Free The Haunted Fort by Franklin W. Dixon

now is search the fort itself for the chain. If there is one!”
    â€œWe also have the job of tracking down the thieves and stolen pictures,” Frank said. “By the way, Everett told us he hadn’t been off the island for a month. But his rowboat was wet and muddy—and it hasn’t rained for days!”
    Joe remembered seeing oars in the boat also. Was the recluse lying? Did he know anything about the Millwood thefts?
    â€œWell,” Joe quipped, “we could always take a new case: Who were the last holders of Fort Senandaga—I mean, Fort Royal!”
    â€œOr Fort du Lac!” Frank smiled, shifting his paddle to the right.
    Smoothly, the brothers stroked forward. They were halfway to shore when Joe first noticed water around his feet.
    â€œFrank! We’re taking in water!”
    Ceasing to paddle, Joe slid back carefully to locate the leak. “I can’t find it!” he cried out.
    Frank quickly pulled in his paddle and crept forward. But he had no sooner taken a step than he heard a cracking noise.
    â€œJoe—this wood—”
    With a splintering noise, the section of flooring beneath Frank’s left foot gave way, entrapping his leg. Water poured in as the sinking canoe capsized.
    The lake surface closed over the Hardys!

CHAPTER X
    Mysterious Flag
    COLD stinging water coursed through Joe’s mouth and nose as he sank beneath the surface. He could see the shadow of the capsized canoe above.
    Shooting up for air, he immediately plunged beneath again.
    With a mighty yank he freed Frank’s leg from the hull, and both boys were soon hugging the splintered boat.
    â€œAre—are you all right?” Joe gasped.
    Frank coughed for several moments before answering. “Yes, except my leg’s a bit sore. I don’t get it, Joe. This canoe is practically new.”
    As the Hardys signaled an approaching motorboat, Joe noticed something on the canoe’s hull. “Frank, look!”
    Joe pointed to a wide crusted hole where Frank’s leg had gone through, then noticed several smaller holes edged with a painted paste.
    â€œThis canoe was sabotaged!” he panted, tread ing water. “Somebody must have cut these holes, then used a sealer and paint! Whoever did it knew that it would just be a matter of time before water—or we—went through.”
    The motorboat, manned by a man and his wife, pulled abreast of the stranded sleuths and helped them aboard. With the canoe in tow, they were soon on their way back to Millwood. Frank pulled wet book from the pocket of his slacks.
    The True Story of Fort Royal was soaked but safe!
    At the school dock the Hardys thanked their rescuers and hurried across the grass. Several students eyed the water-soaked boys curiously. Chet and his uncle spotted them and came rushing up. The two were mystified and worried upon hearing of the boat incident.
    â€œSomebody must have been hoping you’d use my canoe,” the instructor said grimly.
    â€œYou mean the trap was intended for Frank and Joe,” Chet finished. “And maybe me too. No place is safe around here!”
    As the Hardys changed into dry clothes they told of their visit to Lloyd Everett. Uncle Jim grinned. “He takes that battle as seriously as René Follette and Mr. Davenport.”
    â€œAnd how!” Frank looked thoughtful. “He’s friendly enough-doesn’t look or act much like a hermit.”
    During a late lunch the three boys and Uncle Jim discussed possible suspects in the canoe episode. Ronnie Rush? The short thief? The gallery prowler?
    Joe noticed that Chet was staring into space and said, “You decided what your picture’s about?”
    Chet grinned good-naturedly. “Okay, mind reader, I have. But you’ll have to wait and see.”
    â€œIs your entry a still life, Chet?” Frank asked.
    â€œYes. A moving still life!”
    The others groaned at the pun.
    They were just leaving the