CHAPTER XIX

Atom Crackers

"where's the gold?" Joe cried, rushing to Chet's side, as the youth tried to lift the box up and set it on the ground.

"I'll help you open it," General Smith offered, excited as a boy.

The officer picked up a flat stone, and with a mighty swinging blow, knocked off one of the rusty hinges. Chet pulled up the lid, as the others looked on, holding their breath in anticipation.

Inside the box were a dozen heavy horseshoes!

"Gosh," Chet said, a pout of disappointment thrusting his lower lip forward. "Why would any body put horseshoes in a strongbox?"

"Just for luck." Joe grinned.

"Maybe they were used as weights," Frank sug gested. "Let's see what's underneath them."

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150 The Secret of the Lost Tunnel

Quickly lifting the horseshoes out of the box, he found a piece of rawhide. Underneath it, in the bottom of the box, lay a sheaf of papers.

"You guessed right, Frank," the general said. "This probably was the box in which the blacksmith kept his records."

This proved to be the case. Sheet after sheet were bills for barrels of nails, bars of iron, and other material used in the old shop. The last piece of paper read:

"From Westchester Arms Co., Sheffield, Eng.

30 muskets-100 cannon balls." Below was scrawled, "Taken to arsenal."

Seeing the word arsenal, General Smith's countenance took on a look of renewed interest.

"So old Beaurcgard had his own personal arsenal!" he said. "That's news to me."

"It wasn't on the blueprint," Joe remarked.

"It must have been one of the plantation's secrets,"* Frank ventured.

"I can understand why," General Smith reasoned. "Whoever controlled the arsenal controlled the plantation."

"1 think this is a hot clue," Frank spoke up. "If we could find the arsenal, we might find the gold or at least directions to it."

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"Frank, you've got something there!" Joe agreed. "Where do you suppose it is?"

"Probably a long distance from the plantation buildings," the general said, "and underground. In the first place, it would be dangerous to bury explosives near the main buildings, and in the second place, it probably would be in a secret spot. I'd suggest we go home and study the blueprint for clues. Also," he added with a look at Chet, "Claude has a surprise for dinner."

"General Smith," Chet said, beaming, "I'd like to be in your regiment!" The boy picked up his camera. "Cut before we go, I want somebody to take a picture of me holding this clue."

Chet posed by the box he had unearthed, while Frank held the camera.

"This is the last one on the film," Frank said. "You'd better not move."

Just as he snapped it, however, Chet lost his balance. General Smith wagged his head as he smilingly led the group to the car.

When they arrived home, Joe noticed two letters lying on the hall table. They were for the Hardys.

"One's from Aunt Gertrude," he said, recognizing the handwriting. "Let's open it first."

He tore off the flap of the envelope, unfolded the crackling piece of paper and read aloud:

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" 'Dear Boys,

I hope you arrived safe and are well. Joe, be careful about getting your feet wet because it makes you sneeze, and if you must race around, don't get overheated, 1 want I'rank to be cautious about solving tliat mysterious telephone call from the woman. Look out for two-faced strangers, too, as people sometimes aren't what they first seem to be. If Chet gets sick from eating too much, I put a bottle of castor oil in the glove compartment in the dashboard. As lor the general . . .'"

Joe reddened clear to the roots of his hair and gulped.

"Go ahead," said the brigadier, smiling as he noticed the boy's embarrassment. "Read on. I can take it!"

" 'As for the general," Frank continued, "I wish he'd get a haircut now that he's back home. Land sakes, I never saw a general with such long hair! Oh, there's the man to cut the grass. With love.

Aunt Gertrude' "

"Well," said General Smith with a chuckle as he

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fingered the hair of the nape of his neck, "I promise to reform and get a haircut in Centerville tomorrow."

If the first letter evoked laughter, the second one was destined not to carry any such merriment. Joe opened it, frowned, and read aloud:

" 'Hardy Boys,

Clear out and go back to Bayport if you want to stay healthy. Kids who don't mind their own business end up in the graveyard. If Smith finds the gold, he can't claim it regardless.' "

It was unsigned.

"Jumping catfish!" Joe exploded.

"S-somebody doesn't like us," Chet stammered. "Maybe we'd better go home. I think I've seen enough of the South, anyway."

"What's the postmark?" General Smith asked, taking the envelope. "Centerville, eh?"

"Which means," Frank reasoned, "that Dr. Bush or his men haven't left town. Let's call the police, and see if they've arrested anyone."

The chief informed the general, who telephoned, that no one had returned to the museum, nor had anyone fitting the description of Randolph, Smiley, ot Baby Face been picked up.

154 The Secret of the Lost Tunnel

"So they're still at large," General Smith said reflectively as he reported to the boys. "Now that this note has come, perhaps you fellows had better retire from the case. Your lives are in danger."

"We'll get Bush before he gets us!" Joe burst out.

"But we've got to act fast," Frank added.

"I admire your spirit." General Smith smiled. "Your plan of taking the offensive is in the best military tradition. An offense is sometimes the best defense. But we'll have to be doubly alert."

"What does this letter mean about your not owning the gold if you find it?" Joe asked.

"That's a lot of jet wash," the brigadier replied. "Of course, the gold that belongs to the bank will be returned to that institution, which has survived to this day. The rest of the treasure rightfully belongs to Beauregard Smith's heirs and I'll see that they get il!"

"I wish we knew what Dr. Bush looks like," Frank mused. "We may have seen him many times, but all we know is, he has long legs, carries a black bag, and probably has a number of aliases."

"I'd like to get a picture of the other naif of him," Chet remarked. "Which reminds me I need some film. I'll run into town after dinner and get some."

Leaving the Hardys and the general mulling over their plan of attack, Chet took the coupe and drove

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to Centerville. He parked in front, of the toxvn's stationery store and went inside. After getting the roll of film he had left there to be developed, he asked for a new one.

"Anything else?" the wizened little man asked.

"Guess not," Chet replied as he paid the man and glanced around the store in wonder. Everything from jelly beans to furniture cluttered the walls of the establishment. Finally Chet's eyes fell on a string of tiny red balls hanging from a wooden rack.

"What are they?" he asked.

"Atom crackers."

"Atom crackers? Do you eat 'em?"

"I should say not," said the shriveled little man dryly. "If you ate those, they'd blow you inside out!"

"I get it," Chet said, laughing. "They're like firecrackers."

"Only a hundred times as loud," replied the man. "Want some? Fourth of July'll be here soon."

Chet beamed as he thought of scaring the Hardys with the powerful atom crackers.

"I'll take a dozen."

The man put twelve of the little red balls in a bag and handed it to Chet. As the boy went &tit the door, the shopkeeper warned him to run away quickly after he lighted the fuse.

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"They're harmless, but they make enough noise to wake up Jeff Davis."

Intrigued by the thought of setting off an atom cracker, Chet reached into the bag and pulled one out as soon as he reached the sidewalk. Had he noticed that he stood directly across the street from the Centerville Police Station, Chet would have thought twice before he struck the match in his hand.

But Chet, oblivious to everything but the red atom cracker, grinned. He lit the fuse and hopped back, at the same time lifting his hands to his ears. As he did, the bag slipped from his fingers. The atom crackers landed directly on top of the sputtering fuse!

In a trice Centerville shook to the explosion of the atom crackers, which sounded like a bombardment. Chet shuddered at every blast, hoping no more would go off, but the whole twelve sent their rapid-fire reverberations echoing and re-echoing through the sleepy town.

"Oh! Oh!" Chet moaned, seeing people pop their heads out cf doors and windows.

The exclamation was hardly off his lips when three policemen came storming from the station house. All were armed with tommy guns and pistols.

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Chet's jaw dropped when they rushed at him. "Don't shooU" he begged, his face the picture of abject misery. "I didn't mean to do it!"

"You're the critter, eh?" shouted one of the policemen. "Trying to blow up our town!"

"They were only atom crackers," Chet pleaded.

The officer did not seem to hear. He grabbed Chet by the arm and marched him into the station house. The other two policemen followed in step, which gave the boy the feeling that he was being ushered to the gallows.

"But I didn't mean to do anything," he said with outstretched hands.

"Tell that to the chief."

The officers led the boy before the chief, whose desk was perched on a dais at the end of the room.

"This boy is responsible for that bombardment!" the policeman bellowed.

The chief, a stout man with three distinct chins, leaned forward and looked over his horn-rimmed glasses.

"I'm going to throw you in jail!" he shouted.