CHAPTER XV

A Lofty Lookout

THE blast was followed immediately by a rosy light which spread over the horizon like the aurora borealis. The glow lasted for five minutes, then disappeared.

“That’s Rosy,” Frank said, recalling what Yancy had told him about the weird light. “I’ll bet it’s some sort of trick to scare the superstitious hillbillies.”

“But why?” queried Biff.

The Hardys both guessed that the strange phenomenon was designed by the criminals to keep the local people in a state of fear so they would not interfere with the gang’s project.

“Whatever that is,” added Joe.

“If their leader can make that kind of magic,” Frank went on, “think what’ll happen to anyone who defected or refused to obey orders.”

This line of reasoning interested Tony particularly.

“Then you think Rosy has something to do with the road and bridge construction trouble?”

“Yes,” Frank replied, “but the explosion puzzles me. I don’t think it sounded like dynamite. I suggest we go on a hunt for Rosy after we get some shut-eye.”

By now the pink hue had died away. The weary foursome selected a sheltered spot, carpeted with pine needles, and flopped down. In a minute all were sleeping soundly.

The sun’s rays slanting into his eyes awakened Frank. He aroused the others, who stretched and yawned.

“I could have slept all day,” said Biff, standing up to flex his muscles.

“Not when we have a date with Rosy,” Joe quipped.

Biff came right back. “I wonder if she’s as cute as Iola Morton.”

Scouting around for a few minutes, Tony found a rivulet of clear spring water. After a refreshing drink, the boys bathed their faces and hands. Next, Chet’s gift of grub was divided equally.

When they finished eating, the Hardys decided they should follow the trail which forked up the mountain, since the light seemed to have come from that general direction. Single file, the boys trudged up the slope, circumventing the bear cave.

Suddenly Joe stopped dead in his tracks. “Frank, look at that!” he said, pointing.

They all glanced to the top of the ridge.

“What do you see?” Biff asked.

“The tallest pine tree right there in the center. Watch near the top.”

A moment later there was a glint as the sun’s rays bounced off a bright object.

“Binoculars!” said Frank.

“Mama mia!” Tony burst out. “A lookout. The gang must have a hideout nearby.”

The boys agreed this would be the most likely place for the gang to post a sentry. A spy, high in the tree, could command a view of the valley and the entire road project. Anybody coming or going on the trail would be in the sweep of vision.

Frank cautioned everyone to walk parallel to the trail, careful to keep concealed among the trees.

“It might be hard to find the tree when we get there,” Frank said as they neared the ridge. The young sleuths craned their necks but could not see the lookout.

When they reached the summit, the boys glanced in every direction. The boughs grew so thick that it was almost impossible to see the tree-tops in an unbroken line.

“At least,” Joe said, “the spy probably can’t see us so easily. That’s some advantage.”

Frank guessed that they might have drifted too far to the south in their climb. “Let’s walk north along the ridge,” he suggested.

The boys spread out, inspecting one pine after another.

Biff, in the lead, waved wildly, signaling for silence. The others hurried to where he stood at the base of a towering tree. Biff pointed to an odd-looking cut, slightly higher than his head.

“Good night!” Joe whispered. “That’s the spiral sign.”

The carving closely resembled what the Hardys had previously mistaken for an M with three loops.

“This is our tree!” Frank whispered, and looked around at the other side of the trunk. “Oh baby, see what I found!”

A set of spikes, hammered into the tree at regular intervals, provided footholds leading up among the dark branches of the evergreen.

Biff was jubilant. “We’ve treed the polecat,” he said. “Let’s climb up and sack him.”

“That might not be so easy,” Tony said. “We’d probably find ourselves taking a nose dive into the pine needles.”

Frank and Joe agreed with Tony. An assault from below could be dangerous. The person

perched in the tree had the advantage of height. Also, he might alert the gang through a coded flash of some kind.

“Maybe they’ll change lookouts soon,” Frank said. “Our only hope is to wait.”

The boys posted themselves at various spots within a five-yard radius from the tree and began their vigil. Several times the twittering of birds and the warmth of the sun almost lulled them into drowsiness. Time dragged by.

Frank, rubbing his eyes to stay awake, caught the movement of a small piece of bark floating down from the big pine. He glanced up and saw that the branches far above him were shaking. Their quarry was climbing down. Frank sprang to his feet and signaled the others. The boys dashed behind a cluster of nearby pines and watched as a pair of long legs came into view, descending the spikes. Then, with both arms clinging to the trunk, a tall, gangling youth scrambled to the ground. Simultaneously, the Hardys and their pals leaped from hiding and seized him.

“Willy Teeple!” Frank cried out. The hillbilly looked half-frightened to death. He squirmed and struggled, but to no avail.

“What were you doing up there?” Frank asked.

“He’s the long nit, don’t you remember?” Joe put in.

“You-you know about that?” Willy quavered, shaking with fright.

“Of course we do,” Tony said.

“Sure,” Frank went on, “the helix too, and more.”

A look of earnest pleading came into Willy Teeple’s eyes. “Look! You fellows know too much,” he said. “Go away and don’t come back.”

“We’re going to stay right here,” Joe said, “and get to the bottom of this!”

“Please don’t,” Willy implored. “Else you’ll get the same thing that-that happened to your father!”

The mention of Fenton Hardy electrified the boys.

“What do you know about our father?” Frank snapped.

“Did you have anything to do with what happened to him?” demanded Joe.

Willy shook his head, but would say no more about Mr. Hardy.

Both Biff and Tony were all for Willy being turned over to the Boonton police, but the hillbilly begged them not to do this.

“If the boss knows you’ve captured me, he’ll hurt my father,” Willy went on.

“Who’s your boss-the baron?” Joe prodded.

Willy’s face went ashen. “I can’t tell you.”

“What do you expect?” Frank said. “That we just let you go?”

“I won’t fink on you, honest!” Willy Teeple said fervently. “I don’t want to work for those crooks, but if I say any more, they’ll kill me if they find out.”

Willy swore again that he would not betray the Hardys and their friends. While Biff kept an arm-lock on their captive, Frank and Joe stepped to one side to discuss the matter.

“Okay,” Frank said, stepping forward. “Willy, we’ll let you go, but don’t say one single word about seeing us.”

Joe tried another question. “What about Rosy? Is that part of the gang’s scheme?”

Willy, terror in his eyes, remained silent. The boys did find out from him that the trail continued down the other side of the mountain and connected with a narrow road leading to Boonton.

“Fellows, please go away from here. It’s awful dangerous,” Willy pleaded.

At that moment there was a noise in the underbrush. The four boys ducked out of sight while Willy walked nonchalantly toward the sound. Mike Shannon stepped from the brush. The two merely exchanged nods; then, as Willy Teeple hastened back along the mountain trail, Mike climbed up the spikes of the lookout tree.

“What do we do about this guy?” muttered Biff.

“Nothing yet,” said Frank. “We still don’t want to alert the baron.”

“I think we can trust Willy Teeple,” Joe said. “He’s in the gang’s clutches, for sure.”

The four boys set off once more in search of a clue which might lead them to Rosy. As they headed down the opposite slope, Biff, who was in the lead, broke into a trot. Joe was close behind him. Suddenly Biff let out a cry of alarm and disappeared before Joe’s eyes!