156 "We ought to get our prisoner back safely to Juneau as soon as possible," the woodsman suggested.

Frank and Joe agreed. "Suppose you and Ted take him along," Frank said.

"And leave you here?"

"The three of us will be safe enough," he a.s.sured the Sewells.

Joe declared that they should at least stop at the enemy's camp long enough to see whether Robbie had returned to the helicopter.

"All right," Mr. Sewell acceded. "Ted and I will go on and report everything that has happened, but be careful, won't you?"

It was still daylight by the time the adventurers re-embarked and reached the point on the west bank of the river near the trail which led to the camp at Devil's Paw. Here the Hardys made another attempt to get in touch with Juneau by radio. This time the static was even louder.

"Boy! This is a real mystery!" Joe removed his headphones. "We're getting interference from something mighty powerful."

The Sewells stopped along the riverbank to say good-by, then paddled out of sight along the foaming river. After they had gone, Frank, Joe, and Fleetfoot turned their attention to the job of caching the two remaining canoes and their supplies.

Joe suggested that they also check on the fuel cans which they had hidden earlier. They found 157 them still in place and Fleetfoot reported no footprints were in evidence nearby.

Once again the three companions followed the beaten trail up the mountainside to the camp. Dodging behind the trees and peering from beneath the bushes, the boys silently approached the area. n.o.body was in sight.

Suddenly Joe clutched his brother's arm. "Look over there," he said.

"What do you know about that? Robbie's sweater!"

The three boys stepped forward to examine it. It was a blue garment with red trim. The way it lay on the ground, however, made Frank suspect that it had not been casually dropped.

"Look!" he said, and indicated the left arm of the sweater. "See how the sleeve is pointing, Joe."

"That was done on purpose!"

"Of course. Robbie put this here to give us directions."

Fleetfoot spoke up approvingly. "Robbie like good Indian. He give sign."

The sweater arm pointed southwest over an area of rock and shale. The ground was too hard to reveal any footprints.

Frank and Joe left the sweater untouched as a safety precaution, in case they lost their way and wanted to find the trail again. Then they set off with Fleetfoot. Gradually the ground sloped away to a heavily wooded valley. Just before the edge of 158 the timber, Fleetfoot's keen eyes noted several sets of footprints heading in their general direction.

"We go right way," he said.

With extreme caution, the three boys pushed their way among the pines and underbrush. The forest was wrapped in a brooding silence. The setting sun shone blood red over the hills.

The Hardys and their Indian friend continued on through the towering trees. Frank was the first to step out into a small clearing. Silently he beckoned to the others.

"What's the matter?" said Joe, whispering into his brother's ear.

"Over there, next to that leaning pine tree."

Joe cupped his hands over his eyes to keep out the sun's glare.

"By golly, Frank, that's a thunderbird!"

The figure stood out above the tall gra.s.s and when Fleetfoot saw it, he said, "It top of totem pole."

Advancing cautiously, the boys came upon a ten-foot post, with angry-looking faces of salmon, bears, and sea otters with bared fangs.

At the top of the totem, a thunderbird leered down at them with outspread wings. Though badly weather-beaten, the pole still showed traces of red, yellow, and blue paint.

Frank and Joe discussed their find in muted voices.

159 "Could the pole be just a landmark?" Joe wanted to know.

"I'm sure it's more than that," Frank reasoned, "because the footprints led directly to it.

This thunderbird totem must be of some special importance."

The Indian boy's hands were already moving over the carved images. He turned to grin at his two companions. "Sometime totem pole hide important message." Fleetfoot next felt around the indented mouth of the salmon.

"No message here," he said, disappointed.

Joe glanced up. "What about the thunderbird? Could that have a message in it?"

Fleetfoot shrugged. Whereupon Joe said, "Come on, Frank, give me a boost, I'll take a look for myself."

Frank cupped his hands together waist-high, and Joe placed his right foot in the hand stirrup.

"Up you go!" Frank gave Joe a strong boost.

Joe deftly put a foot on either of his brother's shoulders. He was now high enough to reach the thunderbird.

"Look in the beak," Fleetfoot said.

"False alarm," Joe reported. "The bird doesn't have a message and-Hey! Look out, Frankl Don't wiggle like that!"

His brother had moved slightly to slap at a mosquito, and in doing so had thrown Joe off balance. He pitched to one side, brushing against the right 160 wing of the thunderbird. It fell off. "Look out, below!" Joe cried out. He hit the ground with a thud. The wing just missed his head.

"You hurt?" Fleetfoot asked.

"I'm all right," Joe said, getting up and rubbing his thigh. "But look at the totem pole. I guess I've ruined it."

The three boys glanced up to the place where the wing had been ripped off the towering figure.

Fleetfoot looked surprised, "Th?.t meant to come off. Look! Hole in totem pole!"

"Jumping salmon!" Joe exclaimed. "Let's take a look."

This time Frank was hoisted to the shoulders of Joe and the Indian boy, who stood side by side. Tense with excitement, Frank planted his feet firmly on their shoulders, then on tiptoe, reached up into the opening.

"Hey, fellows!" he cried out. "There's something in here!"

CHAPTER XIX.

Enmeshed.

joe and Fleetfoot stared upward as Frank withdrew his hand from the opening in the totem pole.

"What did you find?" Joe called.

"A canvas sack. And is it heavyl"

When Frank had pulled the large sack free of the hole, he leaped nimbly to the ground with it. Then, quickly unloosening the drawstring, he dumped the bag's contents onto the ground.

"Look at that!" Joe cried out. "More treasure!"

"From grave houses!" Fleetfoot declared instantly. He picked up several of the ornaments and examined them curiously.

Frank spoke up. "Joe, this stuff must be priceless! I'll bet there's nothing like it, even in the Alaska Historical Museum!"

Joe reflected for a moment. "Do you suppose 161.

162 Robbie pointed his sweater this way to lead us to the thunderbird's cache?"

"I doubt it," Frank said. "Robbie was probably interested only in where he was going-or being taken."

"And we don't know where that is yet." Joe's voice held a determined ring.

"Treasure or no," Frank said, "Robbie's safety is more important."

"What'll we do with this stuff, Frank? Carry it with us?"

"No, it's too heavy."

Fleetfoot had a suggestion. "We bury this, too, like other stuff. But first we must put back thunderbird's wing."

Standing on Frank's shoulder, Joe quickly replaced the wing, covering the opening in the totem as it was before. Fleetfoot, meanwhile, had found a cleft between two rocks. The boys laid their new treasure in the depression, covering it with a layer of brush, then a rotted tree limb which lay nearby.

With the artifacts concealed, the three companv ions trekked on, following the same direction as before. Ten minutes later Frank, in the lead, came upon a sapling with the lower branch freshly broken. "Fleetfoot! Joe! Look here! A marker!"

"You right," the Indian said, admiring his friend's knowledge of woodcraft.

163 "This means a change of direction, doesn't it?" Joe asked.

"Exactly," Frank replied. "Robbie was on his toes, all right."

Judging from the sticky sap which still oozed from the wound in the branch, the Hardy boys deduced that it had been broken only a short time before.

"We'd better be quieter than ever," Frank warned.

The boys alternated in taking the lead as they pushed through the dense underbrush.

Intently they tried to avoid stepping on twigs and fallen branches so as not to betray their presence.

As they topped a low rise of ground, Fleetfoot motioned the Hardys to stop and listen.

The brothers put their ears to the ground.

"Someone's walking up ahead," Frank whispered.

"Yes. Many feet," the Indian said. "We must be careful."

Creeping forward on knees and elbows, Frank, Joe, and Fleetfoot inched to the top of the knoll. There, completely hidden by foliage, they looked down into a little ravine. Below them was a group of men going through mysterious motions!

"One, two, four-six of them," Joe counted to himself.

In their hands all of the men held long poles 164 which they were moving back and forth over the ground and bushes.

Frank leaned close to his brother. "Mine detectors!" he exclaimed in a whisper.

"No wonder our radio's been full of static!" Joe whispered back. "These birds must have been pretty close to us all the time."

Frank touched Fleetfoot on the shoulder and motioned for him to withdraw. The three boys ducked below the brow of the hill. In an undertone Frank quickly explained the situation to Fleetfoot.

"It's the moon rocket they're looking for all right," he said.

"And it's not dark yet," Joe remarked. "They must be getting desperate to find it."

The brothers quizzed the Indian boy on whether he had seen the men use these mine detectors the night he crossed the river to investigate the flickering lights.

"No use them then," Fleetfoot replied.

"But where's Robbie?" Joe whispered. "You don't suppose they've-"

"I don't think they'd harm him," Frank said. "Robbie is their ace in the hole-they might need him in case they have to escape by helicopter."

"We'd better take a closer look," Joe suggested.

"Follow me," Fleetfoot said.

Depending on their Indian friend's acute sense of direction, the boys hunched low and crept after 165 him in a circuitous route which led down to one end of the ravine. Then, darting from tree to tree in the deepening evening shadows, the three boys approached nearer to the six men.

Joe put his mouth close to his brother's ear. "I'll bet you they're foreigners."