The Secret Of The Lost Tunnel Part 4

Farther on, the street gave way to a square, on the edge of which sprawled a handful of stores, a small but stately courthouse, and a tall-pillared hotel. A. solitary, bewhiskered man sat on the porch of the hostelry, smoking and rocking.

"Looks mighty sleepy around here," diet remarked. "I think I'm going to fit right in with this life."

"A peaceful old town," the general replied, smiling. "My place is a quarter mile down the road."

Frank drove on, and presently the general pointed out a driveway, which cut through a thick hedge of boxwood.

"Here's headquarters," he said as Frank stopped before a yellow, clapboard house with tall, shuttered windows and doors, nestled far back from the road.

"What a swell place!" Chet exclaimed. "I'm going to sit under this big tree and eat and sleep-"

"I thought you were the official photographer on this mission," the general said, his eyes twinkling.

"Correct!" Frank agreed as they carried their luggage into the house. "Hup, two, three, four! Come on, Chet, there's work to be dene."

The wing of the general's home, which he said 45 they would use, consisted of a long living room, a kitchen, and two bedrooms above.

General Smith ushered the boys into the larger of the bedrooms.

"You fellows will bunk here," he said.

"Pretty fancy bunks," Frank remarked, eying the mahogany four-poster bed, large enough for the three boys, and silk hangings at the windows.

General Smith grinned. "I picked this place up cheap and have left it just the way it was.

But for us it's just headquarters."

"When do we shove off on the offensive?" Frank asked.

"Not until tomorrow morning," the officer replied. "I'd like you boys to get acquainted with Centerville first."

"What I want to know," Chet piped up, "is where chow is!"

"Follow me." The general led the way downstairs and into the kitchen. He opened the door of a s.h.i.+ny white refrigerator, whose shelves were laden with food.

"Wow!" Chet exclaimed. "How did this happen?"

"Centerville's butcher has a duplicate key to this house," the general explained. "I sent Mr. Oakes a wire instructing him 10 provision up for four hungry men.'

46 The boys set to work preparing the evening meal. When they finished eating, General Smith suggested they set off for town.

Evening was casting long shadows on the square when they arrived in Centerville.

General SrniJi pointed out several large houses whose history dated from the Revolution, then stopped to talk with two men lounging on the hotel steps.

"How's everything?" he asked, after introducing the boys as friends from the North.

"Tolerable good," said one of the men, a gaunt-faced fellow who answered to the name of Jeb. "But there's too many furriners aroamin' these parts."

Frank, Joe, and Chet colored up. Did he mean them? The general shot an uneasy glance at Jeb, then bade the men good night.

"What do you think Jeb meant by foreigners?" Joe asked when they were out of earshot of the men.

"One of two things," the officer replied. "He could have meant you boys, of course, but he probably meant some other strangers that have come to Centerville. Maybe Bush. I don't like it. lew tourists visit the town this time of year."

When they returned to the house, General Smith and the boys discussed the plans for the next day.

"It seems to me," Frank said, "that the best way to try locating the missing bandoleer would be to 47 reconstruct the movements of the spy Bingham."

"Good idea," the general agreed. "Tomorrow we'll go to the farmhouse where my grandfather had his headquarters. The main part is still intact; lies just off the battlefield."

"Anybody living there?" Joe asked.

"No; it's a private museum with an old Negro caretaker. People seldom visit it any more."

"What'll we do when we get there?" Chet wanted to know.

"Put ourselves in Charles Bingham's place," Frank replied. "Suppose, Chet, that you're the spy, and that camera over your shoulder is the bandoleer, what would you do?"

Chet grinned. "Take a picture."

His friends laughed. Joe, yawning, said he was going to hit that four-poster so he could be good and fresh in the morning. The rest followed him upstairs.

"Hurry, Frank," Joe said.

"Why?"

"Chet snores."

The next morning, the general, his two boy detectives, and their "photographer" drove to Rocky Run. Low, undulating hills, with fringes of trees like Indian topknots, spread before them as they approached the battlefield.

48 "It wasn't as still and peaceful as this in 1863," th? officer remarked, surveying the fields and woodlands. "Well, there's Grandfather's headquarters."

Prank drove up to the old building and let the motor idle. What remained of the one-story farmhouse was in fair condition, with ivy vines blotting out parts of the red brick. Off to the left stood two stone pillars, which apparently had been the corner supports of a porch. On the right could be seen the crumbling remains of a wing. Two windows stood bleakly on either side of a large door which bore a metal sign Rocky Run Museum. Rocky Run Museum.

"We'll park here," the general said. "Now, figuring that the spy Bingham left this spot with the bandoleer, which way would he go?"

Frank and Joe pondered for a moment. To then astonishment Chet set off like a hound after a hare, Soon he was out of sight of the old farmhouse and1 into a clump of trees on the brow of a little hill. As he looked around, Chet said to himself: "I think Bingham went right up here to get a better view of the battle."

Suddenly Chet had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being spied upon. He saw something duck behind a thicket off to one side.

He decided to turn the tables on the spy. He Tfould take his picture! Unlimbering his camera 49 as he went, diet cautiously approached the bushes. Sighting the figure through his telescopic view finder, the boy retreated a few paces to get the object in proper focus. The next moment the figure fled ivom the bushes.

Simultaneously Chet stepped back into s.p.a.ce and disappeared!

CHAPTER VII.

On the Spy Trail.

"help!" Chet shouted, flinging out both arms as he fell. The camera flew from his hands.

Frank, Joe, and the general, still mapping their strategy in front of the old headquarters, heard the cry and glanced up the knoll.

"Chet's in trouble!" Frank yelled, and started running.

The others kept close behind him and arrived on the scene almost at the same moment.

There was not a sound.

oiChet! Chet! Where are you?" Frank called.

When there was no answer, the Hardys became alarmed, The general suddenly moved forward into the woods. In a moment he called: "Here he is!"

The officer dropped to his knees beside a deep 51 hole-the onening of which was nearly concealed by a prowth of low bushes and gra.s.s.

"'I've eot one of his legs. Give me a hand with the other, bovs."

joe leaned far over and grasped the other leg. To-getner they pulled Chet to a sprawling position on the level ground.

"Wha-what hit me?" Chet spluttered, still a bit dazed.

"Nothing hit you," General Smith replied. "You fell into a dry well."

"You knew about it?" Frank asked the officer.

"Yes. A log cabin stood on this site years ago. This old well is all that's left of the homestead."

As Cnet rubbed his head ruefully, he told how he haa tumbled in while trying to get a picture of a fleeing figure.

"Where'd he go?" Joe asked excitedly.

"That way." Chet pointed to the right. "He-Heyl Where's my camera?"

It suddenly dawned upon the boy that his telescopic camera zs gone. He dropped flat on his stomach and peered into the well. Only a few rocks and a shred from the seat of his trousers lay on the bottom.

"Help me find it," he pleaded frantically, getting to his feet.

52 Frank and Joe were already on the job. They beat the tall gra.s.s near by and probed into the brush.

As the general joined in the search, Frank said, "It probably flew out of your hands when you dropped down into the wellhole. How about holding a light rock and going through the motions of your fall, Chet?"

"What? Not me!" the boy protested, eying the well.

"Oh, you don't have to fall into the hole again," Frank said, grinning.

Chet picked up a small stone. Keeping a wary eye on the hole, he went through the motions of his spill.

Frank watched the stone sail over Chet's head. When it landed, he was on the spot immediately. He patted the long gra.s.s with his hands.

"Here it is!" he shouted, lifting the camera up. "And not a scratch on it! Luckily it fell into that patch of soft gra.s.s."

Chet took the camera into his hands, caressing it as he would a kitten.

"What about the man you saw?" Joe persisted. "Are you sure sure you saw one?" you saw one?"

"Sure I'm sure," Chet replied, a little hurt by the implication.

"What did he look like?" Frank asked.

53 "I didn't get a good focus on him."

"And he's far away by this time," Joe said ruefully.

"Gee, I'm sorry," diet apologized.

As the group started out of the woods, Frank noticed diet was limping a little and asked if he wanted to go home.

"I'll be okay," the boy answered. "Well, I got in trouble trying to figure out where that spy Bing-ham went. What do you fellows think?"

Frank and Joe shrugged. "I'd like to hear the story of the battle first," Frank said.

"General Smith, will you explain just where the troops were stationed?"

The officer turned to a hill beyond the one from which they had come, and with a sweep of his arm, said, "That ridge was held by the Northern troops. They had three lines of riflemen, backed by a strong force of artillery."

"They pushed down the hill and captured your grandfather's headquarters?" Joe surmised.

"Not exactly. It was in sort of a no man's land. The Southern troops were in this valley when the ittack began. They retreated to that ridge over there." He pointed to another hill a mile distant which was higher and steeper than the one the Federals had held.

54 "If Bingham got into your grandfather's headquarters," Joe continued, "all he'd have to do would be to hide until the battle was over."

"It wasn't as easy as that," the general said, smiling at Joe. "Grandfather had a force of cavalry in reserve. They counterattacked on the left flank and cut a wedge into the opposing forces."

"Then Bingham was checked from going straight back to his own lines," Frank said eagerly.

"It seems to me he wouldn't have had a chance to get through that line of cavalry," the officer said. "It was led by Colonel Stone, the Old Mud Fox, and did sufficient damage to turn the tide of the fight."

"Then Bingham would have had to go around Stone's men and along the Rocky Run,"

Frank reasoned, "until he could contact his own forces again."

"If he tried that," the general said, "he probably ran into more trouble, because artillery, which was rushed to my grandfather's aid, opened up from the opposite ridge. Their cannon fire blasted Bing-ham's possible escape route. From all accounts, it was a terrific fight."