The Secret of Pirates' Hill Read Online Free Page A

head start, he reached a parked motorcycle, jumped on, and sped off.
    From the silhouette of the rider and the sound of the motor, there was no doubt in the Hardys’ minds as to the spy’s identity.
    â€œIt’s the guy we’re looking for!” Joe exclaimed.
    Together, the Hardys ran back to their car and hurried after the suspect. They had covered nearly two miles before they caught sight of him. Reaching the crest of the next slope, he looked back. Seeing that his pursuers were getting closer, he revved his machine and shot into the curving downgrade.
    â€œFaster!” Joe urged. “He’s getting away from us!”
    Their car whined around the curve in hot pursuit of the Kesselring. Once again they came to a straight stretch of road, but there was no sign of the motorcyclist.
    â€œHe turned off!” Joe said in disappointment.
    â€œHe must have swung into that dirt road we just passed. Let’s go back!” Frank exclaimed.
    Screeching to a stop, he made a U-turn and sped to the side road. They plunged onto the rough, narrow, dirt lane. Fresh motorcycle marks were clearly evident. Dust filled the air, choking the boys as they sped along.
    â€œStop!” Joe cried suddenly. “The track ends here!”
    Frank parked the car and locked it, then both boys ran back to the point where the tracks turned off into the pine woods.
    â€œHe couldn’t go very far through here on his motorcycle,” Frank said as they pressed on excitedly.
    â€œYou’re right!” Joe whispered. “Look!”

CHAPTER V
    The Stakeout
    AHEAD of the Hardys in the deep woods stood a cabin. The Kesselring was parked near the front door.
    Quietly the boys moved into a position giving them a better view of the building.
    â€œShall we go in?” Joe asked in a low voice.
    â€œI’ll go,” Frank replied. “You cover the rear, okay?”
    â€œRoger.”
    Frank walked cautiously toward the front door. It was open and the place appeared to be deserted. The young detective strode inside. No one was in sight!
    Frank went out and joined Joe. “He gave us the slip!” he said in disgust.
    â€œBut not for long. He’ll be back for his bike,” Joe said. He suggested that they pretend to leave, then double back and stay in hiding until the man returned.
    â€œSuppose he finds out our car is still on the road,” Frank said.
    â€œWe’ll have to take that chance,” Joe declared.
    The boys walked off in the direction of their convertible, but five hundred feet beyond the cabin they turned and quietly made their way back. Hiding behind clumps of brush, they began their vigil. Fifteen minutes went by. Thirty.
    Suddenly the quiet of the morning was broken by the crackling sound of footsteps.
    The Hardys tensed. Someone was approaching from behind them. They shifted their position.
    â€œGet ready, Joe,” Frank whispered.
    The steps grew louder and a tall figure appeared through the brush. The boys pounced on the newcomer and all three fell hard to the ground.
    â€œBowden!” Joe gasped.
    â€œFor heaven’s sake, what ails you guys?” the man stormed, picking himself up.
    â€œWe thought you were someone else,” Joe replied.
    â€œWhy are you here?” Frank asked, wondering if Bowden had a rendezvous with the occupant of the cabin.
    â€œI might ask you the same thing,” Bowden retorted.

    The boys pounced on the newcomer
    â€œThat’s easily answered,” Frank said, pointing to the motorcycle. “We want to talk to the man who owns it.”
    â€œDo you know him?” Joe asked Bowden.
    â€œNever saw the thing before,” he answered.
    â€œNow tell us what brings you here,” Frank went on.
    â€œA tip about the demiculverin.” Bowden glanced about apprehensively. “It may be buried near here.”
    Both boys surmised this was another phony story. Bowden was carrying no digging tools, nor was he