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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

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BOOK: The Viking Symbol Mystery
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“My word!” he exclaimed. “You have taken great risks in this case. If only those scoundrels can be brought to justice!”
“We'll see to that!” Joe declared tersely.
The patient arose, took the stone, and placed it carefully on the table. He scrutinized the odd markings, as the Hardys and Chet waited with bated breath for his verdict.
“Hmm.” Mr. Baker-Jones ran his fingers across the characters cut into the surface of the stone, then lifted it as if trying to determine the weight. Finally, very deliberately, the museum representative placed the tablet on the table and removed his glasses.
“Well?” said Joe, unable to suppress his curi osity any longer.
“Is
it real?”
“Unquestionably genuine,” the expert pronounced. “Authentic ninth-century runic tablet.”
“Wahool” Joe cheered.
“Terrific!” cried Chet.
“We've solved half the mystery, at least,” Frank put in elatedly.
Mr. Hardy smiled, obviously pleased at his sons' and Chet's discovery, then turned to Mr. Baker-Jones and asked him, “Can you translate the Viking symbols?”
“I believe so,” the runic expert replied. He put on his glasses and bent over the tablet. After some minutes of intent study, he straightened. “Roughly, the symbols say a ship is hidden in a cove near a river which meets a knife-shaped body of water, on the north shore of a great lake. Apparently the vessel, which contained treasure, was sunk!”
“That ship must be what the crooks were dig ging for, but without this translation they couldn't find the right place,” Joe said.
“If they had studied my book more thoroughly,” said Mr. Baker-Jones, “they might have found the answer.”
“Of course Kelly,
their
translator,” Joe said, “is in jail.”
Frank, meanwhile, had been pondering the message on the ancient Viking tablet. “A great lake,” he murmured. “Would that be Great Slave Lake?”
“The northwestern part of Great Slave Lake is shaped like a knife blade,” Joe said excitedly.
“And the cove must be near Yellowknife,” Frank added. “That's where a river runs into the lake.”
Suddenly the group in the room were startled by loud voices coming from the first floor. Crash!
The Hardys dashed into the hall and down the steps two at a time. They found Caribou and a man struggling on the floor. The huge trapper was flushed with anger.
“Bon tonnerre!”
he shouted as he tussled with his wiry opponent.
“Caribou!” Mr. Hardy exclaimed. “What happened?” Together, the boys broke the giant's grip on the other man, whom they pulled to his feet.
“Abner Dulac!” Joe exclaimed in astonished recognition.
The captive wore a dark suit, and on the floor lay a physician's black bag.
“That's Dulac, all right!” Caribou snorted in disgust. He stepped toward his adversary and kicked the black bag open. A pistol tumbled out. The trapper glowered at his old enemy.
“He sneak in here to steal the rune stone, I bet!”
“Good work, Caribou!” Joe said. “I'll call the police.”
When several officers arrived and handcuffed Dulac, he sneered at his captors.
“You think you have beaten us! But you haven't. Kelly has escaped!” he gloated. “We smuggled a small gun to him in his food. We'll get the Viking treasure first!”
CHAPTER XVIII
Whistler's Signal
“KELLY
has escaped!”
Frank repeated in astonishment as Dulac was led off. “Think that's true, Dad?”
Mr. Hardy frowned. “I'll call the Hay River police right away and find out.” He hurried to the reception office to use the telephone.
In a few minutes the detective rejoined the boys. “Dulac was right,” he said. “Kelly escaped from the Hay River jail two nights ago by overpowering a guard.”
“What if he deciphered the symbols before we found the stone?” Frank asked worriedly.
“Or, he could have copied them down,” Joe said dejectedly, “figured out the message, and met the rest of his gang.”
“That means they might be digging up the treasure right now!” Chet put in.
“Let's head for Yellowknife pronto,” Frank urged.
“First I'll contact Radley,” said Mr. Hardy.
The five exchanged hasty good-bys with Mr. Baker-Jones and taxied back to their hotel. Here Mr. Hardy set up his short-wave set and radioed to his assistant. Soon they heard Sam's voice over the transmitter.
“We spotted diggers along the lake shore. Before we could apprehend them, they fled in a float plane. We found the half-buried hull of a small Viking ship. The hold was empty, but we found a few gold coins and gems. Over and out.”
Frank cried excitedly, “Those crooks have found the rune stone treasure!”
“They must have used the stolen float plane we were looking for,” Joe said dejectedly. “I wonder where they went.”
“I'll bet they're in Wood Buffalo Park, but at another hideout.”
“And they'll stay there at least until the heat's off.”
“Then the gang'll try to get out of the country?” Chet asked.
“Right,” said Frank. “Dad, I think we should go to Fort Smith, get camping gear, and take off into the park after the gang.”
Mr. Hardy agreed. “We'll leave this afternoon.”
“Bon tonnerre!”
said Caribou. “Think of all that gold!”
The group took the next flight to Fort Smith. When they arrived late that afternoon, the detectives went straight to the Hudson's Bay Company store. After buying food, picking up their gear, and renting rifles, they went to the park administration office.
Curly Pike was there and greeted them as they entered the office. “Hi, fellows!” the pilot called out. “What are you doing back here? Still on a mystery?”
The Hardys introduced their father, then ex plained the proposed search. “We want to leave for Wood Buffalo Park as soon as possible,” said Frank. “Could you fly us in your copter?”
“I sure can,” Curly answered. “I'm pretty eager to have you capture those thieves myself. Can you leave in an hour?”
Mr. Hardy smiled. “I think we can, Curly. We'll meet you back here.”
“I'll be ready,” Curly replied.
Mr. Hardy, Caribou, and the boys went to a small restaurant where they had supper. When they returned to the park office, the large helicopter was being warmed up on the field next to the administration building. Curly was at the controls and waved to his five passengers.
They climbed aboard, and seconds after the door was shut, the helicopter lifted off. Soon they were cruising over Wood Buffalo Park, and Frank, who was seated up front with Curly, directed him toward the cave where they had found the stone.
“We may as well check the spot to be sure no one is hiding there.”
“I had a good look around here yesterday,” Curly shouted over the roar of the rotors. “I didn't see a soul.”
“We'll go farther inland to search then,” Frank said.
Presently the Hardys, after conferring with Chet and Caribou, signaled for Curly to set down. When the craft landed, the boys unloaded their gear and studied maps to determine their exact location.
“Good luck,” called Curly, as he boarded the helicopter. “Radio me when you want to be picked up.”
“Okay,” said Joe. The searchers strapped on their rucksacks and set off. Spreading out to cover the widest territory possible, they struggled and stumbled their way through thick brush and rocky, uneven terrain.
Just as it was growing dark, the group trudged across a barren hill. Reaching the top, they stood looking into a valley below. Feeding on the tall grasses was a huge herd of buffalo.
“Wow!” said Chet, when he saw the size of the hulking beasts. “They're tremendous!”
The great black animals, the boys recalled, were the true wood buffalo, not the prairie bison of the American West. On the flanks of the herd stood bulls, flicking their tails and twitching their skin to shake off the black flies.
“I read that this buffalo's skin is two inches thick,” Joe said, joining his brother, “and their hair eight inches long.”
“They're big,” said Chet, “but they don't look very bright.”
He walked ahead of his companions as they trudged downhill and skirted the edge of the herd. Chet drew near for a better look at the beasts.
“Not so close!” Caribou warned him.
Just then one of the bulls snorted and pawed the ground near the chubby boy. Suddenly the huge animal wheeled and lunged toward him.
“Yeow!” yelled Chet and stumbled back ward.
Fortunately, the bull evidently was only trying to scare off the strange human intruder. When Chet retreated, the beast rejoined his herd, keeping a wary eye on the hikers as they passed by.
“Not bright, eh?” Joe said, grinning, when Chet rejoined them.
“I take it back,” Chet said, laughing.
It was dark when the group stopped to camp. The Hardys and Caribou were busy unpacking necessary gear. Suddenly Joe looked around. “Where's Chet?” he asked. The chunky boy was not in sight.
“I hope he not chase more buffalo,” Caribou said, chuckling.
Just then there was a rustling in the brush and Chet stepped out. “I was just doing some exploring,” he explained. “You know, it's amazing how well you can hear the robins singing in this still air.”
“Wait a minute!” Frank said eagerly. “Did you say you heard robins?”
“Sure,” Chet said, “as clear as a bell!”
“You couldn't have,” Frank contradicted him. “There aren't any songbirds up here now. It's one of the strange things about this part of the Northwest Territories.”
“That is right,” Caribou agreed, puzzled. “No songbirds here in the summer.”
Joe snapped his fingers. “Someone must be using the birdcall as a signal.”
“Bon tonnerre!”
Caribou muttered. “I think we get near our enemy.”
“Do you think they've spotted us?” Joe asked his father.
“I'm not sure, son. But even if they have, I don't believe the gang will stop to put up a fight. They'd take the Viking treasure and run!”
“Well, let's follow
them,”
Frank urged. “If they're close by, we'd better not spend extra time camping.”
By now a full moon had risen and illuminated the trail chosen by the searchers. They started out in the direction of the area where Chet had heard the “robins.” Progress was slow through the tangled underbrush. Thorny branches tore at their clothes.
Suddenly all five stopped and listened. The sound of men's voices came from directly ahead.
“We've located them!” Joe whispered tensely.
CHAPTER XIX
Stampede!
“We've found the thieves!” Chet repeated excitedly as the sound of voices continued.
Mr. Hardy held a finger to his lips, signaled for the others to follow, and retreated a hundred feet. The boys and Caribou gathered tensely around him.
“We must make plans,” he said, as they formed a huddle. “We have the element of surprise on our side.”
Shielding his flashlight beam, the detective pointed it downward and drew a large circle in the dirt.
“Caribou,” said Mr. Hardy, “you're the most experienced woodsman in our group. You make your way around to the far side of the spot where the men are.” He indicated Caribou's position on the circle.
“Oui,”
said the French-Canadian. “I will be quiet like a mouse.”
“Frank,” the detective continued, “make your way to the right side, and Joe, you take the left. Chet and I will close in on the men from this direction.”
Everyone slipped off his rucksack. Then Frank said, “We should be all set and ready to charge in twelve minutes.”
“Better synchronize our watches,” said Joe. They took his advice, as he counted off the sec onds.
Caribou turned on his heels and disappeared into the forest, silently and swiftly. Just as quickly the others took off, heading for their positions. Chet and the Hardys carried rifles, and Caribou had his woodsman's knife as well.
Frank and Joe reached their respective places and ticked off the minutes. From where they crouched the boys could barely hear the voices. Tensely the Hardys waited, barely breathing.
At the appointed time, the brothers rushed forward toward the sound. But suddenly each stopped dead in his tracks.
The voices belonged to Tony and Biff!
Tony was saying, “Frank, Joe, and Chet are coming to Edmonton tomorrow. Sam talked to Mr. Hardy, and he said the fellows are going to search for the rune stone.”
The Hardys were completely mystified. What were Tony and Biff doing here? And why was Tony repeating what had already happened?
Frank and Joe ran on until they came to a small clearing under a tree. At the same moment the others, equally mystified, converged on the spot. There was no sign of the two boys.
“Look!” Joe cried, shining his flashlight on a metal box.
“A tape recorder!” Frank exclaimed. “We heard Biff and Tony on tape!”
“A clever trick,” Mr. Hardy remarked wryly, as they examined the machine.
There were two packages of small batteries wired in series for power. A spring arrangement automatically turned off the tape, rewound it, and started the player again.
“Now the crooks have really slowed us down!” Chet said disgustedly.
“Biff and Tony's room must have been bugged by some of the gang just after the fellows met Sam in Yellowknife,” Joe guessed, switching off the recorder.
BOOK: The Viking Symbol Mystery
11.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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