Free The Haunted Fort by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

limousine and pulled out into the road above Millwood.
    It was late afternoon by the time they reached the fort. There had been no trace of the phony detour sign. Frank parked, and they unlocked the gate, then climbed the hill toward the ramparts. Pausing on the glacis, the boys looked at the map, then at the tracing showing the locations of figures in the pictures.
    The actual shape of Senandaga was that of a square with diamond-shaped bastions at the corners of its four ramparts.
    Frank pointed to a high, wedge-shaped defensive stonework which stood in front of the ditch. “That must be the demilune—the south one. There’s another to the west.”
    They decided to begin their hunt by checking outside the fort walls and ditch. First, the Hardys walked north along the zigzagging ditch, then to the spot where the wall had fallen. They stopped to examine the rubble.
    â€œHey!” Joe yelled, pushing aside a rock. Underneath lay a round black object. “An old cannon ball!”
    The Hardys wondered: Had it been hurled against the ancient wall to cause the collapse? They surveyed the crenelated walls of blocked stone. Although its soldiers and cannon were long gone, a forbidding, ominous silence seemed to make itself felt around the bastion.
    As Frank’s eyes passed over the crumbled roofs visible above the walls, he stopped suddenly. “Joe, look!”
    Waving atop a flagpole on the southeast ramPart was a white and gold flag!
    â€œIt’s the flag used by the French before their revolution!” Frank exclaimed, recognizing the pattern of three white lilies. “But it wasn’t here the first time we came.”
    â€œOne thing is sure—it’s no relic,” Joe said. “Mr. Davenport didn’t mention anything about a flag.”
    They stared at the mysterious banner, recalling the drumbeats they had heard earlier. Who had placed the old French colors over the fort?
    Hastily the Hardys continued along the ditch to an area which they had marked on their tracing sheet. They hoped to find some kind of marking or rock formation at the same spots the figures stood in the paintings.
    â€œOver here, a little more to the right,” Joe said, comparing the map and sheet. Frank noticed that freshly churned-up soil surrounded their feet.
    â€œJoe! Somebody’s been digging!”
    â€œYou’re right!” Joe reached down and felt the earth.
    â€œIf the treasure was here,” Frank reasoned, “we’re out of luck.”
    They walked toward the west demilune. But halfway, Joe noticed a pillar of black smoke in the sky. It came from beyond a shadowed promontory to the north of the lake.
    â€œFrank, that looks like a fire!”
    â€œIt is. I wonder—Joel It’s coming from Millwood!”

CHAPTER XI
    The Lake Monster
    â€œWE’VE got to get back!” Frank urged.
    The brothers raced down the slope to the parked car and soon were streaking around the lake road leading to Millwood. The column of black smoke swirled higher and they heard sirens.
    Reaching the school, Frank wheeled the limousine to the parking area and they jumped out.
    â€œIt’s the boathouse!” Joe exclaimed.
    Waves of intense heat rolled out from the flaming structure. The Hardys ran toward the lakeside, where a crowd watched the firemen fighting the holocaust.
    The dock was already lost, and what had been canoes were smoking shells on the bank. Voices echoed as spumes of water played against the blazing boathouse. Suddenly Frank detected a strong oily smell in the air.
    â€œKerosene!” he said. “This fire must have been set!”
    The Hardys spotted Uncle Jim and Chet among the spectators back of a cordoned area near a police car. Chet was glad to see his pals.
    â€œWas anybody hurt?” Frank asked, worried.
    â€œFortunately, no,” Mr. Kenyon replied. “But our boat area is a complete ruin.”
    In an hour the fire had been extinguished.