THE MYSTERY AT DEVIL'S PAW.

By FRANKLIN W. DIXON

CHAPTER I.

Highway Attack "Telegram for Frank and Joe Hardy!"

The messenger gave an envelope to the seventeen-year-old, blond-haired boy who answered the door at the Hardys' home in Bayport. Joe signed for it and hurried into the living room.

"Who's it from?" asked Frank Hardy excitedly. The dark-haired boy, a year older than Joe, waited patiently while his brother slit the envelope and took out the telegram.

"It's from Tony!" Joe exclaimed.

Tony Prito, a good friend of the Hardy boys, had gone to Alaska the week before to take a summer job as stream guard with the Fish and Wildlife Service. The two brothers eagerly read the night letter: BELIEVE I HAVE STUMBLED ON A WEIRD.

MYSTERY. MY LIFE MAY BE IN DANGER.

TRY TO COME RIGHT AWAY AND BRING.

CHET MORTON. WHEN YOU ARRIVE JU-NEAU ASK. FOR TED SEWELL AT.

SEAPLANE DOCK.

"Jumping catfish!" Joe exclaimed. "It sounds urgent!"

"Tony must be in real trouble," Frank agreed, frowning. "I sure hope Mom and Dad will let us go-"

Fenton Hardy, the boys' father, had been a famous detective on the New York City police force. After retiring and moving to Bayport, the tall, athletic-looking sleuth had gained even more renown as a private investigator. Frank and Joe, who had inherited their father's zeal for bringing criminals to justice, often helped him unravel his cases.

The two boys hurried out to the garden in back of the house, where Mr. and Mrs. Hardy were seated on lawn chairs, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. Gertrude Hardy, the boys' tall, thin maiden aunt, was serving gla.s.ses of iced tea.

"Dad!" Joe cried excitedly. "May Frank and I go to Alaska?"

"Just like that?" Fenton Hardy chuckled. "Sit down and tell us what this is all about."

"Humph!" put in Aunt Gertrude. "Sounds like another mystery to me. I can always tell the symptoms! You'll freeze to death in Alaska. Mark my words!"

3 "Oh, Auntie!" Joe exclaimed. "Alaska isn't all ice and snow. A few days ago it was eighty degrees in Juneau."

"Seems incredible," Mr. Hardy agreed, "but it's true. The Alaskan Panhandle has weather much like Washington or Oregon, with plenty o rain."

"Then you'll both get wet and die of pneumonia!" Aunt Gertrude went on, not to be deterred.

The brothers suppressed a smile as the conversation about the new state continued.

Only the far north was frigid, Joe recalled from his geography lessons. He even remembered that Alaska was an Aleut Indian name meaning "The Great Land," and was also referred to as the "Crossroads of the World."

"And we can't leave Tony stranded at the crossroads," Frank pleaded. He showed his father the telegram.

Fenton Hardy scanned the message, reflected a moment, then pa.s.sed it to his wife.

"What do you think, Laura?"

Mrs. Hardy, a slim, pretty woman, read the telegram with a slight frown. "It sounds rather dangerous."

"Of course it's dangerous!" Aunt Gertrude had adjusted her spectacles so as to read the telegram over Mrs. Hardy's shoulder. "Alaska is full of man-killing bears and treacherous glaciers," she warned. "And besides, I heard a rumor on the 4 newscast last week that a United States rocket intended for the moon dropped in Alaska!"

"But what's that got to do with our helping Tony?" Frank asked.

"It could happen again!" Miss Hardy retorted in a peppery tone.

"Boy, that would make our trip even more exciting!" Joe said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Aunt Gertrude sighed deeply. "Won't you boys ever take my advice?" she fumed.

After a moment's thought, Mrs. Hardy said, "I'll leave the decision to your father."

The tall, broad-shouldered detective smiled as Frank asked eagerly, "Could we take your plane, Dad?"

Under the direction of Jack Wayne, Mr. Hardy's pilot, both Frank and Joe had become experts at piloting the six-place, single-engine craft which their father had recently purchased.

"I'm afraid not, son," Mr. Hardy replied. "I need it myself. Jack is flying me to Miami to wind up an investigation." Mr. Hardy looked at his sons quizzically. "It'll cost quite a bit to fly to Alaska on the regular airlines."

"We've thought of that, Dad," Frank responded. "Joe and I have saved several hundred dollars from odd jobs. We were putting it aside for an outboard motor."

"But Tony comes first!" Joe added stoutly.

The detective was impressed by his sons' loy5 ally to their friend, and said so. "All right, you have the go-ahead from me, boys. I'll chip in with a few more dollars if you need it!"

"Great, Dad!" Frank pumped his father's hand, while Joe, seized with enthusiasm, waltzed his mother around until she protested that she was getting dizzy.

Jubilant, the boys telephoned Chet Morton. Chet, a stocky, good-natured boy, was the Hardys' friend and cla.s.smate at Bayport High.

"I'll ask my folks if I can go along, too," their chum replied after hearing the news.

"Well, make it snappy!" Frank urged. "We'll have to get plane reservations right away."

Chet promised to let them know his parents' decision as soon as possible and hung up.

Twenty minutes later Chet's noisy jalopy chugged up in front of the Hardys' pleasant, tree-shaded home. The brothers ran out to view the high-sprung and topless car, which gleamed with a fresh coat of red paint.

"How do you like it?" Chet said proudly as he climbed down out of the front seat.

"Good night," Joe groaned. "What museum did you buy that that from?" from?"

"Museum!" Chet glared and wiped the perspiration from his chubby face. "Listen, this baby can really roll!"

"Okay, but how about the trip to Alaska?" Frank asked. "Can you come?"

6 Chet looked worried. "It's okay with my folks, but-well, I'm not sure I ought to go."

"Why not?" Joe demanded. "If Tony's in trouble, you want to help him, don't you?"

"Sure, but that's just it-the danger," danger," Chet replied nervously. "How do I know we won't get Chet replied nervously. "How do I know we won't get plugged by gold thieves or someone? Last time I took a trip with you fellows, I got chained in an underground dungeon!"

Chet referred to their recent adventure in Puerto Rico, where the Hardy boys had tracked down an international ring of lawbreakers responsible for The Ghost at Skeleton The Ghost at Skeleton Rock.

"Stop worrying." Frank chuckled. "Think of the salmon fishing in Alaska! Can't you visualize a nice plump Chinook salmon sizzling on the fire?"

"Mm, boy!" Chet immediately perked up. "Well, okay. We can't let Tony down!"

"That's the spirit," said Joe, slapping the stout boy on the back. "Let's phone for plane reservations!"

The three hurried inside and stood by while Frank dialed the airport ticket office. "Line's busy," he announced impatiently.

After trying for several minutes without success to contact the airport, the Hardys decided to drive there.

"We can take my new hotrod," Chet offered. "It'll get us out there in a jiffy!"

"In one piece?" Frank asked, winking at Joe.

7 "Hop aboard!" Chet commanded.

When the trio had squeezed in, he threw the car into gear and started off with a roar.

Soon they were rolling along the highway toward the airport. When they reached the flight terminal, Frank asked the clerk at the ticket counter for three reservations to Juneau, Alaska.

"How soon do you want to leave?" the clerk inquired.

"Tomorrow morning, if possible."

The clerk shook his head. "Sorry, but we're booked solid for a week as far as Chicago.

That's where you'll make flight connections."

The boys looked at each other in dismay. "Is travel heavy?" Frank asked.

"Well, not exactly," the clerk replied. "In the past few days, several pa.s.sengers who made reservations didn't show up for their flights. In fact, they haven't even been around to ask for refunds on their tickets."

"If any other pa.s.sengers don't show up," Joe queried, "can we take their places?"

"Certainly, if you're standing by at flight time. But, you understand, I can't guarantee accommodations."

After a hasty conference the boys accepted this arrangement. "If we can't get s.p.a.ce in the next twenty-four hours, let's hop a train or bus," Frank suggested.

Joe and Chet both agreed to this. As they 8 turned away from the counter, Joe gave his brother a slight nudge.

"What's up?" Frank asked quietly.

"Take a look at that man next to the water cooler. He's been listening to everything we said."

The stranger, dark-haired and with piercing eyes, seemed to realize that the boys were talking about him. Hastily he walked away and strode out the front door of the terminal.

"Who was he?" asked Chet.

"Search me," Joe replied. "Maybe he was just nosy, but he might have had a reason for eavesdropping on us."

Hurrying out of the building, the boys looked around, but the man had disappeared.

The trio climbed into the jalopy and headed back toward Bayport, with Chet clinging to the wheel like a racing driver.

"Okay, Barney Oldfield," Joe teased him. "Give it more gas or we'll be arrested for holding up traffic."

Glancing at his rear-view mirror, Chet remarked, "That truck in back of us certainly is highballing."

Frank and Joe turned their heads to see a large black vehicle approaching them, exceeding the speed limit.

"Give that cowboy plenty of room to pa.s.s," Frank said.

"Right." Chet drove closer to the side of the 9 road, only inches from the edge of a ditch which separated the highway from a strip of wooded land.

With the roar of the truck directly behind him, Chet gave the signal to pa.s.s. Suddenly he looked to his left and exclaimed, "Hey, stop crowding me!"

"Look out there!" Joe cried. The truck's cab was so high that he could not see the driver.

The next instant the side of the pa.s.sing truck brushed Chet's jalopy. With a sickening sc.r.a.ping sound and the shriek of rubber against pavement, the boys' car tumbled into the ditch, coming to rest on its side.

Seconds later, stunned from the accident, the Hardys crawled clear of the car. The truck was out of sight.

"O-oh, my head!" Joe groaned as he struggled to collect his wits. Chet lay grotesquely over the wheel, his eyes closed.

The brothers eased their friend gently from the jalopy. While they were trying to revive him, several pa.s.sing motorists stopped to offer a.s.sistance.

"I'll call the police," a woman promised. "There should be a phone at the next gas station."

In a matter of minutes, a state police car arrived at the scene and two officers got out.

Chet was just regaining consciousness.

10 "Need an ambulance?" one of the troopers asked.

"N-no, I'm okay," Chet said woozily. "But I sure feel sore all over!"