*'Buster's and your uncle's plan," Joe said.

''Exactly," agreed Callie. ''And it has my uncle's mark all over it. A perfect compromise that makes everyone happy."

"Everyone except Bo Johnson," Frank pointed out.

"Right." Callie leaned forward between the two front seats. "Johnson obviously got hold of a copy of the plan somehow—"

"Freddy Zackarias," Joe said quickly. "He was fired for going through Owens's office, and today we saw him hanging around Johnson's mill."

"Johnson must have realized that if Owens won that contract, he would be forced out of business," Frank interjected. "He couldn't let that happen and he killed Owens."

"It's more likely that he paid Collins to do the actual dirty work for him, though. Where to now?" Joe asked.

"The Crosscut Guardian's offices," Frank said. "We need proof. I'd like to make prints

THE HARDY BOYS CA5EFILES

from the photos I took near the bulldozer yesterday and compare them with the prints from around Buster's truck."

"Step on it, Frank," CaUie said. "I smell a solution coming."

Frank glanced, amused, at his passenger. **Yes, boss," he said, and pressed down on the accelerator. "After the detective work you did, your wish is our command."

"There you are!" Ronnie Croft said when the Hardys and Callie trooped into her office through the back door fifteen minutes later. "1 was wondering what happened to you. The town's loaded with reporters, all demanding that I produce Stan Shaw for nonstop interviews."

"We saw a couple outside here," CalHe said. "That's why we came in the back way. Last night they were all outside Uncle Stan's house. Fortunately, we were able to give them the slip when we left his house this morning."

"Now—don't tell me—you want to use my darkroom," Ronnie said.

"Actually, yes," Frank replied. "We need to make some more prints in a hurry. We think we might be near a solution to the case."

"In that case, help yourselves," Ronnie said eagerly. "But on one condition."

Frank hesitated on his way to the darkroom. "What's that?"

"If you do solve this case, and Stan Shaw's no longer a suspect, and every reporter in this

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town wants to interview you and Callie and

Joe—''

''Yes?" Callie asked, grinning.

"You have to give me an exclusive interview."

"It's a deal," Frank said with a laugh.

In the dim amber light Joe and Callie peered at the row of photographs Frank had just printed. "Do you see anything yet?" Callie asked Frank.

"I'm not sure." Frank finished focusing the negative, turned the enlarger off, and slipped an eight-by-ten sheet of photographic paper over the enlarger's base. Then he turned on the en-larger light for a number of seconds, switched it off, and transferred the paper to the first vat of chemicals.

"This one seems promising," he said as he moved the photograph into the tray of fixer. "As soon as you hang it up we'll turn on the lights and take a closer look."

Five minutes later, Frank was standing on a stool in the now brightly lit room, peering at the photographs through a magnifying glass. Ronnie, Callie, and Joe were flanking him, trying to make out details in the prints.

"I still don't get it," Ronnie said impatiently. "What exactly are we looking for?"

"Something unusual in one of the bootprints," Joe explained. "If he finds a unique pattern in a print from near the bulldozer and can match it with a print from beside Owens's car, then that

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means the same person was in both places. And that means—"

''Once you match the bootprint to someone's boot, you have a good chance of being able to name the murderer." Ronnie tossed her hair back over her shoulder.

"I hope you find something," Callie said anxiously. 'There's only one more day till that arson report comes back. And since it seems pretty certain that that dynamite is from the same batch that was planted on Uncle Stan, he'll probably be arrested immediately."

"Joe, look at this," Frank said suddenly, pulling back from one of the photographs and hurriedly unclipping it. He handed the magnifying glass to Joe, then climbed down from the stool and strode over to the filing cabinet in the corner, where he'd left extra prints from the earlier printing session.

Frank grabbed one of the earlier photographs and brought it over beside the new one. "Compare them," he said to his brother, barely able to control the excitement in his voice.

Slowly and deliberately, Joe peered through the glass at first one photograph, then the other. He turned to his brother and said with a gleam in his eyes, "I think you did it, Frank.

"See," Joe explained to Callie and Ronnie, "there are three hobnails missing in a little triangle down on this side." He pointed to the boot-print in the newer photo. Then he moved the magnifying glass over to the older print. "And

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here it is again. Three missing nails in exactly the same place."

''Frank!" Callie looked up from the magnifying glass, her face alight with excitement. "You really did it! Now if we can find the boot to match these prints. Uncle Stan's practically free!"

Chapter

13

Frank and Joe gathered up the photographs and stacked them into piles.

"I have a feehng we'll find those boots on Rafe Collins's feet." Joe handed his stack to Frank.

''You might have some trouble persuading him to take them off/' Callie pointed out.

"Collins did the dirty work for Johnson, and Johnson may not have been fooled by our act at the mill," Joe pointed out. "He might have sent Collins after us already."

"We need to get Uncle Stan's advice. He knows these people best," Callie said. "Besides, I want to ask him why he kept his plan with Owens a secret."

Joe turned to Ronnie, who was standing, silently taking everything in. "You really think Bo

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Johnson's responsible for Owens's death?" she demanded excitedly.

Frank held up a hand to stop her. *'Remember that interview. Well, if you're quiet, you get it. If you tell, you don't."

She held the back door open for them, and they sneaked back out into the cool afternoon air.

Stan Shaw gave a low whistle as he looked over Frank's stack of photos in his kitchen less than half an hour later. "These are great pictures, Frank," Stan said. ''And it's a good thing. They might save me."

"The trouble is, we still have to find this boot to prove who committed both crimes," Frank said excitedly.

"Rafe Collins isn't the type who'll let us examine his footwear," Joe pointed out wryly. "And we're practically positive that Collins is our

guy."

"My suggestion, then, is to give these photographs to the sheriff," Stan said. "He could have Collins brought in for questioning and impound his logging boots as evidence."

"We will," Callie assured him. "But first we need to do a few things to make our case as foolproof as possible."

"Like what?" Stan asked, accepting a tuna sandwich that Joe had made.

"Like ask you why you refused to tell us about the Forest Service plan you had worked

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out with Buster Owens," Frank said, taking a sandwich and joining Stan and Callie at the table.

Stan's gaze switched to Callie.

"We found a copy of the plan," she explained nervously. "In Bo Johnson's office."

Stan slammed down his sandwich. "You were in Johnson's office? You could have been killed!"

"We had to go. Uncle Stan!" Callie protested. "You wouldn't tell us what you and Owens were meeting about. And it did turn out to be important!"

Stan stared at his niece for a moment. Then his gaze dropped to the table. "I should have told you. The only reason Buster was willing to change over to conservation-friendly equipment was to put Johnson out of business. Actually that was all right with us because all along, Johnson has violated just about every environmentally supportive law on the books. He really would shave these mountains clean and leave nothing but stumps. Buster wasn't much better at first, but at least he was willing to try—especially if it hurt Johnson. His only requirement for taking the risk was that I not say a word until it went through. He was afraid that his loggers would quit and join Johnson if they knew."

"But after he died, why couldn't you tell us then?"

Stan shook his head. "I wanted to. But I didn't want to squeal. 1 was hoping Millie would

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come around to her father's way of thinking, and I didn't want her to lose her crews. Please believe me—I never imagined that the plan could have anything to do with Buster's death. Is there any other evidence that Collins might have committed the murder?"

"Yeah," replied Joe. "Your assistant, Vance Galen, spotted CoUins's car, that old red Caddie, near Buster's truck just minutes before the explosion took place."

Stan's eyes widened. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"He's afraid of Johnson and Collins," Callie said. "And he thinks the sheriff won't believe him."

"I need to speak with him," Stan said, reaching for the phone. "He's in grave danger if Collins or Johnson is guilty and they even suspect that Galen knows. I'm afraid they're not the only ones around here who would be relieved to see him go."

Stan dialed Galen's number, but no one answered. Finally Stan replaced the receiver in its cradle.

"He might just not be answering his phone," Frank pointed out. "He was pretty spooked last time we saw him."

"I say we pay him another visit," Joe decided.

"You're right," Callie said.

"Can you distract those reporters?" Frank asked Stan. The older man nodded.

"We'll be back in an hour or two," he told

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him. ''And if we're not, send someone, like the sheriff, to find us."

"I wonder if the bulldozer will still be there," Callie said from the backseat as the jeep powered up the road on Stoner Mountain.

Joe stared out at the road. "I doubt it. Didn't Walter Ecks say he'd return it to the equipment yard?"

''I kept an eye out for strangers," Frank remarked. 'That guy in camouflage who attacked Joe might still be— What's that?" he interrupted himself as he was staring out the window.

"What?" Callie swiveled around to look.

"There was a truck parked on a logging road leading off into the woods," Frank said, turning around as well. "Yes, there it is!" he added as a truck came into view in the distance. "I think we're being followed!"

"Don't get paranoid." Joe glanced in his rear-view mirror. "We're not the only people allowed to drive on this mountain, you know."

"Yeah, but how many local folks lie in ambush for our jeep to pass by?" Frank pointed out. "Speed up," he added. "Let's do some ambushing ourselves. If it's nobody we know, at least we'll have gotten to Galen's place a little faster."

"Whatever you say." Joe pressed his foot down on the accelerator.

The jeep bolted up the mountain. It flew over

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a bump in the road and rounded a comer practically on two wheels.

Joe glanced into his rearview mirror again. 'They're lost," he reported. ''If they were ever found, that is."

"Turn off there," Frank ordered, pointing to a barely visible logging road.

"Aye-aye, sir." Joe slammed on the brakes and made a sharp right turn onto the muddy road. The jeep swerved wildly. Joe pumped the brakes again and the jeep made a 180-degree skid to face the main road.

Moments later the truck appeared, driving very slowly up the mountain as though the driver was searching for something. "Here he comes," Frank said in a soft voice. "When I give the word, block the road."

Joe kept his eyes on the truck. When Frank said, "Now," Joe slammed the car into gear and punched the accelerator.

The jeep roared out of the woods like a wild animal, heading straight toward the slow-moving truck.

Through the truck's windshield, Joe could see Freddy Zackarias scream. Frantically, the logger spun the steering wheel. But he lost control, and the truck careened off the side of the road and onto the cliff beside it.

"Is he hurt?" Callie asked as Joe pulled up next to the truck and hopped out. Freddy, in camouflage, sat inside, rubbing his forehead.

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''Bruised a little," said Joe. ''But compared to what we've been through lately, it's nothing."

"End of the line, Freddy," Frank was saying as he leaned in the window of the truck. "Hey, what's this?"

Frank reached past Freddy to retrieve something from the seat beside him. "Look," he said, holding a walkie-talkie up for Joe and Callie to see. "It says 'Property of Johnson Lumber' right here on the back."

"What do you want?" Freddy asked. He was glaring, but Joe saw fear in his eyes.

"Answers," Joe replied. "Why were you following us?"

"I wasn't. I was just going in the same direction," Freddy said.

"Uh-uh, Freddy," Frank replied, leaning his arms on the window frame of Freddy's truck and peering inside. "Somebody's been reporting our movements to Bo Johnson, and that somebody is you."

"I don't know what you're—" Freddy began defensively.

"Save it," Joe snapped. "We know you're Johnson's spy. How long have you been on our tail today? Since we left the sawmill?"

"You can't prove anything!" Freddy shouted at them.

"If I were you, I'd be scared they'd bump me off because I knew too much," Frank added.

"And if you helped Collins kill Buster Owens, that makes you an accessory to murder," Callie

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pointed out. '*I wonder how many years you'll get?"

"Ready, gang?" Joe asked, satisfied. As soon as Frank and Callie were back in the jeep, he stepped on the gas. Freddy's truck disappeared as the jeep rounded a bend.

"He might go right back to Collins and Johnson and tell them what we said," Frank remarked as they neared the top of the mountain.

"Great," said Joe. "How will that help us?"

"It might spook Collins and Johnson into doing something careless," Frank replied. "And then maybe we can catch them in the act."

"Are you sure we want to risk that?" Callie asked. "Stan was pretty worried that those guys would figure out what we were up to."

"Too late now," Joe pointed out. "If we didn't want them to know what we were up to, we never should have shown up at Bo Johnson's mill."

"Finally, we're at Walt Ecks's house. Straight grade to Vance's place. Now if we can just—"

Joe never heard the rest of Frank's sentence. In that instant a shot rang out.

"Duck!" Callie screamed.

Before Joe could even react, a bullet shattered the windshield.

Chapter

14

As Callie screamed, Frank pushed her head down and then ducked under the dashboard himself. He felt the jeep veer wildly to the right and lurch into a nearby field.

''Joe?" he yelled as the jeep rolled to a stop. There was nothing but silence.

"Joe!" Frank shouted as he reached over the gearshift for his brother.

''Yeah, yeah. I'm okay."

Frank sank back, relieved.

"But I think I got some glass in my forehead."

"You're lucky," Callie said from behind Joe's seat. "Somebody isn't kidding around."

"And we're sitting ducks," Frank added. "Joe, when I give the word, throw open your door, then you and Callie slide over and get out the passenger-side door."

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"What about our playmate with the rifle?" Joe asked.

"He should be shooting at your door," Frank explained. "It's our only chance, so let's do it. Ready? One, two, now!"

Frank knew his ruse had worked when the sniper put several rounds through the driver's door. By the time the gunman realized his error, Frank, Joe, and Callie had already scrambled into the underbrush beside the road.

"Who is that guy?" Callie whispered, clutching Frank by the arm as they crouched in the bushes, trying to catch their breath.

"What difference does it make?" whispered Joe, who hid a few feet from them.

Frank heard three shots ring out. The ground only five feet from their hiding place exploded. Callie stifled a shriek and huddled closer to Frank.

"That was too close," Frank said, feeling himself break out into a clammy sweat. "Move into the woods. Fast!"

Frank crawled on hands and knees to where the forest began. Glancing back to make sure Callie was right behind him, he dove into the darkness of the trees, then got to his feet and ran.

Despite the afternoon sun, it was dark beneath the trees. After only fifty yards Frank tripped over a trailing vine. Callie, right behind him, tripped over Frank, and Joe tripped over them

THE HARDY BOYS CA5EFILES

both. Lying still, Callie whispered tensely, ''Okay. What do we do now?"

''We could try splitting up and attacking the guy from two different directions," Joe suggested.

"What are we going to attack him with?" Frank asked impatiently. "Rocks?"

Before Joe could reply, Frank heard shots ring out from somewhere up the road. "Wait," he whispered in the silence that followed, "wasn't that a different gun?"

The crack-whiz! sounds of the second rifle's shots were answered by the familiar boom of the sniper's hunting rifle.

"It sounds like a gun battle!" Frank said, bewildered. "What's going on?"

"Maybe it's the sheriff," Callie suggested. The three of them listened a moment longer. The gunmen were definitely shooting at each other.

"Let's circle back to the road," Joe suggested.

"Right," Frank agreed. "But be careful. We don't want to get caught in crossfire!"

Frank crept behind Callie through the thick woods as she followed Joe. When they reached the bushes that lined the road, ihey paused to make sure the coast was clear.

Just as Joe started to lead them out onto the road, a car came tearing around the bend in the road. Joe froze.

"Joe!" Callie squealed helplessly.

The car slowed and the driver's head appeared through the windshield. To Frank's relief he recognized the face.

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"It's Walter!" he said to Callie. ^'Walter Ecks!"

Walter pulled the station wagon off the road, and Joe, Callie, and Frank raced toward the doors and began climbing in. ''Watch out!" Frank said to Walter. ''There's a sniper out there!"

"I know!" Automatically, Ecks ducked down to the floor along with the others. A moment later he said, "1 heard the shooting from my cabin! Is anybody hurt?"

"We're okay, thanks," Frank replied as the four of them cautiously rose a little in their seats. Frank realized that there was a pump shotgun on the seat beside the driver.

"Who was shooting at you?" Ecks demanded.

"We don't know," Callie replied. "But we heard two guns. Did you fire?"

Ecks's answer was drowned out by a wave of noise that suddenly surrounded the car. Before Frank knew what was happening, Walter Ecks was out of the station wagon, his shotgun aimed over the roof of the car at a very surprised Vance Galen. In one hand Galen held a .22 rifle.

"Don't shoot!" Galen shouted. "It was me who drove the sniper off. Anybody hurt?"

"No," Joe answered from inside the station wagon, "but our jeep got shot up."

"Did you see the sniper?" Frank asked Vance.

"Just a glimpse. It was somebody in camouflage perched in a tree." Galen made his way through the brush to the car. "1 never got a clear look at him."

THE HARDY BOYS CA5EFILE5

*'You heard shots from your place, I guess," Ecks said suspiciously, lowering his own rifle very slowly.

*'Yeah, so I came running. Then I saw your jeep and I knew something was up."

Ecks looked in the car at the three shaken teenagers. *'Who'd want to go after you?" he asked.

*'We think it has to do with Buster's murder," Frank told him.

"Somebody must have figured we were coming to see you or Vance, and they wanted to keep us from asking questions," Joe added.

Ecks sighed wearily. *'I think we'd better go see the sheriff," he said. ''We've got one fine person dead already. No use in more of us following."

"You're right, sir." Frank turned pointedly to Vance Galen. "It's time we all talked to Ferris."

"Will you talk to Ferris now, Vance?" Callie asked, her eyes searching his face.

"Yes!" Galen said. "I've had enough of this violence!"

"And, sir," Frank added to Walter Ecks, "you should tell him about the bulldozer being taken."

Ecks nodded. "Sure, if you think it will help. I want to get the guys who killed Buster."

"Why don't you take Vance into town?" Frank suggested. "Tell Ferris we'll be in soon."

"Where are you going?" Galen asked.

"Relax," Frank assured him. "We're going

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out to find a piece of evidence that may just solve the case."

''Where are we going, Frank?" Joe asked as the two men drove off in Ecks's car.

''We're going to find Coilins's car," Frank replied. "Maybe there's something in it that will link Collins to the murder."

''How are we going to find it?" Callie asked. "Even if CoUins was the guy who shot at us, he could be anywhere by now."

"My guess is that Collins headed for someplace where witnesses could vouch for his presence. A place like Johnson Lumber," Frank speculated. "He probably needs to tell Johnson what's happening, anyway."

Joe frowned. "1 guess it's as good a place to look as any. But what if Collins's car isn't there?"

"Then we give Ferris the evidence and information we have already, and hope it's enough."

It took nearly half an hour to clean up the jeep and check the tires for punctures. When they finished, it was nearly five o'clock.

"Look for a red Cadillac convertible," Frank said as they pulled up to the far end of the Johnson lumberyard's parking lot. The three of them scanned the lot, but the Cadillac wasn't there.

"Now what?" said Callie.

"Now you go ask the guard where CoHins is," Frank said simply.

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'*I what?"

'Tell him you're his parole officer. You need to have him sign some papers right away, or he's in big trouble. Act angry," Frank said, fighting a grin.

Callie hesitated. ''I don't look much like a parole officer after rolling around in the mud," she pointed out.

''Come on, Callie, we have faith in you," Joe prodded, grinning. "The guards will never recognize you without a hard hat on. We'll wait here."

Shaking her head, Callie climbed out of the backseat and headed across the parking lot toward the guard's post by the gate. A few minutes later she was back again. Frank was amused to see her walking primly, with a frown on her face, as though she'd taken on the character of a parole officer and now she couldn't shake it off.

"Where to, boss?" Frank asked as Joe put the jeep into gear.

"Sector eight," Callie answered mysteriously. "Collins is out inspecting log flumes. I know the sectors from inspecting the forests with Uncle Stan. They're numbered one through ten, with number one closest to the mill. Go straight on the access road until I tell you to turn."

As they drove along the muddy, heavily rutted road, Frank looked for CoUins's red Caddy. "I can't wait to return this jeep to the rental counter now," Joe remarked glumly as he, too,

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searched through the trees. *'Let's see, should we tell them a plane wandered off its flight path and flew straight through our windshield? Or maybe the Abominable Snowman turned up and sat on it."

''Don't worry," said Frank. "If we solve this case the rental agent will know who we are. And of course we'll pay for any damage not covered by the insurance."

"Sssh!" Calhe interrupted, staring to the right and ahead of the car. 'There it is!"

Following Callie's orders, Joe turned right onto a still narrower dirt road. The Cadillac was parked beside a tractor-trailer loaded with metal pipes. The big truck sat next to a large trestle of wood and steel that supported a V-shaped wooden log flume that logs sped down on their way to the sawmill.

"Wow, I've never seen one of these outside an amusement park," Joe said. Frank studied how the flume was built beside a creek that flowed down toward the sawmill. A mechanical pump channeled water into the flume, so that even the largest logs could float down the V-shaped wooden tray to the sawmill. They picked up speed as they coursed downhill.

"I don't see Collins," Frank said to Joe. "Cal-lie, keep a lookout. Let's get to work, fast!"

As Frank and Joe clambered out of the jeep and ran over to the Cadillac, Caliie climbed onto the roof of the tractor-trailer's cab to get a better view of the surrounding forest.

THE HARDY BOYS CA5EFILE5

''Any blood on the backseat?" Frank asked Joe as he reached beneath the driver's seat, finding nothing.

"No. If he took Buster to the Horizon mill in here, he must have put a blanket under him," Joe replied. Then he added, "Bingo! Frank, I found it!"

Frank raised his head over the front seat to see Joe kneeling on the floor behind him. He'd opened a metal tool chest that was stashed behind the driver's seat. The top tray was removed, and Joe held a shiny object half-wrapped in an oily rag.

"What is it?" Frank demanded.

Gleefully, Joe shook the object until the rag fell back, revealing the find to Frank.

"The key ring!" Frank said, a grin spreading across his face. "We've got Collins now, Joe!"

"Not quite!" growled a low voice.

The hair rose on the back of Frank's neck as he slowly turned toward the voice. He knew without looking what he'd find there.

It was Rafe Collins, in camouflage, standing beside the trailer load of pipes. He was pointing a rifle straight at Frank. Frank stared at Collins's index finger as it tightened on the trigger.

Chapter

15

"Get out of the car," Collins told Frank and Joe. "Don't make any sudden moves."

The Hardys stared at the angry, hawk-nosed man in the dim light of the forest. Behind him, Joe ghmpsed Callie's hand waving to get the boys' attention from the far end of the trailer truck.

Frank's intent, watchful expression revealed that he had noticed Callie, too.

"Let's go," Collins barked. "I don't want to get any bullet holes in my Cadillac."

"Looks like it could use a little work," Joe muttered as, hands up, he stepped out of the car. "I guess this mountain life just isn't good for it."

Collins stared at him, unsure whether Joe had insulted him or not. "You've got a smart mouth,

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kid," he said at last. *'You'd better watch out or I just might shut it for you."

*'Don't you have to ask Johnson's permission first?" Frank asked pointedly.

Joe watched as CoUins's squinty eyes got even narrower. '*Keep talking, wiseguys," Collins muttered. ''You're only making it worse for yourselves."

Joe kept stalling so that Callie could make her move. "You're in a big hurry to shoot us, aren't you, Collins? You think that's going to solve all your problems?"

"That would be a big mistake," Frank said, following Joe's lead. "At least before you find out who we've talked to and what we told them."

"Shut up!" Collins exploded. Waving the rifle back and forth between them, he snarled, "Where's the girl?"

Joe saw Callie make an "okay" sign with her thumb and forefinger from atop the pipes at the far end of the trailer. Then she stood up and shoved with all her strength on the end of one pipe.

"All right!" Joe shouted. The pipe shot out and struck Collins on the right shoulder, sending him pitching forward. As Collins stumbled to his knees, his rifle swung up. Joe pounced.

"Grab the rifle!" he yelled at his brother as he grappled with the man on the forest floor. Frank leapt forward and grabbed the barrel of the rifle. Wrestling it upward, Frank tried to

Deodfoll

force the rifle out of Collins's hands. But in the next instant the foreman sent Joe flying with one arm and shoved the rifle stock into Frank's stomach with the other.

With a grunt, Frank collapsed like a sack of potatoes.

"Joe!" Callie called from the top of the trailer.

Dazed, Joe looked up from where he'd fallen to watch, horrified, as Collins lifted his rifle and aimed it directly at Frank.

Joe leapt to his feet and fell onto CoUins's back, sending him sprawling sideways with the rifle an arm's length away.

'*Watch it, Collins!" Joe taunted, grabbing the rifle and flinging it into the bushes. "You almost hurt yourself!" He danced from side to side, trying to draw attention away from his brother.

"So you got rid of my gun, eh?" Collins growled. "That's okay." Collins staggered toward Joe. "A knife fight's more my style anyway."

Whipping a knife out of a leather sheath that hung from his belt, Collins feinted at Joe. Joe jumped back, and the ex-convict slashed his knife sideways in a glittering, underhanded sweep that missed Joe's stomach by inches.

"Especially if the other guy doesn't have one," Joe retorted. He danced backward, farther and farther away from Frank. Collins took the bait, running after Joe and slashing the air between them with his gleaming blade.

"Frank! Callie! Get out of here!" Joe shouted

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as he worked his way backward, always a step from Collins's vicious slashes. Behind Collins, Joe watched as Callie raced over to Frank and helped him up.

''Run for the jeep!" Joe called as he moved away from the flashing blade.

Collins spun around to see Callie and Frank getting away. Enraged, he charged toward them, cutting off their path to the jeep.

Joe ran after Collins as fast as he could. Just as he was prepared to lunge at the foreman again, though, Collins turned and brandished the knife in his face.

''Come on, kid," Collins shouted. "Try me!"

As Joe and Collins circled each other in a deadly game of tag, Joe's eye was caught by a group of tree trunks floating quickly down the flume. They gave him an idea.

"Frank, Callie, run to the log flume! Ride a log to get away!" Joe shouted.

Keeping himself between Collins and Frank and Calhe, Joe backed toward the flume. He circled to avoid Collins's blade, glancing repeatedly over his shoulder until the flume came into full view.

Frank, weak but determined, was already standing on the edge of the two-foot-deep flume. As Joe watched in quick glimpses, Frank and Callie jumped aboard the next log that rumbled by. Holding their arms out and keeping their legs flexed for balance, they slid down the man-made stream. Collins moved forward again, and Joe

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lost sight of them as he concentrated on getting away.

''It's all right, kid," Collins growled as he tried to force Joe back against a pine tree. "They can get away. I still have you to hold hostage."

"You wish, Collins," Joe said, ducking out of the foreman's reach. The flume was only a few steps behind him now. "When I get out of here I'm going straight to the sheriff," Joe taunted. "Your days of freedom are numbered."

Just before Joe reached the flume, Collins made a quick lunge at him. Joe slammed a karate chop down on Collins's wrist. But the blow failed to knock the knife loose from his hand. Doubly enraged, Collins now charged at the boy with his knife raised above his head.

A sudden roaring noise warned Joe that another log was on its way down. He turned in time to see the huge log appear in the flume. As it passed, Joe sprang up and landed awkwardly on the slick bark, faced in the wrong direction.

Thrilled to get away from the deranged murderer, Joe maintained his balance and slowly turned around to face the front on the swiftly moving log.

"Cool," he said to himself as the dusky landscape surged past. "It's like catching a monster wave at the beach!"

Moments later the flume began to level out. Up ahead, Joe could see that it emptied into a dammed-up backwater. As Joe's log sped

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toward the pool of still water, Joe prepared for the rough landing. At the end of the flume, the log dropped out from under him, and Joe flew through the air to land in the water with a splash.

He sank down through the water, then bobbed back up to the surface. He shook the water out of his hair and hooted triumphantly. He spotted Frank and Callie watching from a huge log boom—a raft of five dozen huge tree trunks lashed together and chained to a spotlighted dock.

''We made it!" Joe cried as he swam toward them. "You were great, Callie!" He reached the edge of the boom and grabbed the nearest log to try to pull himself up. But the wood was too slippery.

"How about a hand here?" he called.

Joe was surprised when Frank and Callie didn't move to help him.

"Are you guys deaf? I asked for a hand up!"

As Joe tried to scramble up on the slippery log by himself, he saw that someone was standing up behind Callie and Frank.

It was Bo Johnson.

Johnson stepped nimbly over to Joe's log and whipped a snub-nosed revolver out of his belt.

"Sure, kid," he said as he shoved it in Joe's face. "I'll give you a hand—right into your grave!"

Joe cast a quick glance in Frank's direction.

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A discreet nod told him Frank was ready for action.

''I can't get up," Joe said to Johnson in a casual voice. "Really—can you help me up?"

"Not a chance, kid," Johnson snapped. "I'm not that dumb."

"Let me help," Frank said quietly, taking a step toward Johnson.

Johnson wheeled around, pointing the gun at Frank. "Stay where you are!"

It was a perfect chance, and Joe took it. Pushing down on the log, he shot up out of the water, grabbed Johnson around the upper body, and pinned his arms to his sides. At the same time, Frank slammed into Johnson from the other side, and Joe, Frank, and Johnson fell backward into the dark green water of the millpond.

As soon as they hit the water, Frank was separated from his brother and the mill owner. For long, frightening seconds, he struggled to find them in the murky water beside the massive logs. Finally out of breath, he swam to the surface and saw his brother pop up at the same time. Callie cried out, "Joe! Watch out!" as Bo Johnson lunged at Joe from behind. Joe turned and struck out. He caught Johnson on the side of the head and watched as he fell backward, striking his head on a floating log. He slid silently beneath the surface of the water.

"Catch him!" Frank ordered. "Otherwise he'll drown."

Joe and Frank towed the unconscious sawmill

THE HARDY BOYS CA5EFILE5

owner back toward the raft, where Callie stood watching. Frank kept Johnson afloat while Joe cUmbed onto the raft. Then he and Callie hauled Johnson aboard and laid him on his side. Johnson drew a deep, shuddery breath, then pushed himself up on his elbows.

Frank pulled himself up onto the raft and walked over to Johnson. ''Can you stand, Mr. Johnson?" he asked as he helped him up. ''Good. Then you can come with us to see Sheriff Ferris.''

Johnson coughed again. "You'll never get me there."

"Who's going to stop us?" Joe asked as they led Johnson across the log boom toward the dock. "You can't, and your hired thug, ColHns, is back up the mountain."

"Your first mistake was underestimating us, Johnson," Frank said. He quickly added, "Your second one was trying to frame a friend of ours. Now it's payback time."

"Don't be so sure your plans will work out so perfectly," Johnson said.

Callie interrupted. "How will we get out of here?"

"We'll use Johnson's car," Joe replied. "I'm sure he won't mind giving us a lift to Ferris's office."

In the distance Joe heard a car approaching. It sounded like someone was playing the radio. The sound grew louder and Joe spotted a large

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red car speeding down the access road to the dock.

''Here comes the cavalry," Johnson said smugly.

The red Cadillac squealed to a stop at the base of the dock, and Rafe Collins hopped out. Beaming at the Hardys, Collins went around to the trunk of the car, opened it, and pulled out a chainsaw with the longest blade Joe had ever seen.

"Howdy, kids!" he called as he reached forward to thumb the starter switch on. "It's wood-shop time!"

As Callie and the Hardys stared in horror, the chainsaw started up with an ear-splitting roar.

Chapter

16

"Scatter!" Frank ordered.

*'What about Johnson?" Joe shouted.

'Torget Johnson!" Frank shouted back. ''Save yourself!"

ColHns jumped off the end of the dock and landed easily on the log boom. Frank stared in horror as he moved to within thirty feet of Joe, who stubbornly held on to Johnson.

Suddenly Johnson's elbow shot back and jabbed into Joe's stomach. Joe let go of Johnson and doubled over in pain. But Joe knew he had to act fast.

He straightened up and slammed Johnson in the jaw with a sudden uppercut. Silently Johnson collapsed to the floor of the raft.

The instant Johnson dropped, Collins charged Joe with the chainsaw. Callie screamed, but

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Frank remained perfectly still, tensed for action. The big saw looked heavy, he observed, but Collins had the strength to swing its blade around in wide, dangerous slashes.

As Collins drew close to Joe, Frank's eyes darted around him in search of something to use as a weapon. At last he spotted two rusty pea-veys leaning against the side of the dock. Six-foot poles topped with long pointed spikes and a bared hook, peaveys were used by loggers to manhandle the logs in the water. But Frank had another use for them.

Behind Collins's back, Frank dashed over to the peaveys, picking up one in each hand. ''Catch, Joe!" he shouted, hurling the peavey in his left hand Hke a javelin. It sailed past Collins to Joe, who caught it in both hands.

Joe instantly turned the peavey against Col-Hns, holding it out in front of him like a spear. With a laugh, Collins dodged the peavey's point and swung his chainsaw blade around to lop off its head. The sharp steel tip hit the log beneath their feet with a dull thud.

''Too bad, son!" Collins jeered as Joe retreated several steps, still holding the pole out before him. Collins slashed his sawblade in a Z-shaped pattern, cutting off another foot of Joe's pole. "Better give up now!"

Collins was so occupied with cornering Joe that he failed to notice Frank charging toward him from behind. Slamming the peavey straight down over Collins's shoulder, Frank used the

THE HARDY BOYS CA5EFILES

peavey like a crowbar to pry the chainsaw from the foreman's hands.

Frank and Joe watched, fascinated, as the huge chainsaw went skidding over the edge of the log boom into the water and sank in a trail of oily bubbles.

''You!" Collins roared, turning his rage on Frank. But Frank was ready for him. He swung the peavey down on ColUns's shoulder, then brought up the butt end of the pole and struck the foreman in the stomach. Callie and Joe watched, frozen, as Collins staggered backward into the pool.

"He's drowning!" Callie shouted as Frank and Joe watched Collins flounder in the water. Frank grabbed the peavey and snagged the collar of Colhns's shirt with the hook.

"Had enough, Collins?" Frank asked.

Collins glared at the Hardys. Then he nodded sullenly.

The next morning Frank was still sore from the previous day's adventures as he sat at Sheriff Ferris's desk, sipping a soda. Joe sat on one side of Frank, with Callie on the other. Stan Shaw stood, leaning against the wall next to Callie.

"Now let me make sure I have all of this straight," Ferris was saying. "It was Rafe Collins who actually planted the dynamite in the Horizon sawmill."

"Right," Frank confirmed. "My guess is that

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if you compare Johnson Lumber's dynamite with the results of the arson investigators' lab results that should arrive today, the two should match perfectly. And remember that Vance Galen saw Collins's red Cadillac by the mill just before it blew up."

''So far the story holds together," Ferris replied. ''But how did Buster Owens end up in the Horizon mill?"

"First, you need to remember that Collins had Buster's key ring," Joe responded. "Millie Owens identified it herself, right?"

The sheriff nodded.

"That key ring could only have come from Buster," Joe continued. "Since Buster had the keys until at least an hour before he died, chances are that he killed Buster and stole the keys. And then there are the bootprints. Did you compare Collins's boots with those prints Frank photographed?"

"I certainly did, last night," the sheriff told the group. "The sole of one boot has three missing hobnails right where Frank's pictures showed them missing."

"Did you find Collins's fingerprints on the dynamite he planted in Stan Shaw's truck, or on the bulldozer he tried to ram us with?" Frank asked.

"Nope," Ferris told him. "He must have been wearing gloves. But the bootprints, along with the key ring and Galen's testimony, might be evidence enough."

THE HARDY BOYS CA5EFILE5

"What I don't get is why Johnson framed me/' Stan said mildly.

"Yeah. Vance Galen would seem a more likely person to pin it on," Joe agreed.

"But if Stan was being held by the sheriff as a murderer, it would give Johnson a better chance to get that franchise from the Forest Service. After all, that's what he was aiming for," Frank pointed out.

"You see. Sheriff," Frank went on, "we think that when Johnson learned what Buster was planning, he figured the only way to keep from being put out of business was to close down Horizon Lumber until he could retool at Johnson Lumber. That's why he tried to buy the equipment that was intended for Horizon."

"But why would he kill poor Buster?" Stan Shaw wondered.

"I'm not so sure killing Buster was part of the plan," Joe replied. "Judging by the way his truck was forced off the road some distance from the mill. Buster's running into Collins might have been an accident. Maybe Collins panicked when he realized Buster was headed for his mill, and forced him off the road. He knocked him out and then decided to eliminate him by leaving him in the mill."

"Well, all that's for a jury to decide," Ferris observed. "At least now the right people will be tried for the crimes. Stan, I'm sorry you had to go through all this."

"No hard feelings," Stan Shaw said with a

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wan smile. ''You were just doing your job. But if that's all you need, I'd like to get out of here."

"Of course," Ferris agreed as he stood up and opened his office door. ''I guess I can get the rest of the story from Freddy Zackarias," Ferris said with a knowing chuckle. ''Guess he was pretty busy acting as a spy for Collins. Collins wouldn't have known where you'd be without Freddy following you fellas. But I think Freddy's ready to testify against Collins and Johnson—he was in way over his head. Frank and Joe, you and Callie have been a big help. If I need more information—"

"We'll be happy to help, Sheriff," Frank re-pHed as everyone headed for the door. "We'll be here in Crosscut for another week or so."

"Let's hit the Potbelly Cafe," Stan said as the weary group filed outside of the office. "I'm craving some of their fried chicken and biscuits. And to show you all how grateful I am, the meal's on me."

"Can't say no to that, can we, Frank?" said Joe with a wink.

"No way," Frank agreed. "But there's just one commitment we have to honor first."

"Oh?" Stan Shaw paused, looking puzzled. "What more commitments could you boys have?"

"A personal interview with Ronnie Croft," Frank started to explain. And, as Callie and Joe joined him, he added, "An exclusive!"

Frank and Joe's next cose:

The Hardy boys have come to the Yucatan to take on a gang of grave robbers. Stolen Mexican artifacts have appeared in Bayport, and Frank and Joe intend to cut the smugglers off at the source. But the jungle is full of deception and distraction, including a bevy of beautiful models who have appeared at the site for a photo shoot.

A different kind of shooting, though, quickly puts the Hardys back on track. The raiders of the Mayan pyramids are not about to give up their lucrative looting without a fight. They plan to draw Frank and Joe into the jungle and add two deep new chambers to the ancient tombs ... in Grave Danger, Case #61 in The Hardy Boys Casefiles'".

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