Hunting for Hidden Gold (14 page)

“Maybe,” Joe suggested, “it depended on the horses. I'll bet he waited until just before dawn and then stole them!”

Frank was angry. “Of course. His horse would know him, and since the three animals have been together and gotten to be friends, none of them would whinny an alarm. I should have realized that.”

The boys dashed for the fork. Their guess had been right! The horses were gone! And taken up the steeper branch!

“Al
did
trick us!” Frank chided himself.

“Now he's really got us in a spot,” murmured his brother. “Do we head for home or trail him?”

“Trail him,” Frank decided promptly. ‘We'll have to walk, of course.”

“Can we make it up there?” Joe sounded worried.

“I don't know, but we'll have to try.”

The brothers huddled in the shelter of a rock to discuss the situation. What lay ahead? They realized it might be a long and treacherous climb —perhaps another night without hot food and proper shelter. They noticed it was growing colder and that was a bad sign too. It was not only going to be uncomfortable for the Hardy boys, but they could easily freeze to death!

“Come on, Joe!” Frank said resolutely as he started up the steep trail. “We're not going to let Big Al get away!”

Joe joined his brother and together they started the climb along this part of Ambush Trail. The turns were abrupt and the wind whistled sharply. Once Joe had to snatch Frank back when the wind nearly blew him over the edge.

For hours the boys toiled along the trail, following the string of horseshoe prints. During the afternoon, the marks made an abrupt turn that opened onto a plateau. It was almost completely surrounded by jagged outcroppings of rocks. The boys ducked down out of the strong wind which had swept the area almost clean of snow.

Suddenly their eyes bulged as they spotted a small cabin that lay nestled in the center of the little plateau! From its chimney came a thin wisp of smoke.

“Somebody's here!” said Joe excitedly, and instinctively began to run.

“Wait!” Frank warned. “It might be Big Al. We'd better approach cautiously. Say, Joe—look !”

On a ridge beyond the cabin was a single weather-beaten pine tree.

“The lone pine!” Joe exclaimed.

“Yes,” said Frank, “and if it is, that building might be Mike Onslow's cabin—now occupied by Big Al!”

CHAPTER XVII

As THE boys paused uncertainly, pondering their next move, the cabin door opened. A tall, white-haired man strode out and waved to them.

“Hi there!” he called. “Looking for shelter?”

The boys gasped as they recognized him.

“It's Mr. Dodge!” Joe exclaimed.

“Can we trust him?” Frank muttered. “If he is in cahoots with the gang, Big Al may be in there, waiting to jump us.”

Joe shot his brother a quick glance. “If we run for it, they may come after us shooting!”

“Guess we'll have to play this by ear,” Frank said in a low voice. “Better pretend we don't suspect anything—but be ready to act fast if we spot a trap.”

The Hardys walked toward the cabin.

“What are you doing up here, Mr. Dodge?” Joe asked when they drew closer.

A bewildered look came over the man's face. “Dodge?” he repeated. “My name is Dawson—Bart Dawson. I worked a claim up here with Mike Onslow and the Coulson brothers.”

The boys stopped short in astonishment.

“That's right,” Dodge went on. His manner seemed strange. “I—I'd better explain,” he added. “Come on inside and I'll tell you the whole story. Maybe you boys can help me.”

Frank and Joe looked at each other. Both had a hunch as to what Dodge was about to tell them.

“Okay, let's go,” Frank murmured to Joe.

The brothers entered and Dodge closed the door. The cabin had a “lived-in” appearance. There were cans of food and other supplies on the shelves, and a pile of firewood beside the potbelly stove.

“Sit down, boys.”

Frank and Joe found chairs, but Dodge remained standing. He sighed and ran his fingers through his thick shock of white hair, as if he scarcely knew how to begin. He had a livid, swollen bruise on his right temple.

“Can you lads imagine what it's like to wake up suddenly and not know where you are or how you got there?” the big man said at last. “To have a complete blank in your memory?”

“A blank twenty-five years long?” Joe put in.

Dodge looked startled. “I don't know how you guessed it, son, but you must be just about right. Last time I recall, I was a young man with red hair and a beard. Also I was very skinny. But now when I see myself”—he gestured toward a small cracked mirror—“my hair's white, I'm years older, and I'm much heavier.”

“Do you recognize us?” Frank queried.

The man shook his head. “No—and I've been wondering why you called me Dodge.”

“Because you've been going under the name of Bob Dodge,” Frank replied.

“Same initials—B.D.—but a different identity,” Joe added.

After introducing himself and his brother, Frank went on, “You spoke about waking up suddenly. Where?”

“In some woods near a cabin,” the man answered. “Felt as if I'd hit my head—or been hit —and there was a big swelling on my temple. Do you fellows know what happened?”

“You were conked with a flashlight,” Joe told him.

Frank leaned forward and asked, “Can't you remember anything about a fight inside a cabin?”

Bart Dawson frowned in deep thought. Finally he shook his head. “No. I tried to figure how I'd got to the woods, but nothing came back to me.”

“What did you do next?” Frank said.

“Well, I staggered out of the woods. It was dark, but I was close to someone's cabin. I knocked on the door, but—no answer.”

“Is that any reason to steal two horses?” Joe asked accusingly.

Dawson flushed. “You seem to know all my actions. I guess it was pretty highhanded, helping myself like that. But believe me, I intended to bring them back.”

“Just why did you take them?” Frank asked. “If you were confused, you could have gone into town for help.”

“I guess so,” Dawson admitted. “But the main street was dark and no one seemed to be stirring. Besides, I—well, I'd have felt pretty foolish waking people up and confessing I was mixed up.

“All I knew,” the man went on, “was that my name was Bart Dawson and I had to find my partners fast. It seemed terribly urgent for me to get back up here to our cabin on Windy Peak. There were two horses in the stable, so I helped myself to 'em and hit the trail. I took the pack horse,” he added, “because it was carrying blankets and a few supplies which I figured I might need in case I got lost and had to camp in the open.”

“When did you arrive here?” Frank asked.

“Yesterday afternoon. The place was empty, but there was some food.”

Frank and Joe concluded this was the gang's hideout.

“When I saw myself in the mirror,” Dawson went on, “I realized how many years must have gone by.” His voice broke. He slumped down on a bunk and put his head in his hands. “If you boys can fill me in at all,” he said, “I'd sure appreciate it.”

Frank and Joe explained to Dawson that under the name Dodge, he had been operating a successful armored-car business in Helena for ten years. Where he had been before that, they did not know. The boys also told him how he had engaged their father, Fenton Hardy, to run down a gang of robbers and how his sons had been brought into the case. Frank ended by telling Dawson about his fight with Burke at Hank Shale's cabin, and how a trap had been baited for Burke later, which resulted in the capture of Slim and Jake.

The white-haired man on the bunk shook his head hopelessly. “Thanks for telling me this, boys. But I still can't remember a thing about my life as Bob Dodge.”

“What's the last thing you do remember?” Joe pressed him.

Slowly Dawson began to relate how he and his partners had been besieged in this very cabin by Black Pepper's gang.

“We heard about that from Mike Onslow,” Frank put in. “He's a trapper now, back East. The two Coulson brothers are dead.”

Dawson swallowed hard. “I'm sorry to hear that.” After a moment he continued, “Anyhow, I remember taking off in the plane and heading north. But after three or four minutes the engine failed—and the ship crashed.”

“You couldn't have gone far in three or four minutes,” Joe said thoughtfully.

“No, that's right,” Dawson agreed, frowning. “I think I came down in the big valley beyond Lone Tree Ridge.”

“Then what?” Frank asked.

Dawson got up from the bunk and paced back and forth. “The plane hit hard and cartwheeled over into a sort of little gully somewhere along the valley floor. I must have blacked out for a while. When I came to, I had a terrible pain in my head.”

“You walked away from the wreck?” asked Joe.

“Yes. I was worried about Black Pepper getting the gold and the fact that Mike Onslow and the Coulson boys had entrusted it to me. Don't know how I managed, weak as I was, but somehow I got the sacks of gold out of the plane.”

“What did you intend to do?” Frank inquired.

Dawson rubbed his head painfully. “I've been concentrating on that ever since I arrived at the cabin,” he replied. “I recall knowing I couldn't lug the gold very far, and that I wanted to hide it in a safe place. Some landmark in the valley must have reminded me of an old abandoned mine called the Lone Tree diggings.”

“Is that where you took the gold?” Joe asked.

“It must have been,” Dawson said. “Anyhow, I remember finding a tunnel opening—and at the end of the tunnel a big excavation with bluish dirt walls. That's where I hid the gold.”

“Can you remember anything more?” Frank urged.

“Not much. Guess I tried to reach help. But it was bitter cold and snowing and I must have lost my way. Seems as if I wandered for a long time—plodding along blindly, falling, getting up, and staggering on. After that, everything's a blank.”

“The crash and the terrible hardships you went through must have brought on amnesia,” Joe said.

“And the blow Burke gave you that night triggered your mind into recalling the past,” Frank added.

“Incidentally,” Joe put in, “we're pretty sure that Black Pepper and the gang leader Big Al are the same man.”

Dawson frowned again. “You said I was running a business up in Helena,” he murmured. “In that case, why was I hanging around Lucky Lode? Your father was handling the detective work.”

“We wondered about that ourselves,” Frank admitted. “In fact, it made us suspect that you might be in with the gang. But maybe you were trying to dig up your past. I have a hunch this territory around Lucky Lode could have rung a bell in your mind.”

Suddenly all three were startled by the whinny of a horse. Frank and Joe leaped from their chairs and dashed outside, followed by Dawson. A man on horseback had just emerged from a clump of rocks and brush. He was headed toward the ridge.

“That's Big All” Joe cried.

A thought flashed into Frank's mind. Around the windward sides of the cabin lay an area of drift snow. Frank ran toward it. As he had feared, fresh tracks were visible leading toward and away from the lean-to shed at the back.

“He was here!” Frank called angrily. As the others joined him, he pointed to the prints in the snow. “I'll bet Big Al was hiding in the shed! He must have heard everything!”

The Hardys and Dawson hurried into the shed. Joe's saddle horse and Daisy, the pack mare—the animals Dawson had taken from Hank's cabin—were peacefully munching hay at the feedbox. Dawson was mystified, but Frank and Joe quickly reconstructed what must have happened.

“The gang's been using this cabin as their hideout,” Joe said. “Big Al must have reached here just before we did. When he saw the smoke, Big Al figured he'd better scout the situation.”

“Right,” Frank agreed. “He circled around the cabin toward that clump of brush, left the horses there, and sneaked up from the rear.”

“I'll bet he was in the lean-to when we arrived,” Joe added. “That means he heard everything through the wall—including what Mr. Dodge—Dawson—told us about the place where he hid the gold!”

“And now Big Al's on his way to find it!” Frank exclaimed.

The Hardys ran toward the clump of rocks and brush. Among them, well out of sight of the cabin, were the two horses Big Al had stolen from the boys. The outlaw had abandoned the extra animals when he galloped off.

“We'll go after him!” Frank decided.

The boys rode the horses back to the cabin. Dawson was eager to accompany them in pursuit of the gang leader, but the Hardys thought it more important that he return to Lucky Lode immediately and tell their father the turn of events.

“Dad and Hank and the sheriff will be worried sick about us by this time,” Frank said. “Besides, Mr. Dawson, that knock on the head may cause some aftereffects—you should see a doctor.”

After some persuasion, Dawson agreed, although the leaden sky foreboded bad weather.

Frank and Joe quickly collected some supplies from among the provisions in the cabin. In doing so, they discovered a powerful flashlight with a blue lens—evidently the signal light beamed from the cemetery—and a complete list of the gang members, with jotted notes on how to contact them, including Hopkins' group in Chicago.