The Hooded Hawk Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

he crawled forward.
    â€œThere’s a hunting lodge ahead,” he whispered. “And smoke is coming from the chimney.”
    Chet explained that Mr. Smith had built the lodge to entertain his friends during the hunting season, but that he never used it in the summer.
    For several minutes Ahmed and the boys observed the lodge. Then Frank said:
    â€œIt looks deserted, though someone must have built a fire recently. Let’s see what we can find out. But be careful!”
    Did the lodge conceal dangerous smugglers—or the kidnappers? the Hardys wondered.

CHAPTER VIII
    A Strange Lead
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    THE searchers warily circled the hunting lodge, but they came upon no one, nor was there any sign of activity inside. Still cautious, however, Frank whispered:
    â€œKeep an eye on me, will you, while I get close enough to look through the windows?”
    Frank hurried forward, zigzagging so that he would be an elusive target. At last he reached a corner of the low, wide veranda which ran around three sides of the building. Crossing to a large window, he looked into a handsomely furnished living room with a log fire burning. The room was unoccupied.
    Frank moved stealthily from window to window. There were several rooms in the lodge, all well furnished. The bedrooms and kitchen showed evidence of a hasty exit of several people. Dirty dishes were piled high in the sink, and bureau drawers were open.
    Frank signaled to the others and they came forward. Moments later all were inside the lodge, looking for clues to the vanished occupants.
    Joe, who was more interested in where the occupants had gone, went through the kitchen and out to the back yard. At the edge of the woods he discovered a spring which flowed into a small creek. In the muddy earth around it were a number of footprints.
    â€œHey, come here!” he called. Ahmed, Frank, and Chet joined him. “Let’s see where these tracks go.”
    â€œAnd look!” cried Chet, pointing in turn to several bright-red splotches on the ground.
    â€œLooks like blood!” Joe exclaimed.
    â€œDried blood would be dark,” Frank said. “That is brilliant red.”
    â€œThis is a real clue,” said Ahmed. “A user of betel nuts spits a bright-red fluid.”
    Their hopes raised by these latest discoveries, the searchers dashed into the woods, following the footprints Joe had discovered. When that trail ended, the boys spotted crushed leaves and broken twigs that marked the recent flight of several people. Red splotches made by the betel-nut user were here and there.
    The foursome followed the trail to the edge of a rock-filled brook. There it was lost. Frank and Joe knelt at various points along the opposite bank, looking for some sign to indicate where the fleeing group had come out. But they found nothing and concluded that the fugitives had gone far downstream.
    Convinced that there was no way of picking up the trail beyond the stream, Frank suggested that they all return to the lodge and try to find some clues to the occupants’ identities.
    In the rambling log structure each of the quartet took one of the bedrooms. There were visible fingerprints everywhere but not one clear set.
    Suddenly Ahmed called out, “In here, boys! Look what I’ve found.”
    The others ran to a bedroom which was furnished more luxuriously than the others. Ahmed was holding a dark-brown object the size of a robin’s egg. It looked like a salt shaker, was delicately carved, and had a number of colored bands for decoration. The initials T.N. were engraved on the bottom.
    â€œWhat is it?” Frank asked, puzzled.
    â€œA sandalwood scent box,” Ahmed replied slowly.
    â€œAnd the initials could stand for Tava Nayyar!” Frank cried.
    â€œThis must have been his ‘prison’!” Joe said.
    Frank nodded, then said, “I guess now we’d better tell the others about Tava.”
    Completely astounded, Ahmed