Hunting for Hidden Gold by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

with the gang, he may be keeping an eye on the gang’s doings. Also, he could be using the copter to transport supplies to the crooks.”
    â€œAnd don’t forget that shotgun booby trap at the airport,” Frank added. “Dodge sent us to the copter alone—which could mean he wanted to make sure he wasn’t in range when the gun went off.”
    Joe frowned. “But would a company president plot with a crook to rob his own truck?”
    â€œWhy not? The money was covered by insurance. And he might have hired Dad to allay suspicion.”
    As the boys neared the old abandoned hotel, they watched the display of northern lights sweeping across the sky.
    â€œYou know, Frank,” Joe said slowly, “there’s one big thing in Dodge’s favor.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œDad likes him.”
    â€œYou’re right,” Frank agreed. “From the way Dad spoke last night, he really admires Dodge—and Dad’s a good judge of character. He never would have talked about Dodge as he did if he suspected him.”
    Making their way through the side yard to the back of the hotel, the Hardys switched on their flashlights and began searching for the gun.
    Presently Joe exclaimed, “Here it is!” The revolver lay in a clump of undergrowth. Joe picked it up carefully by the trigger guard.
    â€œIt’s a slip gun, all right,” Frank commented. “No trigger, and the barrel’s been cut short.”
    â€œThat means Slip Gun is the man we followed from the cemetery! He’s Big Al’s spy.”
    â€œYes,” Frank agreed. “You know, Joe—Dodge might have been the person we heard following us.”
    â€œMaybe, but there’s no way to be sure,” Joe pointed out. “Slip Gun is a husky fellow, and Dodge and Burke are both big men. Either one would answer the description.”
    â€œTrue enough,” Frank conceded. “Besides, if Dodge did follow us, why didn’t he admit it?”
    When the Hardys got back to the cabin, both their father and Hank were sleeping soundly. Frank and Joe checked the slip gun for fingerprints, but found none clear enough to photograph. Evidently the hooded man’s gloved hand had smudged any that might have existed before the night’s events.
    The brothers undressed quickly and crawled into their bunks. As Joe blew out the oil lamp, Frank yawned and said sleepily, “Wonder what ‘Shadow of the Bear’ means?”
    â€œMe too. Something else to track down—” Joe’s voice trailed off and he was fast asleep.
    Neither boy needed an alarm clock. They got up at dawn without disturbing the men and had a quick breakfast. Then they went outside, saddled up their horses, and mounted.
    â€œDo you have Hank’s sketch of the mines?” Joe asked as they started up the hill.
    â€œRight here.” Frank patted his pocket. “I wish we still had Mike Onslow’s map.”
    â€œPoor Mike!” Joe reined in his skittish horse. “I wish we could find at least some of his missing gold.”
    â€œSo do I.” Frank added with a chuckle, “I’ll bet Aunt Gertrude is fussing over him right now like a mother hen.”
    When the boys reached the top of the hill, they could see the sunlight starting to work its way over Windy Peak. “Lucky Slip Gun didn’t stop us,” said Joe as they halted to study the map.
    Brady’s Mine, they found, was located to the north, not far away. Half an hour’s ride brought them to a point somewhere below the mine site. Here the boys dismounted and led their horses carefully up the slope.
    Frank and Joe scouted the area, but could see nobody, nor any tracks in the snow.
    â€œLet’s take a look inside,” Joe suggested.
    The boys tied their horses to a clump of bushes a hundred yards from the mouth of the mine. After making sure their flashlights were working, they cautiously