his face the picture of abject misery. "I didn't mean to do it!"

"You're the critter, eh?" shouted one of the policemen. "Trying to blow up our town!"

"They were only atom crackers," Chet pleaded.

The officer did not seem to hear. He grabbed Chet by the arm and marched him into the station house. The other two policemen followed in step, which gave the boy the feeling that he was being ushered to the gallows.

"But I didn't mean to do anything," he said with outstretched hands.

"Tell that to the chief."

The officers led the boy before the chief, whose desk was perched on a dais at the end of the room.

"This boy is responsible for that bombardment!" the policeman bellowed.

The chief, a stout man with three distinct chins, leaned forward and looked over his horn-rimmed gla.s.ses.

"I'm going to throw you in jail!" he shouted.

CHAPTER XX.

The Sniper.

don't put me in jail!" Chet pleaded. He visualized himself spending the rest of his life behind bars. "Please, chief, if you put me in jail, I won't be able to get a picture of Dr. Bush."

The words slipped out before the boy thought.

The magistrate raised his eyebrows and the policemen exchanged questioning glances.

"Who's he?" the chief asked.

"The one I got half a picture of in Bayport. He's a thief."

The chief leaned far over the bench. "If there are any pictures of criminals to be taken, you'd better leave it to the police. Furthermore, since you're a stranger in town, I take it you're one of General Smith's guests. I'm going to let you go.

158.

159 But only on one condition-that you don't buy any more atom crackers while you're in Centerville!"

"Yes, sir!" Chet sighed in relief.

"And now tell me," the chief said, "what's this about a Dr. Bush being a thief?"

Chet did not know what to say. He was sure he already had told more than the Hardys would have wanted him to. As the youth hesitated to reply, the officer electrified him by saying: "Some woman called here only yesterday and warned us to pick up a Dr. Bush if he came around. She didn't leave her name."

Chet told the chief a similar request had come to the Hardys in Bayport. The boys had no proof the doctor was around Centerville but suspected he might be. The officer said the police had checked everyone named Bush in the area, and all had good reputations. The wanted Dr. Bush must come from another place.

"We're looking for him," the chief said. "You boys keep your eyes open too."

"We sure will," Chet promised as he left.

Chet had hardly reached the sidewalk when he came face to face with the Hardys who were out of breath from running.

"You all right, Chet?" Frank panted. "We heard a bombardment. What happened? Who started it?"

160 "I did!"

"What?"

diet told about the atom crackers. "It nearly gcs. gcs. me in jail, but it was good it did. Listen, me in jail, but it was good it did. Listen, fel-lo'.vs, that woman your Aunt Gertrude doesn't like called the police here about Doc Bus.h.!.+"

Frank and Joe finally got the story straight. There was no doubt now Dr. Bush was in the neighborhood. And who was the woman? The boys decided to discuss the matter at the house. Before going, Joe said: "I want to get some of those atom crackers."

"Better not shoot 'em off in town before the Fourth," Chet warned. "The cops don't like it!" Then he added, "I got my pictures."

"Let's see them," Frank said as Chet pulled the packet from his pocket, and held them to view under a street light.

Of the eight snaps the boy had taken, only four were clear enough to print. One showed the old museum, another the ruins of the plantation, and the third a hawk which Chet had snapped in midair.

"What's this funny-looking thing?" Joe asked as he examined the fourth print.

"Gee, I don't know." Chet scratched his head.