CHAPTER XVI

THE LEATHER POUCH

chet and Joe hauled wildly at the rope to pull Frank from the pit. He was soon at the top. In his arms he held a leather pouch.

"Treasure!" whooped Chet, almost letting go the rope in his excitement.

Frank stumbled over the brink of the hole and dropped the bag to the ground. As he slipped himself loose from the rope, the others pounced on the find.

The pouch, large and heavy, was tied with a leather thong. Joe opened it and peered within.

"What is it? What's in it?" babbled Chet, capering about as he tried to see.

Joe dug his hand in and produced a palm full of coins. Chet cut loose with a frantic cheer that could be heard as far away as the Morton farmhouse. Frank grabbed the pouch and turned it upside down, dumping its contents on the ground. In awe the boys gazed upon several hundred coins; some gold, some silver.

"The letter was right!" shouted Chet. "We've found the long-buried treasure! Hey, what's the matter with you, Joe? You don't seem to bo excited at all," he complained.

The other was examining the money in his

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hand. Then he looked at the pile on the ground.

'' That's funny,'' he said. '' There's nothing on these coins."

"What do you mean, nothing on them?" asked Chet in amazement.

"I can't tell what kind of coins they are," Joe replied. "The impressions have been melted off them."

This was true. Each piece in the heap was merely a disc of metal, dateless and faceless, with every clue to identification erased. The boys sorted them over. Not a coin had been overlooked in the melting process.

"Why would anybody do that?" asked Chet, bewildered by the discovery.

"So the coins couldn't be traced if they had been stolen," Joe answered.

"But they're no good this way," objected his fat chum.

'' No, but they could be melted into a big lump of gold or silver and sold.''

"Or they could be restamped by a counterfeiter," added Frank.

"You mean to say some thief planned to do such a thing a couple of hundred years ago?" Chet wanted to know.

"No," said Frank. "The fellow who had these coins put them here recently. This leather pouch is a new one."

In dismay Chet looked at the bag and had to agree. He hung his head mournfully.

"You fellows are too smart," he complained.

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"You take all the joy out of life. Here I thought the buried treasure was mine, and now-Say," he said, brightening, as a thought struck him, "how do you explain this pit? Don't tell me your thief dug such a big hole for just one little bag of coins!"

Chet had turned the tables neatly. Now he grinned in satisfaction, for the Hardys had to admit that their chum had made a good point.

"The pit must have been constructed a long time ago," said Frank slowly. "Maybe your treasure was buried there and someone dug it up recently. The thief may even have melted off the markings on the coins he found and then put them back here in a new bag."

"I'll bet there's a lot more money down in this hole," said Chet, cheerful again. "How about that idea of the platforms?" he asked. "Perhaps the one I fell through is just the first of several. Even if these coins aren't part of the treasure, the stuff mentioned in the letter may be hidden down there.''

The boys talked things over. It was decided that since Joe had not been down at all, lit* should be the one to go. He picked up the rope and a shovel. The other two lowered him carefully into the pit.

On the floor of it Joe rummaged through th«, debris, then began digging for another platform. After a while he gave the order to haul up. When he scrambled back to the surface, he shook his head.

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"Solid bottom," he reported. "Just earth and rocks. There was only one platform and only one pouch. We've found all there was to find."

"Now I don't know whether these coins are the treasure we're looking for or not," sighed Chet. "Let's take them up to the house and show them to Dad."

"All right, but first I'd like to investigate something else. Suppose you go on up to the house, Chet. I want to follow the line on this map and see if I can get any clues to the man we want to locate."

"I'll go with you," offered Joe.

Chet trundled off to see his father, while the Hardys searched the ground and also several farm buildings which were on the route. They found nothing. Presently they came to the small town of Hixon.

"Let's ask a few questions around here and see what we can find out,'' suggested Frank.

"We can't very well ask people if they're thieves, can we ?" grinned Joe.

'' No, but we might get wind of someone with a Spanish woman's head tattooed on his chest."

"That's right. And there might be someone around who collects coins or is interested in them in some special way."

The brothers separated and combed the town for information. An hour later they met at a restaurant. Each one reported total failure.

"I guess my idea wasn't so good," Frank

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conceded. "Well, let's eat and get back to the Mortons'. We 're supposed to be in hiding from Blackbeard, you know," he grinned.

He and Joe read the menu. After they had eaten several delicious, home-cooked dishes, they wished Chet had come along. He could have done better justice to the apple pie and cheese than they possibly could.

"Before we leave," said Joe, "I believe I'll phone home and see if there's any news. Maybe 'Mr. Spanish' has regained his memory."

Such was not the case, as the boy learned from Aunt Gertrude. She had other information of importance, however.

"I suppose you and Frank will have to come traipsing back here," she said. "But why you get yourselves involved in so many things, I don't understand. When I was your age, young folks weren't allowed to be going in and out, in and out all the time."

"What's happened, Aunty?" asked Joe.

"Plenty. A fine coin collection has been stolen here in Bayport!"

"WThat!"

"You heard me."

"Whose collection?" Joe shouted.

"You don't have to scream at me," replied Aunt Gertrude. "Mr. Carter was robbed. He wants to see you boys right away."

"We'll get there as fast as we can!"

Joe hung up, hurried to Frank, and reported what he had just heard.

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"How are we going to get to Bayport?" his brother groaned. "There's no train or bus from here, and we haven't a car or a bicycle."

'' If my eyes don't fail me, we '11 go there by truck," said Joe, dashing from the restaurant. Frank followed.

Down the street came an empty vehicle from the Prito Construction Company. On the driver's seat sat the Hardy boys' friend Tony, who worked for his father when he was not at school.

"Hey!" yelled Joe.

Tony grinned and pulled tip at the curb. "Want a ride? Free service to Bayport."

"You bet we do."

The brothers climbed aboard and soon were back in their home town. Tony dropped them off near Mr. Carter's residence. Frank and Joe found the numismatist in his library talking to Chief Collig.

'' It was the hobby of a lifetime,'' the collector was saying sadly. "I spent many years collecting those coins. Now they're gone. I suppose I'll never see them again."

"Don't give up hope," said the officer. ""We'll do our best to recover them."

The boys were told the story of the theft. Mr. Carter had gone to bed the previous night after having spent a quiet hour rearranging his collection. The coins had been locked in a cabinet in his library.

That morning, shortly after breakfast, he

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had entered the room to find the cabinet door forced open and the collection gone. The thief or thieves had gained access by jimmying one of the library windows.

"I wish I had taken your advice, boys, and guarded the coins more carefully," the man said.

"All we have to work on are a few footprints, '' said Chief Collig to the Hardys. '' But we'll solve the case, never fear."

"I'd like to see the footprints," said Frank. "Do they match any you have on record, Chief?"

Collig replied that they did not. Accordingly he assumed the thief was not a wanted criminal. He led the way outside and paused before the library window. A flower bed close to the side of the house revealed two marks.

"The thief had to step in soft earth," the chief pointed out. "That was a break for us. Those footprints may land him in jail."

Frank was down on hands and knees examining the marks. Suddenly he straightened up and pulled something from his pocket.

"What's that?" asked Collig.

"Impressions of footprints I made a few days ago. Remember I brought them to headquarters?"

Collig grew red in the face. He watched in embarrassment as the boy compared the two sets of prints, almost hoping they would not be identical. But they matched perfectly.

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"Well, I have to give you credit," said the chief. "But I don't know what good this information is going to do us. Where'd you see these footprints the first time?"

"On Chet Morton's farm. One night somebody knocked our friend out in a field. We've been trying to find the fellow ever since. This was the only clue we had."

"Hmph." Chief Collig looked thoughtful. "Did you figure he was a thief?"

"We weren't sure, but now I'm certain he is," replied Prank.

"I'll call up some of the police departments in neighboring towns and tell them to be on the lookout for anybody selling old coins," said the officer.

"How about Doctor Wakefield's collection?" Joe suggested. "The professor may be next on the list if the thief is still in town.''

"That's so," agreed Collig. "I'll find out if he's had any trouble."

"Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to keep an eye on his house," suggested Joe. "You might catch the thief red-handed."

"Just what I had in mind," declared the chief hastily. "You took the words out of my mouth. I'll set a trap. I'll have this case cleared up in a few hours.''

Frank and Joe winked at each other. After the officer had gone back to headquarters, the younger boy said:

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"If there's any excitement around Doctor Wakefield's place, I'd like to be in on it. Jerry Gilroy's house is just across the street from the doctor's. What say we ask Jerry to let us watch from a front window?"

Frank was enthusiastic about the idea. He thought no one would come until after dark, so the boys went home for a while, instead of to Chet's. They telephoned to him, however, telling him about the matching footprints.

"Maybe the fellow who whammed you will be caught tonight," Joe informed his chum enthusiastically.

"Gee, I sure hope so," replied Chet.

He went on to say that his father had gone out, and so he had not yet had a chance to show him the melted coins. Chet promised to go back to the field and stay on guard.

After darkness had fallen that night, the Hardy boys slipped from the house and hurried over to Jerry Gilroy's. Jerry readily agreed to let the Hardy boys use the living room as a post of observation, and offered to help them watch Doctor Wakefield's residence. The three took up positions behind the curtains, where they could see what was going on across the street.

For a while nothing happened. An occasional car sped down the road and passed by. Then Frank suddenly nudged his brother.

"Look who's coming!"

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Down the street shuffled a bearded, bespectacled old man. He glanced neither to right nor to left.

"Looks like Batchy!" exclaimed Joe.

They watched the old fellow's progress along the sidewalk. When he reached the Wakefield house, he turned in at the front walk and slowly climbed the porch steps. They saw him stand for a few moments at the door. Then it was opened by Doctor Wakefield and the caller went inside.

"I suppose a detective is hiding somewhere around to see if any funny business goes on," remarked Frank.

"Yes, if Chief Collig carried out his plan," agreed Joe.

"I hope something does happen," said Jerry. "This street is so peaceful, I believe a little excitement would be a good thing for it. Oh, look, that old man is coming out.''

Batchy's visit had been very brief. The door of the house had opened again. Apparently Doctor Wakefield did not show his visitor out, for the caller himself closed the door.

He crossed the veranda. Slowly he came down the steps and plodded off up the street.

"Probably called on Doctor Wakefield to have another look at the collection,'' said Frank.

"And nothing happened," added Jerry in disgust. '' Why couldn't we have had a robbery or something?"

"Nevertheless, it's queer the way Batchy

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keeps popping up whenever we 're suspicious of something," Frank remarked.

The boys watched the old man as he disappeared from view into the darkness beyond the corner street light.

"Shall we go home?" Joe asked his brother. "I guess Doctor Wakefield's collection is safe enough.''

"Let's wait a while longer," pleaded Frank.

Another minute passed. Then abruptly the silence of the deserted street was broken by the shrill blast of a police whistle!