Free The Clue of the Screeching Owl by Franklin W. Dixon

trembling little beagle came leaping frantically and joyfully to his master.
    â€œGet that piece of clothesline on Mystery’s collar,” Frank directed. “We’ll tie Simon’s hands for safety, until we get him back to the cabin.”

    Slowly the three friends and their captive made their way up out of the hollow. Frank and Joe supported the limping mute boy on either side as they climbed the steep trail. Simon made no further attempt to escape.

    By the time the drenched boys reached the cabin the rain had stopped and a fresh wind was clearing away the storm clouds.
    â€œMission accomplished,” Chet declared delightedly.
    â€œNow for something to eat, and then a nice, dry bed. What d’you say, Mystery?”
    After changing his clothes Chet went immediately to the kitchen. In a few moments he had a big pot of soup heating on the stove, then made ham sandwiches for everyone.
    Meanwhile, Frank and Joe had untied their prisoner, told him to remove his wet clothing, and given him a warm bathrobe of Captain Maguire’s to put on.
    In the brightly lighted cabin, Frank and Joe had their first chance for a close look at Simon.
    He was about fourteen, but extremely tall for his age and wiry in build. He had dark, tangled hair that had not been cut in some time.
    â€œThat’s what makes him appear wild,” Frank thought.
    As Simon sat disconsolately, Frank examined a deep, ugly cut on the boy’s leg. “No wonder he was limping. Get the first-aid kit, Joe.”
    Though Simon watched them all suspiciously, he seemed frightened rather than savage. Both Hardys were struck by the gentle look in the boy’s face. When Joe returned with the first-aid kit he submitted meekly while his wound was washed and dressed. Joe applied a stinging antiseptic, but Simon barely winced with pain.
    â€œDon’t worry, Simon, you’ll live,” said Joe in a friendly voice as he straightened up. “And what a basketball player you’d make with your height!”
    Bewildered, the boy continued to watch the Hardys closely, as though fearing some harm.
    â€œHere we are, Simon,” Chet Morton called cheerily as he entered with the soup and sandwiches.
    Simon ate greedily. Chet winked at Frank and Joe, then went to make more sandwiches and bring in some doughnuts. They were soon gone.
    Chet grinned. “I’m glad to see that somebody besides me has a healthy appetite.”
    While Chet and Simon were finishing the food, Frank and Joe moved out to the kitchen.
    In a low voice Joe said, “Simon doesn’t look so fierce to me. I’m certain he’s not the person we saw spying on us in the hollow yesterday. Simon’s tall, and has long legs, but his face sure isn’t the same one we saw.”
    Frank nodded agreement. “It was Donner who told us the person was probably Simon.”
    The boys were puzzled, but had no chance to talk further, as Chet and Simon came into the kitchen.
    Chet began to play with Mystery. “Poor little pup,” he said fondly. “Old Chet won’t forget to feed you, too. No, sir. He’ll do it right now.”
    He opened a can of puppy food, dumped it into a bowl, and set it on the floor. The little dog attacked it happily.
    Simon, meanwhile, had put on his clothes, now dry from the heat of the stove. He watched Chet intently, then gave a shy, approving smile.
    â€œSay,” the stout boy muttered as he poked into a cupboard, “here’s some dog food. Captain Maguire must have had a dog. Wonder if he went with him?”
    Frank had noticed the mute boy’s smile. “Simon likes the way Chet treats dogs,” he thought. “Now’s our chance to find out why he stole Mystery! But how can he answer us?” he asked himself, baffled. “He can’t talk!”
    Suddenly Frank had an idea. He went back to the living room and returned with a pad of paper and a pencil which he placed on the kitchen