The End of the Trail Read Online Free Page B

said.”
    â€œThat’s not fair,” Chet said. “You can’t tell us something like that and then leave us hanging.”
    Loraleigh ignored them and pulled a small cardboard box down from a shelf behind the counter.
    â€œWould you like some mints?” she asked, holding the box out to the Hardys and their friends. “We have the chocolate-covered kind.”
    â€œAll right!” Chet exclaimed, his face breaking out in a radiant smile. “I love mints. I’ll take one package.”
    â€œGreat,” Joe said. “She’s already distracted Chet with food.”
    Frank leaned across the counter. “Okay, you don’t want to tell us why we’re in trouble. But at least you can tell us about this store—and your town.”
    â€œI might be able to do that,” Loraleigh said. “What do you want to know?”
    â€œWell, why is the town called Morgan’s Quarry?” Phil asked.
    â€œBecause there’s a large granite quarry about two miles from here,” Loraleigh said. “The town was built around the quarry. The whole McSavage Corporation was built around the quarry. They had a major mining operation here for years, which they bought back around 1900 from a guy whose family started it. Their name was Morgan.”
    â€œThe McSavage Corporation?” Joe asked.
    â€œOwned by the McSavage family,” Loraleigh told them. “The last McSavage owns that big house up on the hill. Maybe you noticed it.”
    â€œAs a matter of fact,” Frank said, “I noticed a mansion on a hill when we came into town.”
    â€œThat’s it—the McSavage mansion,” Loraleigh said. “He owns the quarry.”
    â€œI bet he’s rich,” Chet said.
    â€œNot exactly rich anymore, but okay,” Loraleigh said. “All of the granite was dug out of the quarry by the 1920s.”
    â€œAnd the quarry was the only source of income for this town?” Frank asked.
    â€œPretty much,” Loraleigh said.
    â€œSo how has the town survived without the quarry?” Joe asked.
    â€œNot well, but we make do,” Loraleigh said with a shrug.
    â€œI’m not sure it has survived,” Phil said. “The population of the town appears to be small; the houses are neglected; you don’t have much stuff on the shelves. I’d say that this town is pretty much dead now that the quarry is gone.”
    â€œLike I said,” Loraleigh told Phil, her brow furrowed, “we make do.”
    â€œOkay,” Frank said. “I’ve got another question. Why is this store called Sugaree’s Shack?”
    Loraleigh’s face brightened. “Sugaree was my great-great-great-grandmother. She was a young southern woman who moved north after the Civil War. She opened this store to sell groceries and tools to miners.”
    Joe glanced around at the dusty shelves. “This place kind of looks like it’s left over from just after the Civil War.”
    â€œActually,” Loraleigh said, “it was rebuilt in the 1920s.”
    â€œWas anything in this town built after the 1920s?” Frank asked.
    â€œNot much,” Loraleigh told him. “Like I said, the mine ran out of granite. There hasn’t been much money in town since then.”
    Joe patted his pocket. “Hey, maybe I’m the richest guy around. Want to sell me some of your most expensive goodies?”
    â€œThe richest guy in town, although not that rich,” Loraleigh informed him, “is Bill McSavage, the one who lives in that mansion on top of the hill.”
    â€œHow has the McSavage family managed to keep some of its money if they haven’t had a granite quarry since the 1920s?” Chet asked.
    â€œThey made some good investments,” Loraleigh said. “Now, can I sell you something?”
    â€œI’d like this compass,” Phil said, pulling a box off one of the shelves. “It’s nicer than the