Free The Secret of Wildcat Swamp by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

happened to those wildcatters, and when.”
    â€œI’ve been mulling that over myself,” said Cap, “and I’ve about decided that it couldn’t have been too long ago.”
    â€œI think you’re right,” said Frank.
    â€œWell, I feel we can be certain,” Cap said, “that there still may be a few men living who learned about the possibility of oil below the swamp from some of those wildcatters. That’s why they’re trying to run us out of here.”
    Frank remarked that a certain George Moffet seemed to fit right into this theory. No doubt he was trying to get Mrs. Sanderson’s property.
    â€œIs there any way of telling where there might be oil except by drilling?” Chet asked Cap.
    â€œYes, indeed,” the teacher replied. “In certain periods in prehistoric times far more oil deposits were formed than in others. If I could locate some fossils from one of those periods, I’d know we’ve made the right guess about the situation here. Incidentally, every big oil company today employs a paleontologist for this kind of exploration.”
    â€œIf we’re going to do any more digging,” Chet spoke up, “we’ll have to buy some more tools.”
    â€œJoe and I might get them in Red Butte after we see Dad,” Frank suggested. “Tomorrow night we plan to meet him at Spur Gulch, Cap,” the boy added, and told him about Chet’s message.
    Bailey volunteered that he and Chet buy the tools. They would stop at the Sanderson ranch and tell Harry and his mother their suspicions.
    Next morning, an hour after sunup, Frank and Joe set off in an easterly direction, while the others went northwest.
    â€œI’d like to look around that cave once more before we leave,” Cap said when they reached the ledge. “Besides examining those pipes again, we may find other clues to prove we’re on the trail of the old wildcatters or of some new ones.”
    Chet was reluctant, but on the other hand, he didn’t want the teacher to think he lacked courage.
    â€œOkay, Cap. Lead the way!”
    When they reached the narrow opening in the rocks, Chet glibly offered to remain at the cave entrance to “guard the horses.” Cap grinned as he dismounted.
    â€œIf there’s trouble,” the teacher said, “we’re better off together than split up.”
    â€œYou’ve talked me into it,” Chet replied solemnly.
    Flashlight in hand, Cap stalked ahead of him down the incline to the cave entrance below the ledge. At the end of the passage, where it broadened out into the wider portion of the cave, Bailey’s light flickered.
    â€œBattery’s getting low,” he muttered to himself.
    As Chet beamed his own light around, Cap entered the inner part of the cave. Stepping past the skeleton, barely discernible in the dim light, the teacher bent to pick up a rusted section of pipe. As he did, a faint sound in a recess of the rock wall made him straighten up.
    â€œThat you, Chet?”
    â€œWhat did you say?” Chet boomed from the passageway.
    In sudden alarm Bailey swung his fading flashlight toward the wall. It picked up a dark figure crouching in the gloom.
    â€œDon’t move!” came a whispered command.
    At the same moment, an arm snaked around his chest like a hoop of iron, pinioning his arms to his sides. With a clatter, Cap’s flashlight dropped to the rock floor.
    â€œChet!” he gasped. “Get help! Hurry!”
    â€œShut up!” his attacker hissed.
    The arm tightened its grip, choking off any further warning. As Cap struggled, another man rapped him sharply on the side of the head with the butt end of his gun. The science teacher crumpled to the floor.
    â€œThat’ll take care of him for a while!” the gruff voice muttered in the darkness. “Now let’s get the other one.”
    But Chet, having heard Cap’s desperate plea for help, had made his