Free The Wailing Siren Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon

patience bore fruit.
    â€œHammering?” Joe asked as his brother’s face lighted up.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThe wailing siren?”
    Frank shook his head. “An animal.”
    Joe listened. “Maybe it’s the wolf that attacked me,” he said.
    â€œIf he belongs to that fake salesman, now’s our chance to find that crook!” Frank declared.
    Hunting knives in hand to assist in any unexpected attack, the boys started off in the direction of the howling, which now could be heard without the aid of the detector.
    â€œThat’s more than one animal,” Frank said.
    The Hardys proceeded more slowly. Suddenly a clearing opened up ahead. In the middle of it the boys saw a six-foot-high wire enclosure. Behind the netting five animals growled fiercely.
    â€œWolves!” Joe exclaimed.
    â€œSure looks that way,” Frank answered.
    â€œWhat are they doing here?”
    â€œWe’ll find out.”
    Careful to keep themselves concealed, the boys circled the enclosure. The wolves smelled their presence, however, and started to howl.
    â€œI hope they haven’t given us away,” Joe whispered. “Their keeper must be nearby.”
    The boys looked about them. Partly hidden among the trees some distance to their left was a cabin, its front door open.
    Frank and Joe approached it cautiously. Nobody was in sight.
    â€œSomeone may be spying on us from a window,” Joe whispered.
    He and Frank waited a few minutes before approaching closer to the cabin. Nothing seemed to be stirring.
    â€œI’m going to take a look,” Joe said.
    â€œI’m with you.”
    They stepped quietly through the brush and into a small open space in front of the cabin. There was an ominous silence about the place.
    Anxiety showed on Frank’s face. “Joe, I don’t like ...”
    His words were punctured by a snarl which froze the boys in their tracks. The head of a wolf flashed in the doorway. With a vicious growl, it sprang toward the Hardys.
    â€œThe same one that attacked me!” thought Joe, poising his knife.
    The beast let out a piercing whine and jerked back. Then the boys saw that he was chained to the door. The frustrated animal continued to bellow and glower, straining at his leash.
    A sharp voice cut the air. “Stand where you are!”
    Frank and Joe wheeled. A tall man, his hat pulled low, stood before them, a gun in his hand.

CHAPTER XII
    A Strange Pet
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    THE man was a giant of a woodsman. His face was heavily bearded and his eyes fiercely sharp. Besides the gun, he carried a long whip.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” he demanded.
    â€œOh—uh—just looking around,” Frank replied, trying to look innocent. “I’m afraid we’re lost.”
    The man eyed the boys sharply, as if he doubted this statement.
    â€œYou’re trespassing on private property,” he said sternly.
    â€œPrivate?” Joe asked.
    â€œYes. I breed wolves here. This is a dangerous area.”
    All the while the animal chained to the door growled and pulled at his leash.
    â€œQuiet, Saber!” the man shouted.
    He flicked his whip and the end of it snapped like a rifle shot a scant two inches from the wolfs jaws. The animal retreated and threw itself down across the doorway.
    â€œWhy do you keep wolves here?” Joe asked.
    â€œI breed them for zoos. And now I want to give you kids some good advice,” he snapped. “Leave this forest pronto and don’t come back! Do you hear me? Don’t come back!”
    Frank was not ready to go quite yet. This man might know some things the Hardys wanted to find out.
    â€œDo you take care of these animals all alone?” he asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œOh, by the way, we found a valuable rod and reel near our camp down near the river. Do you know who may have left it there?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDid a plane crash around here recently?” Joe