The Secret of Wildcat Swamp Read Online Free PDF Page A

on.
    Frank’s head came up with a start, and Joe and Cap snapped to attention immediately.
    â€œDid you say someone got away?” Joe demanded.
    â€œTwo fellas, just stuck in there yestiddy for stealin’ outta someone’s car, busted clear out last night. Got clean away!”
    The three travelers looked at one another gravely. Turk and Flint—if it had been they—were on the loose again !
    After some deliberation, the trio decided to leave as soon as possible for Wildcat Swamp.
    â€œWhile we’re waiting for breakfast, I’ll send a message to Dad,” Frank said. “He ought to be kept informed of what’s going on. Suppose you two buy camp provisions while I contact him.”
    â€œOkay,” Joe and Cap replied.
    Frank hooked up the powerful little radio set. Switching to the secret frequency used by the Hardys, he called his home.
    Fenton Hardy was disturbed when he heard of the desperadoes’ escape. He agreed that there was nothing for the boys to do but to proceed to the swamp as planned.
    As soon as Joe and Cap returned to the hotel with their purchases, they all sat down to breakfast. Then the three went out to buy the digging implements they would need. At the general store the obliging clerk said:
    â€œSince you’re heading into dangerous country, I’d advise you to take along pistols. Only last week a trapper shot an ugly wildcat out there.”
    â€œThanks for the tip,” Joe answered. “Do we need permits?”
    â€œNot for pistols carried in plain sight.”
    â€œThen we’ll buy three.”
    At the livery stable to which the clerk directed them, they were able to hire three sturdy saddle horses and a strong pack mule.
    By midmorning they had packed their camping gear onto the mule and were ready to start off. Cap and Joe took the lead, with Frank bringing up the rear holding the animal’s rope.
    â€œWildcats, here we come!” Joe cheered as they cantered from the main street of Red Butte and headed for the desolate-looking country southwest of the town.
    â€œAccording to Uncle Alex’s map, it’s a good twenty-five miles to the swamp,” Cap called to the boys. “And this is pretty rugged country!”
    The trail followed a swift little stream that wound back and forth through the uneven, rocky ground. The sun became scorching hot.
    â€œWe won’t reach the first landmark until some time tomorrow morning,” Cap commented when they stopped for lunch. “That will be a big tree near the ridge of a small mountain.”
    â€œAny kind of a decent-sized tree would look good to me,” Joe said, perspiration soaking his shirt.
    â€œYou sure get tired of looking at this brush, and sand, and rocks,” Frank agreed.
    By late afternoon the extremely slow, steady plodding had brought them to a more fertile area, with scattered trees and lush grass. The long trek had taken its toll of riders and horses. All were tired, irritable, and jumpy.
    â€œListen to those coyotes howl,” Joe muttered. “They’re the spooks of the prairie, all right.”
    â€œWe’d better not go more than a couple of miles farther before we bed down for the night,” Cap advised. “Once the sun sets here, it gets dark fast.” A short while later he called a halt.
    Cap busied himself getting the sleeping bags unpacked and feeding the animals. Frank and Joe soon had a simple supper ready. After eating, Frank led the horses to the stream which had been their guide all day, and let them drink all they wanted. Then, after tethering them, he stepped back into the little circle of light made by the rekindled campfire.
    â€œAll set for the night,” he announced. “Hope it doesn’t rain.”
    â€œNot much chance,” Cap predicted. “Look at those stars. You certainly don’t see them that bright back in the city, do you?”
    â€œAlmost bright enough to travel by,”