CHAPTER XX

The Abandoned Farm

"captain sharp has something to hide . . . that's clear now," said Fenton Hardy grimly. "He's afraid we know or suspect something."

"And Klack's mixed up in the business and responsible for our failure to get freighter passage," added Joe.

"Mr. McClintock said something about finding a strong-arm man to get freighter tickets for us," Frank said. "How about asking Biff Hooper to help us out?"

Mr. Hardy approved the idea, but said they must be cagey about it. No telephone call; the wire might be tapped. He decided that it might be wise for the boys to stay indoors until they saw the outcome of their experiment.

"Then how can we ask Biff?" Joe wanted to know.

His father called in Mrs. Hardy, who readily

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agreed to the plan he outlined. That afternoon she was to go to the butcher shop where she had traded for years, and ask the owner to deliver a note to Biff with the next order to the Hooper home.

"If the spy follows you, we'll follow him," Mr. Hardy told her.

But the spy in the shadows remained where he was, seemingly not interested in her leaving.

"I must get out of here myself," said Mr. Hardy. "I almost hope he does follow me. I may learn something."

He went upstairs. After a while the boys heard shuffling footsteps in the hall. An old man, white-whiskered and bent with age, peered into the living room.

"I won't be long, boys," he croaked, a twinkle in his eye. "Jest goin' down to the docks to look at a freighter I'm kinda interested in. It's called the Hawk. Keep an eye on the house, and if you see anybody followin* me, don't worry."

The boys laughed. Fenton Hardy's disguise was perfect! The detective let himself out the back door and shuffled down the driveway to the street. Slowly he made his way toward the corner.

Eagerly, his sons watched from the window. Either the suspicions of the spy across the street had not been aroused, or else he was posted there to watch the boys, for he did not stir from his hiding

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place. The boys stayed up late, but their father did not return. It was not until the next morning that they learned from him the Hawk had sailed early the previous evening, ahead of schedule.

"There wasn't anything suspicious about it," he reported. "I've had one of my men posted at the docks for the past two days, looking things over. He watched the Hawk being loaded. Most of the cargo was destined for islands down the coast. A big part of the cargo consisted of large cans of paint."

"Is the spy still on duty?" asked Frank, going to the window. Then he exclaimed, "The man's gone; but I'll bet another fellow has taken his place."

He pointed out a taller, leaner person but just as shabbily dressed as the other. He was strolling back and forth as if waiting for someone who had failed to show up.

The telephone rang. Biff Hooper was calling.

"The trip's off," he said to Joe, who had jumped to the instrument.

"Good," Joe replied. "Good-bye. See you later."

Biff had received the note and obeyed instructions. He had spoken in code in case the wire was being tapped. The note had instructed him to use the expression "the trip's off" if he agreed to try picking up reservations for them that day outside Bayport

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"I wish we could get rid of that spy," said Joe. "If he is a spy."

"We can soon find out," Frank replied after thinking a moment. "I have a plan, and if he leaves, we'll have a pretty good idea why he was posted here."

The ruse was simple. Joe walked out of the house and down the steps. He headed off along the street. The man across the way eyed him carefully, apparently undecided whether or not to follow. When Joe was halfway down the block Frank ran out of the house.

"Joel" he shouted.

His brother turned, looked back.

"Telephone call." Then, as Joe began walking back rapidly toward the house, Frank called out loudly:

"The trip's off."

"The freighter trip?"

"Yes. Mr. McClintock says to forget it. He's leaving town."

Joe came up the steps and into the house. From behind the window curtains the boys watched the man across the street. Apparently he had heard enough, for he walked briskly away and disappeared from sight around the corner.

The ruse had worked! There was no doubt he had gone off to report the news he had heard.

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"Let's get out of here while he's gone," said Frank. "I'd like to follow up something new. You remember when I was on the Wasp I heard a man speak of old Crowfeet? I'd like to find out who he is."

"How?"

"When we were out with Captain Andy Harkness the other night, I heard him mention an Abel Jed-son, a retired old officer. Says he knows every ship along this coast and everybody on them. Suppose we ask him about Crowfeet."

"And Captain Sharp, too," said Joe.

They found Abel Jedson living in a little cottage near the bay, where he could watch the comings and goings of the ships. He was a spry, shrewd little man with a stubby gray beard and twinkling blue eyes.

Cap'n Abel, as he called himself, sat in a rocking chair on the porch, listening to the radio. On the window sill near by was a noisy parrot that squawked, "No boarders wanted!" as the boys came up the walk.

They introduced themselves, and after talking about ships in general, Frank asked, "Have you ever heard any stories about a phantom freighter?"

"Hundreds of 'em," chuckled the old man. "I've been hearin' yarns about phantom freighters ever since I was knee-high. All nonsense."

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Joe asked if he knew Captain Sharp of the Hawk. The old sailor merely cocked his head to one side, looked thoughtful and said he had seen the freighter coming up the bay but knew nothing about it or its captain.

"Ever hear of a man called Crowfeet?" ventured Frank.

Cap'n Abel twiddled the short-wave dial of the radio and brought forth a barrage of squeals that provoked the parrot to rasping protest. "Turn it off! Turn it off!" the bird squawked.

"Crowfeet, huh?" mused Cap'n Abel. "Name seems familiar, somehow. I'll try and remember. Wait till I put on my thinkin' cap."

To put on his thinking cap the old sailor merely closed his eyes tightly and gave the dial another twist. Suddenly the boys jumped in astonishment. Over short wave they heard a gruff voice say, "A23, 151, C2." Then silence.

The numbers printed on the boxes Frank had seen in the hold of the Wasp and on the slip of paper in the Armstrong house!

"Crowfeet," muttered Cap'n Abel, unaware of the excitement the announcement had aroused. "Name certainly does sound familiar. Crowfeet. Seems to me it had something to do with a fellow named Harry-that's it-Harry Piper! That's what folks used to call him-Crowfeet."

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"Is Harry Piper still alive?"

"I dunno. Never heard of him dyin', anyway. Captain Harry Piper of the freighter Falcon."

"The Falcon!" exclaimed Frank.

"That's right. Tell you where you might find out about Harry Piper. When he was ashore he used to live with his brother John, about ten miles out o' town. John had a dairy farm a little ways in from Shore Road."

The Hardys were elated. At last they had unearthed a valuable clue! After thanking Cap'n Abel, they got into the car and set off toward Shore Road.

The Piper farm was difficult to locate. A man cutting grass in a small country cemetery finally put the boys on the right track. He pointed out an abandoned property next to the cemetery.

"John Piper died last year," he informed them. "No one has lived there since."

The boys decided to leave the car and cross the unkempt fields on foot. The whole place was in a state of neglect. Weeds grew high in the yard. Parts of farm machinery lay rusting by a tumbledown fence. The farmhouse windows were boarded up. But the place might hold a clue!

"Let's explore the barn first," suggested Joe.

To their surprise the hayloft was stacked high.

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On the floor was another immense pile of hay, but upon investigation the boys found that it was merely a covering for quantities of animal hides.

"These hides are worth thousands of dollars!" exclaimed Frank, puzzled. "I wonder why they're stored here."

The brothers decided to ask the cemetery caretaker if he knew anything about it, and crossed the fields again to talk to him. The man was amazed to hear the news concerning the hides.

"Can't figure it out," he said. "I haven't seen anyone near the farm since John Piper died."

"Did he have a large herd of cattle?"

"Heck, no. Never kept more'n one cow."

"Let's go back there," Joe cried excitedly. "Something funny about this."

Surprisingly a truck had arrived in their absence and was parked in the barnyard.

"We'd better take it easy," advised Frank. "I don't like this!"

They approached cautiously, circling to the rear of the barn. Quietly they crept up to the back door and opened it. The place seemed as deserted as before. Then the Hardys noticed that the great pile of hay on the barn floor had been scattered from one end of the place to the other. Stepping inside, they gasped in amazement.

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The stacks of hides had disappeared!

"We'd better go out and take a look at that truck," suggested Frank.

Before the boys even started for the door, there was a sudden murmur of voices and sounds of footsteps above them. They looked up just as a huge mass of hay came tumbling down directly at them.

Frank, unable to get out of the way, was knocked to the floor by its weight and completely covered. He held his breath to avoid sucking in the dust until he could fight his way out. When he tried to rise, though, he could not seem to throw off the heavy bulk.

With a startled cry, Joe had leaped back, but too late. Though the hay did not engulf him, a heavy object struck him a glancing blow.

He fell to the floor, unconscious.