The Ghost at Skeleton Rock by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

visitor to the airfield must have been the one who resembled Joe—the contact man for the theft ring!
    Hildreth was puzzled. “What goes on here?” he asked. “You fellows mixed up in a mystery?”
    â€œYes,” said Frank. “Joe and I didn’t arrive until a few minutes ago.” He explained that the police were looking for a suspect who resembled Joe. He might even be made up to look like him.
    â€œWell, I’ll be doggoned!” Hildreth exclaimed. “That fellow sure is your double! He asked if Wayne had filed the take-off time for your flight. I said, ‘No, not yet, but he told me last night you’d be leaving around six.’ Then he walked off toward the hangar.”
    Joe’s eyes widened as a frightening thought struck him. “I have a hunch we’d better check our plane and check it good!”
    The boys hurried back to the hangar, where they found Jack Wayne fully recovered. He told them he had been about to step into the Hardy plane when someone had sneaked up behind him and put a rag with chloroform under his nose.
    â€œThat’s the last I remember. But why would anyone want to knock me out?”
    â€œSo he could sabotage our plane before take-off!” Frank replied grimly, and related Hildreth’s story.
    â€œGood night!” exclaimed Jack. “If that’s the deal, we’d better go over the ship with a fine-toothed comb, or we may wind up in the drink!”
    Worried, the group towed the big blue-and-white craft out onto the hangar apron. Under Jack’s supervision, they began a thorough check.
    Engine, landing gear, control cables, elevators, ailerons, trim tabs—everything seemed to be in order. Even the radio and flight instruments showed no signs of tampering.
    Frank relaxed a bit. “I guess my hunch was wrong. Anyhow, I’m glad we made sure.”
    â€œBut we still don’t know why Jack was attacked,” Joe pointed out.
    While the pilot went off to file his flight plan, the others refreshed themselves with some hot cocoa at the airport lunch counter. Later, as Jack warmed up the engine for take-off, the boys lugged their baggage out to the ship.
    Frank squatted just inside the cargo compartment in the rear of the plane and checked off each item as the others passed them in to him.
    â€œTwo bags for Joe and me,” he sang out. “Three bags for Chet. One suitcase for Tony, and a bag and two suitcases for Jack already stowed aboard!”
    Jack turned around. “Hey, did you say three for me? I brought only two.”
    â€œI’ll bet Chet slipped in an extra one full of chow!” Tony joked.
    â€œEither that, or he’s trying to sneak his dummy aboard as a stowaway.” Joe chuckled.
    Suddenly Frank turned pale. “Say, what if that fellow who chloroformed Jack planted the extra bag! It could mean—”
    The pilot had already jumped up from his seat and hurried aft. “These are my two suitcases,” he said, pointing them out.
    Frank grabbed the extra bag from the cargo space and held it to his ear.
    â€œIt’s ticking!” he cried. “A time bomb!”
    There was an instant of near panic as Jack and the boys stood frozen with fear. Should they leap from the plane and leave it to blow up when the bomb went off? Or should they take a chance and try to carry the bag to a safe distance?
    Frank glanced at his watch. It was 6:33. “The person who planted the bomb probably figured we wouldn’t be airborne just yet, so the bomb must be set to explode a few minutes from now. Out of my way, boys!” he cried.
    Before anyone could stop him, Frank jumped from the plane, bag in hand, and sprinted down the runway. Near the edge of the field, he paused and hurled the bag toward a vacant, brush-covered lot beyond.

    He was halfway back to the plane when the whole airport rocked under a sudden explosion. Frank was hurled to the ground by the tremendous blast.