The Secret Warning Read Online Free PDF Page B

the same person who hit me.”
    â€œThink we should try to hunt him down, Dad?” asked Frank, aiming his flashlight beam toward the brush-covered hillside left of the ravine.
    â€œNo. We wouldn’t stand a chance of finding him in this darkness. Worse yet, we’d make easy targets. Better switch your light off, son.”
    â€œFor that matter, we’d be sitting ducks around a campfire,” Joe reasoned.
    â€œTrue enough—which is why we’re not going to risk it,” said Mr. Hardy. “Our safest bet is to hole up in the lighthouse until morning. After that, we can decide our next move.”
    Under cover of the darkness, the group made their way slowly northeast toward the Whalebone Lighthouse, using the dim outline of the tower as a direction guide.
    Not until they reached the lighthouse did Joe realize that one of their party was missing.
    â€œHey! Where’s Chet?” he exclaimed, wheeling about.
    All three Hardys peered back anxiously the way they had come. The glow of the misty half-moon, low in the sky, revealed no sign of Chet.
    They exchanged glances of dismay. Had somebody bushwhacked Chet?
    â€œJoe and I’ll go back and find him,” Frank said.
    â€œNot without me,” their father replied.
    Stealthy as Indians the trio began to retrace their steps. Frank and Joe moved along cautiously at their father’s side—sick with fear that at any moment they might discover their pal’s motionless body.
    They had just reached a dense thicket of shrubbery near the ravine when a crackling noise caused them to halt abruptly.
    â€œHit the ground!” Mr. Hardy murmured. Silently the three sleuths flattened themselves in the brush.
    The noise came closer and the form of a man materialized out of the gloom. Without hesitation, Joe hurled himself through the darkness. There was a grunt of impact, and as he butted against solid flesh, Joe felt a heavy stick swish past his ear and whack him hard on the shoulder. He went down in a tangle of arms and legs just as Frank snapped on a flashlight.
    â€œHey, what’s the big Idea! You guys trying to ambush me or something?”
    â€œChet!” Frank gasped.
    Grinning ruefully, Joe got up while Frank helped Chet to his feet. Mr. Hardy was already retrieving several cans, a squashed loaf of bread, and other supplies which lay scattered over the ground.
    â€œWhere the dickens have you been, Chet?—as if we couldn’t guess,” Frank said.
    â€œAnd what’s the idea of trying to brain me with that stick?” Joe added.
    â€œYou think I’d be dopey enough to let that red-whiskered nut jump me, without being set for him?” Chet retorted.
    Mr. Hardy found it difficult to restrain a smile. “Good for you, Chet—but you did have us pretty badly worried, disappearing like that without a word of explanation.”
    Chet gulped. “I was afraid you wouldn’t let me if I asked to go back for grub. But—well, gosh, how could we get through the whole night without something to eat? I haven’t had a thing since lunch.”
    Joe chuckled. “You put away enough lamb chops at Captain Early’s to hold you for a week!”
    â€œOh, yeah? I only had four of those little bitty things.”
    â€œAll the same,” said Mr. Hardy, putting on a straight face, “it was a foolish risk going back to the campfire after what happened.”
    â€œOh, I didn’t go back there,” Chet explained. “I got this stuff off the Sleuth.”
    â€œOkay, I guess we can all use some food,” Frank said. “Now let’s make tracks for the lighthouse.”
    Although the Whalebone Light had been abandoned years before, the keeper’s living quarters still contained various furnishings—a battered table and chairs, a cast-iron stove, and a glass-chimneyed kerosene lamp. The storeroom below contained two rusty lanterns and several tins of oil and kerosene,