The Hooded Hawk Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

and Chet listened to the story of the kidnapped Indian and the Hardys’ suspicion that he had been held here.
    â€œBut where have they taken him?” Chet asked.
    â€œWherever Tava’s been taken,” said Frank, “you can be sure the place won’t be so easy to find as this one was. His captors will see to that and will make it dangerous for anyone trying to find him.”
    â€œThen what’s next?” Chet asked.
    â€œI guess we’d better follow up the pigeon angle for further clues,” Frank replied as all of them sat down to rest before starting back through the forest. “I haven’t seen any signs of cotes around here. I thought for a while that maybe pigeons were kept here, both as food for the goshawk and as carriers for the smugglers. But I guess that the pet goshawk was given other food.”
    Chet sighed, “Let’s go home. I’m hungry.” He went into the kitchen, helped himself to a box of crackers, and passed them around.
    Both Frank and Joe felt that the lodge and grounds should be guarded, in case Tava’s kidnappers returned. As soon as they reached Chet’s home they would phone Mr. Hardy’s operative, Sam Radley, to take on this job.
    Radley and the boys worked closely together. He admired Frank and Joe’s sleuthing abilities, and encouraged them in every way he could.
    Feeling rested, Ahmed and the boys started back through the forest. Several hundred paces later Frank spied a movement in the bushes and halted his companions.
    â€œWho’s there?” Frank called out.
    No response. When he repeated his call, a boy about twelve years old stepped into the open.
    â€œIt’s me, Gene Moran,” the youngster said.
    Relieved, the three sleuths pushed forward to meet the boy, who lived near the Hardys. Joe asked what he was doing in the woods.
    â€œLooking for tree toads for my Boy Scout merit badge,” Gene replied.
    Chet grinned. “Find any?”
    â€œSure, a whole pocketful,” the boy said, laughing.
    â€œBy the way,” Frank put in, “did you see anyone else in these woods today besides us?”
    â€œYes, a bunch of dark-skinned people. They looked sort of like your friend.” Gene bobbed his head at Ahmed.
    â€œWhere?”
    Gene pointed in a southwesterly direction. “They were in a big hurry. Say, one fellow—about the same age as you, Frank—had a pet bird on his right wrist. And it had a funny cap pulled over its head.”
    â€œWere any of the people wearing foreign clothing?” Joe queried.
    â€œNo. They all had on regular American suits.”
    â€œDid they have a leader?”
    Gene thought for a moment. “Guess you’d call the lightest one the leader. He was tall and cruel-looking. Wore a cap like a ship’s captain and a dark-blue coat. Bet he is a captain, because I heard one of the other men ask him, ‘Cap, got the stones?’ ”
    Stones! Frank’s and Joe’s eyes flashed. Elated, they thanked Gene for his information. The boy looked at them curiously. “You working on a case?”
    â€œThat’s right.” Joe winked at Frank. “We’re after a couple of toads ourselves. Big ones.”
    Gene grinned. “Hope you catch ’em.”
    â€œAnd good luck on your merit badge,” said Frank.
    Once more the Hardys, Chet, and Ahmed headed for the Morton farm.
    â€œOne thing I don’t understand,” said Chet. “Why didn’t Tava escape yesterday when he was evidently within sight of us?” Chet asked.
    Joe suggested that perhaps the youth was not being held against his will.
    â€œIt could be,” said Frank, “that he has been given some phony story, believes it, and isn’t even trying to get away!”
    When they arrived at Chet’s house, Frank telephoned Sam Radley. He related all the happenings in the woods and described the location of the hunting lodge. Mr. Hardy’s