Free Hunting for Hidden Gold by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

hill.
    â€œIt’s now or never!” Frank hissed.
    Slithering from the hole and past the screen of brush, the boys darted across the slope. They were halfway to the man when one of the horses suddenly detected the boys and whinnied.
    Slim muttered an oath and jerked the horse roughly by its bridle. He seemed to realize that something behind him had startled the animal.
    The man whirled, his hand streaking toward the gun at his hip. At the same moment, Frank hurled himself through the air in a flying tackle. Just as Slim yanked his gun from its holster, Frank rammed into him!
    In an instant Joe had joined the fray. He stunned. Slim with a backhand smash to the side of the head. As the thug went limp, his revolver arced into the air and went hurtling down the mountainside.
    â€œCome on! Grab your horse!” Joe urged. “We’ve got to get out of here before Jake finds out what happened and starts firing at us.”
    The boys quickly untied their mounts and swung into the saddles. The horses whinnied, then went galloping down the draw as Frank and Joe dug their heels into the horses’ flanks.
    Frank threw a glance over his shoulder just in time to see Slim staggering to his feet. The man’s face was livid with fury.
    â€œJake!” he bawled at the top of his lungs. “The Hardy kids are gettin’ away!”
    His voice trailed off and was lost against the wind. Moments later a rifle crack echoed, but by now the boys were well out of range.
    â€œDid you spot the men’s horses?” Joe called.
    â€œUp the mountainside, I think,” Frank yelled back. “We’d better not count on a big lead!”
    The boys pushed their mounts hard, taking desperate chances along the rocky declivities. No sounds of pursuit reached their ears, and gradually Frank and Joe slowed their pace.
    In about twenty minutes they topped the ridge overlooking Lucky Lode and rode down the trail into town. As their horses clip-clopped along the main street toward Hank’s cabin, Frank asked, “Did you hear what that fellow Slim said about taking us to Windy Peak?”
    â€œI sure did,” Joe returned. “It could mean that’s Al’s hideout. Let’s search there.”
    Frank nodded. “It’ll be an overnight trip. We’ll need supplies.”
    The boys were surprised to find a battered blue station wagon parked in front of their cabin.
    â€œDoc Whitlow’s here,” Hank explained when they went inside. “He’s in with your pa now.”
    â€œIs Dad worse?” Frank asked, concerned.
    â€œNot exactly, but he spent a kind o’ restless night. And this mornin’ he felt like he was runnin’ a slight fever. So I fetched the doc.”
    Minutes later the physician, a young man with a brown beard, emerged from Mr. Hardy’s room.
    â€œNothing to worry about,” Doc Whitlow announced. “Apparently your father overexerted himself yesterday and irritated the fracture.”
    â€œHe shouldn’t have worked on the wall,” Frank said.
    â€œI gave him something to ease the pain,” the doctor said. “He’s sleeping now.”
    Doc Whitlow declined Hank’s offer of lunch, saying he had to get back to his office in the nearby town of Bear Creek. After he had left, Hank prepared a meal of beans and frankfurters and sat down to eat with Frank and Joe.
    â€œYou boys just missed seein’ Bob Dodge,” he remarked.
    â€œWhen was he here?” Joe asked.
    â€œJust a while ’fore you two showed up. Say—you boys look like you been through the mill. What happened?”
    The Hardys related all that had taken place the night before, as well as the entrapment at Brady’s Mine and their narrow escape from the two gang members, Slim and Jake. Hank, too, was puzzled by the Shadow of the Bear reference. The boys asked him to pass on a full report to their father.
    â€œYou mean you won’t be around to