Frank and Joe decided to investigate the area while the pilot conducted his inspection. They started walking down the pasture toward the high hill situated at the far end.
“Here are those grooves we saw in our photos,” Frank remarked. “They go from one end of the field to the other.”
He took a tape measure from his pocket and carefully noted the width of the grooves and the distance between them. Pulling out a pencil, he jotted down the figures in his notebook for future reference.
“I still think these grooves were made by the wheels of an airplane,” said Joe.
“But how? The length of the pasture rules out the possibility that a plane could land here,” Frank objected.
The boys continued heading for the hill at the far end. Just short of the tree line they stopped and peered into the murky shadows of the woods. The hill began to slope sharply upward at this point.
“I don't see any caves around here,” Joe observed.
The boys were about to proceed closer when suddenly a man darted out from the woods. The boys recognized him immediately as the stranger who had previously challenged them near this spot. He was now unarmed.
“What are you doing here?” he bellowed. “Get off of this land! It's private property!”
“We were forced down by a storm,” said Joe, pointing toward the helicopter just visible in the distance.
“The storm is over!” the man retorted. “Now you'd better climb into that bird and get out of here!”
“But we don't know if we
can
take off,” said Frank. “We got bounced around pretty bad in the storm. The copter was damagedâhow much, we don't know. Our pilot is inspecting it now.”
“If it won't fly, you'll just have to leave it!” the man growled, his face purpling with anger. “I want you to get out of hereâand fast!”
Meanwhile, out of the corner of his eye, Joe glimpsed a flicker of movement in the woods. He turned his head cautiously in an effort to get a better view. What he saw caused him to grab his brother's arm as a signal not to argue further.
Concealed behind a tree was someone with a vicious-looking hunting bow. An arrow had already been fitted to the string, and was now aimed directly at the boys!
CHAPTER XIV
Amazing Camouflage
WITHOUT further protest, the Hardys turned and started walking back toward the helicopter.
“Take a quick look to your left, Frank,” whispered Joe. “Someone's aiming an arrow at us!”
After taking a few more steps, Frank glanced over his shoulder. At that instant the man armed with the bow and arrow darted from behind one tree to another. The boy detective's keen eye recognized his face immediately.
“Bush Barney!” Frank said softly.
The brothers reached the helicopter just as the pilot was completing his inspection.
“There's some minor damage,” Mack reported, “but not bad enough to prevent us from flying if we have to. You in a hurry?”
“Yes,” said Frank, “we must notify the police about two men who chased us!”
“I can't radio from here,” Mack told him. “But as soon as we're airborne, there won't be any interference.”
“Afterward,” said Frank, “we can come down again and land somewhere out of sight of the pasture and walk back here to meet the officers.”
“Suits me,” said Mack. “I don't like the sound of this motor yet and I'd just as soon come down and work on it some more.”
In a few minutes the whirling rotor blades were carrying the young detectives skyward. Frank asked Mack to radio Bayport tower.
“Our transmitter doesn't have enough wattage to reach that far,” the pilot said. He extracted a sectional air chart from his kit and examined it. “There's an omni radio station with voice facilities much closer to us,” he announced. “If we climb above these hills, we should be able to establish contact, and have them relay a message for you.”
Mack tuned the radio dials to a standard aviation communication frequency, then picked up the microphone and gave his identification number and approximate position. In seconds the speaker on his receiver crackled a response. Mack handed the microphone to Frank and told him to proceed with his message.
Frank requested that word be relayed to the State Police to meet the Hardys at the pasture. He estimated the pasture's location along the secondary road, and as a double check gave its longitude and latitude coordinates from the air chart. Several minutes passed before a response came through.
“The State Police,” the station operator reported, “have been notified. Several officers are on their way to the location you indicated.”
Frank asked Mack to land them close to the pasture, but to approach the area from behind a hill so their craft would not be seen. Mack nodded and began a rapid descent between the hills. He followed a valley that led them back in the general direction of the spot where they had been forced down. Approaching from behind a hill close to the pasture, he maneuvered the helicopter to a soft landing in order not to strain the already partially damaged landing gear.
“Mack, you'd better wait for us here and guard the copter,” Frank suggested.
“Will do.”
The boys carefully picked their way among the trees and brush toward the pasture. Soon it came in sight. Frank and Joe did not speak. They communicated by sign language, which they had practiced until they could use it to perfection.
As silently as a couple of Indians, the Hardys edged their way to the hill situated at the end of the pasture. They stopped for a moment and scanned the dim shadows of the woods. Both of them listened for unusual sounds, but neither saw nor heard anything out of the ordinary.
Frank signaled his brother, indicating that they should proceed on up the slope of the hill. Suddenly he tugged at Joe's arm and pointed directly ahead.
Joe stared before him, but could see only an unbroken mass of trees and bushes. As he stepped closer, however, the trees in the foreground gradually took on an unnatural aspect. It was difficult to tell exactly why, but there was something odd in the way the trunks and leaves reflected the light.
Approaching still closer, the Hardys were amazed to see what really confronted them. Spread across a portion of the steep slope was a huge piece of heavy canvas! Painted on its surface were trees, grass, boulders, and bits of brush. The representation was so well done that it was not detectable unless viewed from within a few feet of the canvas.
“It's fantastic camouflage!” Joe remarked, breaking their silence for the first time.
“Sure is,” Frank agreed, gazing at the canvas almost in disbelief. “I'm willing to bet that behind this is the opening to a cave!”
The young sleuths traced the canvas to where it terminated at one side. Together, they carefully pulled it aside far enough to get a glimpse of what lay behind.
A huge opening was revealed. The Hardys peered inside. Although the interior was practically in blackness, they could see that it was the entrance to a very deep cave of immense size!
Each boy took a pocket flashlight and directed the beams into the darkness. So deep was the cave, however, that the lights appeared to fade off into nothingness.
“I don't hear a sound,” Frank said. “It must be empty.”
“Let's take a look around!” Joe suggested, his voice tense with excitement.
“Okay!” Frank agreed. “But we'll have to let the police know where we are. I'll stay here and keep an eye on the cave. You go back to the copter, tell Mack about this place, and ask him to send the police here.”
Joe started off at a sprint. Frank positioned himself behind some real brush near the camouflaged entrance. It was not long before Joe came bounding back.
“Everything's all set,” he said.
The boys pushed their way around the edge of the canvas and stepped into the cave. As their eyes became accustomed to the dark interior, they could make out rough rocky surfaces curving into an arch high above their heads. The faint sound of their footsteps was amplified in a series of echoes that seemed to bounce back at them from all sides. Frank played his beam of light toward the floor.
“Look!” he said. “There are wheel grooves in here, just like the ones we spotted on the pasture.”
The Hardys followed the ruts deeper into the cave. After advancing for several yards, Joe suddenly came to a stop.
“An airplane!” he exclaimed, astounded.
Frank pointed his flashlight in the same direction. The beams picked from the darkness a sleek, multiengine plane with tricycle landing gear.
“It was taxied in here!” Joe marveled.
“From the pasture,” said Frank. “The floor of this cave is about on the same level as the field, and is right in line with it. The pasture itself is too short to land on or take off from. But this cave floor serves as an extension of the runway. When a plane lands, someone on the ground merely pulls the canvas camouflage aside andâ
presto
âa plane has several hundred feet more to roll on!”
Joe nodded. “And when it comes to rest, inside the cave, it's automatically hidden. Very clever. Could this plane be the same one that toppled our car?”
“I can't say for sure,” his brother responded, “but there's a good chance it is.”
The Hardys continued exploring the cave. A little farther on they spotted a large wooden door. It was padlocked, but they noted that the hinges were not very strong. Each boy pushed hard against a section of the wood. It began to crack, then finally gave way with a resounding smash.
Frank and Joe stepped into a room formed out of the natural rock. They were astonished to see stacks of sturdy wooden boxes piled along the walls. Stamped on the side of each was: STANWIDE MINING AND EQUIPMENT COMPANY.
“Wow!” Joe exclaimed. “There must be fifty or more of these boxes here!”
“And they may contain the stolen platinum parts!” Frank said as he played his light across the stacks. “Let's break open one of the boxes and check.”
The boys placed their flashlights on the floor and positioned the beams toward one stack of boxes. They then walked over, dragged off the box on top, and set it on the floor.
“Whew!” Joe was puffing. “It sure is heavy.”
“We'll need something to pry open the lid,” Frank said, glancing around.
Joe noticed a rusted metal rod lying on one of the stacks. He took it and forced the end under the lid of the box. Then both boys put all their weight against it. After much exertion, they began to loosen the top.
“It's beginning to give a little,” Joe said.
They had nearly accomplished their task when the sound of footsteps interrupted them. The Hardys froze.
“Hands up!” growled a gruff voice from behind them.
CHAPTER XV
Capture
THE surprised boys whirled to find themselves face to face with Bush Barney and the man they had recently encountered in the pasture.
“What are you guys doing here?” the latter snarled. “I told you to get out!” The man fingered the muzzle of his shotgun, which now was pointed at the ground.
Frank and Joe were at a loss for an excuse as to their presence in the cave. Frank realized that nothing he could say would sound believable. But anything was worth a try at this point, he thought.
“We took off in the copter,” he explained nonchalantly, “but it wasn't working right so we landed again. While our pilot was checking the engine, my brother and I decided to walk around a bit. It was quite by accident that we stumbled on this cave.”
Bush Barney turned on a bright electric lantern and hung it on a metal spike hammered into the stone wall of the storeroom. His expression was grim.
“I don't believe a word of it!” he snapped, glancing at his companion. “I'll bet these punks already knew about the cave. They might have even been in here before.”
His confederate gripped the shotgun more tightly. To the boys' relief, he did not raise it.
“Is that right, boys?” he bellowed. “Were you ever in here before?”
“No!” Joe cried out. “As my brother told you, we discovered the cave just nowâby accident!” But the Hardys could see that the two men were not convinced.
Frank tried to estimate the time that had passed since the police were notified. They should be arriving soon, he told himself. In the meantime, he and Joe must keep these men talking.
“Anchor!” said Barney, addressing his partner. “You keep âem covered while I find some rope.” He went out.
The young detectives stood helpless, churning with anger at their predicament. There was no chance for them to attempt to rush at Anchorâhe was watching too closely.
Minutes later, the ex-convict Bush Barney returned to the room, carrying a large coil of rope. He took the shotgun, then handed the rope to Anchor.
“I'll hold this while you tie âem up,” he said.
Barney motioned the boys to put their hands behind their backs, and Anchor uncoiled the rope. Suddenly the sound of approaching footsteps caused the two men to stiffen.
“Anyone in here?” shouted an authoritative voice. “We're the police!”
“Quick! Dowse that light!” Anchor growled to Barney, pointing to the electric lamp hanging from the spike. He then reached out to retrieve his shotgun from Barney.
The Hardys glanced at each other. This was their chance to act! Joe spun around, kicking the shotgun out of Anchor's hands just as it was handed over.
Frank rushed Barney. Before the ex-convict could turn out the lamp, the young sleuth sent him crashing to the floor with a perfect tackle.