027 The Secret of Skull Mountain by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon [Dixon, Franklin W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XI

Cast Adrift

WHEN FRANK swung the Sleuth out of the boathouse and roared after Sweeper’s speeding craft, he knew his mission was a tough one.

“Can’t let him know he’s being followed,” the young detective cautioned himself.

He guided his boat skillfully across Barmet Bay, skirting ships and smaller craft, going fast enough to keep Sweeper in sight without attracting his attention.

The thin man’s speedboat headed out to sea. After half an hour Frank saw his quarry approaching rock-bound Merriam Island. Sweeper stowed his boat and disappeared behind a jutting finger of rocks. Frank cut his motor and let the Sleuth drift toward a tiny dock which extended from a narrow beach.

He leaped out as his speedboat swung alongside the dock, and secured it. He saw no sign of activity in the lighthouse tower.

“Guess the keeper’s asleep,” he muttered.

Staying near the shore, Frank clambered over sharp rocks and ran along short stretches of sand toward the spot where he had seen Sweeper’s boat disappear.

Cautiously he approached a cove and saw the craft rocking gently a short distance from land. Sweeper was pacing the beach and glancing frequently out to sea.

“He must be waiting for someone,” Frank told himself. To watch the man, he stretched out on a smooth boulder, hidden from Sweeper’s view by a low shelf of rocks.

Minutes ticked by. When an hour had passed, Frank saw that Sweeper was becoming impatient. The man paced the sand with short, jerky steps, stopping from time to time to glare at the sea. Finally he rolled up his trouser legs and waded toward his boat.

At that instant came the put-put of a launch. It rounded the high rocks sheltering the cove and stopped well beyond the surf.

The man at the wheel fumbled with something in his hands, and tossed a tin can into the water. He waved to Sweeper, pointed at the can, and swung the launch back toward Bayport.

Frank, puzzled, watched the can dance on the waves. Then the surf caught it, and a white lip of foam hurled the container toward the beach.

Sweeper waded out and plucked the can from the water. He pried open the lid and took out a slip of paper. After scanning it, he shook his head, crumpled the paper into a ball, and threw it into the ocean.

The thin man waded to the speedboat, got in, and cast off. A few seconds later he eased his craft out of the cove and sent it roaring through the waves.

Frank rose from his hiding place, ran to the sandy beach, and waded into the surf. He snatched the soggy ball of paper from the churning water. Returning to the beach, he unfolded the dripping sheet carefully. The typewritten message was still legible. It read:Meeting postponed until midnight tonight. Will meet you at buoy off Barmet light.

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