The Secret of Wildcat Swamp Read Online Free PDF

Frank remarked. “But say, what’s that light off there to the left?”
    All three stood up and studied the distant glow.
    â€œSomeone else is camping out here,” Frank decided. “Maybe Flint and Turk.”
    Joe, impulsive as ever, cried, “Let’s ride over!”
    It took only a few moments to bank their fire and saddle the horses.
    Keeping well apart and permitting their mounts to pick their way in the darkness, the trio moved toward the light.
    â€œIt’s a campfire, all right,” said Joe. “Look!”
    He was the first to spot the men crouched around the small blaze. “There must be half a dozen—and horses, too.”
    His mount had discovered the presence of other horses, and now let out a loud whinny. Immediately excitement broke out around the campfire. The men scrambled to their feet, ran to their horses, mounted them, and rode away quickly.
    The young detectives wanted to follow them, but Cap insisted that it would be unwise since they themselves were not familiar with the territory. They carefully inspected the camp for clues but found none other than the hoofprints.
    â€œDid you notice that one of the riders went off alone?” Joe asked. “I wonder why. The rest of them beat it in the opposite direction.”
    â€œHere are the marks of his horse,” Frank said, turning his flashlight on the ground. “Small hoofprints, too, as if it were only a pony and probably carrying a very light rider. I—”
    â€œAre you thinking what I’m thinking?” Joe interrupted. “Willie the Penman?”
    â€œCould be,” Frank replied. “And say, the prints lead in the direction of Wildcat Swamp!”
    â€œYou’re right!”
    â€œWe can’t be too careful the rest of our trip,” Cap warned as they made their way back to their own campsite. Nothing had been disturbed, and despite their curiosity about the mysterious riders the three soon dropped off to sleep.
    Joe was first to awake the next morning, and whipped up a solid breakfast before rousing the others. They paid a brief visit to the mystery camp before setting out for Wildcat Swamp, but gleaned no further information.
    â€œAfter we cover the next mile or so we ought to start looking for that big tree on the map,” Cap spoke up. Since early morning the three had come quite a distance from the camp on the plain.

    Six outlaws were crouched around the campfire
    They were in hill country now. The trail wound through rugged terrain with patches of woodland. They rode along the rim of one small canyon and through the dry bed of another. After considerable time had gone by, Cap said:
    â€œI certainly expected to see that big tree by this time. If Uncle Alex was right, we should be in sight of it, and there’s nothing here but this scrubby pine.”
    â€œThere’s no sign of a big tree but that old stump by the edge of that ravine,” Frank said, pointing.
    Joe jumped off his horse to examine it, while Frank and Cap checked the map.
    They were interrupted by a shout from Joe. “Come here! This isn’t an old stump. The tree has just recently been cut down!”
    When the others reached him, Joe was scraping away at the top of the stump.
    â€œLook! This has been covered with mud to make it look like an old cut.” He pointed.
    â€œBut where’s the tree?” Cap demanded.
    Frank looked over the edge of the ravine. “Down there,” he announced.
    â€œThe tree was felled within the last couple of days, maybe only yesterday,” Cap observed.
    â€œBy the men we saw at the campfire last night,” Frank conjectured.
    â€œHow about the map that was stolen from you back in Bayport—the unfinished copy? Had you put the tree on that?” Joe asked Cap.
    â€œYes. It was one of the details.”
    Frank stared at the teacher. “Then I’m sure, Cap, this was an attempt to remove a landmark we’ve been