Free Hunting for Hidden Gold by Franklin W. Dixon

continued, “I’ll really get a kick out o’ payin’ off those brats. Big Al was plenty sore at me ’cause that shotgun setup in the copter didn’t work out.”
    â€œâ€™Twasn’t your fault, Slim.”
    â€œTry tellin’ that to Al. He was mad over Slip Gun not gettin’ the kids last night. Now he blames me for wastin’ time this mornin’”
    â€œHow come?”
    â€œAw, that special business he keeps harpin’ on —it’s all he thinks about. He wanted us to do some searchin’ elsewhere today, but the Hardys comin’ here changed his plans.”
    There was silence for a while. Frank and Joe waited tensely, digesting what they had overheard. Then Slim spoke again.
    â€œWonder how much longer we'll have to wait? I’m gettin’ fed up, perchin’ here in this cold.”
    â€œMaybe the kids can’t find their way out,” his partner suggested. “If they ain’t dead already, that is.”
    â€œYou sure the tunnel caved in, Jake?”
    â€œSure. Sounded like an earthquake. I could see the dust comin’ out the front end.”
    â€œDid you make certain the tunnel was completely blocked?” Slim asked.
    â€œWell, I didn’t actually go inside and look. I might’ve got trapped. Besides, they didn’t show up!”
    â€œYou chowderhead!” Slim exploded irritably. “If it ain’t blocked, the kids may still be able to squirm out. Go on back and make sure.”
    â€œOkay, okay.” Jake sounded as if he were getting to his feet.
    â€œWait! Got another idea. You fetch their horses and bring ’em back here before you check the tunnel,” Slim added. “That way, there’ll be no chance o’ the Hardys pullin’ a sneak.”
    After warning Joe to silence, Frank wriggled forward and peered out through the screen of brush. In the distance he could see Jake’s stocky figure heading down the snow-covered mountainside on his way to the mine entrance.
    Frank was astonished at how far Jake had gone in a few seconds. Since the two men had conversed in low voices, the speakers had sounded as if they were fairly close to the clump of brush. Now Frank realized his mistake.
    The opening was on one side of a narrow draw. Slim was evidently perched out of sight, somewhere higher up the mountainside—probably holding a rifle to cover the boys.
    The two men must have thought their conversation was inaudible to anyone else, but the steep-sided draw had caused an echo effect, trapping their voices and reflecting the sound back toward the tunnel.
    Frank signaled his brother to crawl forward and join him. Stealthily Joe complied. Several minutes later Jake returned, leading the boys’ horses. Slim came down the slope to meet him.
    â€œNo sign of ’em,” the Hardys heard Jake report.
    â€œCheck inside the tunnel,” Slim told his partner. “If they didn’t get buried by the cave-in, we’re supposed to take’em up to Windy Peak.”
    The thugs exchanged one or two other remarks, but their conversation was carried away by a surge of icy wind sweeping down the draw.
    Jake turned and started off again, heading back to the mine entrance. Slim threw a glance toward the clump of brush to make sure their quarry had not yet emerged. Then he took the boys’ horses and trudged toward a stunted, leafless tree growing out of the mountainside.
    â€œLet’s jump him!” Joe urged.
    Frank had noticed that the man wore a long barreled revolver in a holster slung at his hip. If he had a rifle, he must have left it at the spot where he and Jake had been waiting.
    â€œIt’s risky, but we’ll try,” Frank agreed.
    The moaning of the wind would help cover the sound of their footsteps in the snow, and Slim’s back was turned as he prepared to tether the horses to the tree. Jake was already out of sight behind a shoulder of the