CHAPTER IV

Fingerprint Trap

jack's passengers clung desperately to their seats as the tilted plane spun and skidded through the soft earth. Inches from the busy roadway it came to a halt. There was a moment of silence.

"Great work, Jack!" Frank found his voice.

Cap slapped the pilot on the shoulder, as Joe added his praise. Only Jack Wayne's great skill had kept the plane from turning over and had saved the Hardy boys and Cap Bailey from being injured.

"This is a tough accident," the track coach said. "How did it happen?"

"The retaining collar slipped off," Jack replied, after examining the landing gear. "But I can't understand why. A cotter pin holds the collar tight and that keeps the wheel on the axle. I checked the plane this morning. There wasn't anything wrong with that wheel."

Frank, Joe, and Cap looked at one another, the

26

Fingerprint Trap 2?

same question in each one's mind. Had someone tampered with the plane because of them?

"Jack, would it be hard for a person to loosen one of these wheels?" Frank asked.

"Any good mechanic would know how," the pilot answered. "Why?"

Frank told him of the attack on Cap. It was entirely possible that someone had taken this fiendish method of trying to stop the trio from making the trip.

"I guess we'll have to travel by train after all," Cap said.

"Nothing of the sort." A determined gleam came into Jack Wayne's eyes. "I'll get another plane. Perhaps the airport manager will let me borrow his. We shan't be delayed more than fifteen minutes."

His confidence in the friendly airport manager was not misplaced. After hearing their plight, he readily offered the use of his private plane. The travelers transferred their equipment at once.

Again Jack taxied to the runway, warmed his engine, and lined up for the take-off. This time the plane rolled smoothly down the hard surface, rose into the morning air above Bayport, and headed for Green Sand Lake.

Presently Joe found himself admiring the unlimited view. In the clear air he could spot landmarks he knew were twenty-five, even thirty miles distant. He could even make out another plane, a

28 The Secret of Wildcat Swamp

mere dot on the horizon behind them. Ten minutes later the plane was still there, exactly the same distance away.

"Frank, do you think that pilot could be following us for no good reason?" he asked.

Craning his neck, Frank scanned the horizon to their rear.

"How long has it been in sight?"

"Long enough for me to become suspicious," Joe replied.

"What's the matter, boys?" Cap spoke up.

Joe explained, then told Jack. "How about slowing down and letting him pass?" he suggested. "Maybe we can identify him."

Jack throttled back but so did the pursuer, remaining far to the rear. All the boys could discern was that the plane was a low-winged, single-engine type similar to their own.

At length Jack Wayne eased off his power and slanted down for a flawless landing on the small Green Sand airport. The plane behind them made no attempt to land, and soon disappeared in the distance.

"Guess we were mistaken about that fellow," Cap observed, as they unloaded the baggage. A few minutes later the pilot wished his passengers good luck and started back for Bayport.

Green Sand airport was a desolate spot in rough country several miles from town. It boasted one

Fingerprint Trap 29

large frame building, a sort of combination hangar and administration shack.

"I'll try to arrange some transportation to the fossil area," Bailey said.

He walked into the building, leaving the Hardys in charge of the luggage. A few seconds later Frank, peering upward, said:

"Here comes another plane. And from the make it could be the one that was following us."

The trim, low-winged craft droned around the field, making its traffic pattern. Then the blaring engine quieted and the ship floated in to a fast landing.

The pilot taxied in front of the boys, whirling his ship around and blasting them with a dusty slip stream. He cut the switch, and without so much as a nod, walked off to the hangar.

The stranger was a tall man with slick black hair. But his eyebrows were surprisingly light, which made his eyes seem like black marbles. His nose looked like a bony blade stuck on his thin face.

"Sociable guy," Joe said with a wry grin.

"Don't like him," Frank said crisply. "Did you notice his walk?"

"Queer," Joe agreed. "He slithers like a ... well, like a snake. I wonder who he is."

"You couldn't find out from his plane," Frank observed, walking closer to it. "The identification numbers are practically weathered off."

30 The Secret of Wildcat Swamp

"Or rubbed off on purpose," Joe suggested. "And say, look at that little insigne on the cowling."

"A snake," Frank whispered. "A snake eating a bird! It fits the fellow all right."

A fuel truck rolled toward them. As it drew closer, the boys discovered that the beak-nosed pilot was riding with the driver. He alighted and strode up to the Hardys.

"What's the idea of snooping around my ship?" he demanded.

"We were just looking it over," Frank said casually. "We wondered how you can fly it without license numbers."

"That's none of your business," the man snapped. "It's due for a new paint job at the end of this run, since you're so worried about it. Now I'll thank you to move on."

He turned to the gas-truck driver. "Get me a taxi," he said.

The driver nodded, completed his refueling job, and rode off with the pilot. At the same moment Cap Bailey pulled up in an old-fashioned rented car, and the boys put the luggage on its roof. They set off, following directions to the fossil area. Twenty minutes later they reached the famous spot.

"The sand really has a greenish look," Frank observed.

Cap smiled. "You'll find that the study of fossils is pretty interesting. Paleontologists who dig them

Fingerprint Trap 31

up are the detectives of the past, and fossils are their clues. You can tell from them what the climate was; if the place where they lie buried was dry land or ocean. The land we're standing on was once deep beneath the sea."

"This far inland?" Joe remarked.

"Even farther. That's why Chet found a seashell in the middle of a hayfield. This green sand was left behind by an immense sea that covered the eastern part of the country many centuries after the bra-chiopods died. By the way, this sand makes very good fertilizer."

"Like cheese, eh? When it's green, it's ripe!" Joe quipped.

"Another interesting fact fossil hunting teaches us," Cap went on, "is that the farther back you go in history the larger the animals were. Right here in the United States there once roamed the largest animals in the world-dinosaurs, and flying reptiles with a wingspread of twenty-five feet."

"Man didn't have much chance," Frank observed.

Cap smiled. "It wasn't too long ago that certain scientists thought they had figured out how tall prehistoric men must have been."

"You mean by comparing them with the animals?" Joe asked. When Cap nodded, he said, "How tall were Adam and Eve?"

"Adam was one hundred twenty-three feet, nine

32 The Secret of Wildcat Swamp

inches tall. Eve was a comparative midget. Only one hundred eighteen feet, nine inches."

"Wow!"

Bailey grinned. "It's a good thing other scientists found bones of prehistoric man to disprove it."

The conversation turned to more serious matters. Cap asked the boys if they felt sure they had eluded any pursuers interested in stealing his map of Wildcat Swamp.

"I don't trust that pilot who flew in right after we did," Frank answered.

"Since we seem to be watched," Joe said, "maybe we ought to rig up a booby trap."

"What kind?" Cap asked.

"Well, if I were after any papers of yours, I'd figure they were in that brief case you carry. Let's take out what's important and leave the brief case in the car. Then we can walk out into the dry lake, circle around, and watch."

"Good idea," Frank agreed.

"And in case someone takes that brief case, how about a little of that powder we have in our pack, Joe?"

Frank opened one of the bags and took out a plastic tube.

"What is it?" Bailey asked.

"A special dye powder. We'll sprinkle it lightly over your brief case. It's the same color as the leather, but if anyone gets it on his hands, a green

Fingerprint Trap 33

stain will show up in a few minutes. And he'll have a terrible time washing it off."

"We may not catch the villain red-handed, but we'll sure catch him green-handed," Frank chuckled.

The trap was laid quickly and the car parked in plain sight. The three worked their way across the dry lake bed, around boulders, and through scraggly stunted brush, until the car was out of sight behind a low hill.

"Now let's hurry to the top of that hill and wait," Frank urged.

But before they could reach the top a voice hailed them, "Hey there! What are you up to?"

Cap and the Hardys stopped in their tracks and turned. A uniformed policeman had dismounted from a horse and was hurrying toward them.

"I've been watching you," the officer puffed. "You don't act like fossil hunters to me. I patrol this area every day-lots of them perfessor guys get lost out here-but you ain't fossil men. You ain't even got any equipment."

"No, we're not here for fossils," Cap admitted. He told the policeman of the trap they had just laid and why. "Will you help us?" the teacher asked.

The policeman became interested. "Hm. Sounds exciting, and nothing exciting ever happens out here. My inspection's over. I'll go along with you. But don't try any funny tricks."

34 The Secret of Wildcat Swamp

He plodded behind the others up the low hill and crouched with them in a clump of thick brush.

"Hope we don't have to wait all night," the officer said. "It's nearly sundown now."

"We won't have to wait at all," Joe whispered excitedly. "Look!"

There was a movement in the weeds near the car. Suddenly two men stood upright, glancing about furtively. Then, swiftly and silently, they moved to the car and opened a rear door.