Hunting for hidden gold

"A fortune in hidden gold! That certainly sounds mighty interesting."

Frank Hardy folded up the letter he had just been reading aloud to his brother.

"Dad has all the luck," replied Joe. "I'd give anything to be working with him on a case like that."

"Me, too. This case is a bit out of the ordinary."

"Where was the letter postmarked?"

"Somewhere in Montana. A gold-mining camp called Lucky Bottom."

"Montana! Gee, but I wish he could have taken us with him. We've never been more than two hundred miles from home."

"And I've never seen a mine in my life, much less a real mining camp."

The Hardy boys looked at one another regretfully. They had just received a letter from their father, Fenton Hardy, an internationally famous detective, who had been called West but a fortnight previous on a mysterious mission. The letter gave the boys their first inkling of the nature of the case that had summoned their father from Bayport, on the Atlantic coast, to the mining country of Montana.

"A fortune in hidden gold," repeated Frank. "I hope he finds it all right."

"It was stolen from one of the big companies, wasn't it?"

"Yes. He says that an entire shipment of bullion was stolen before it left the camp, so they believe it must have been hidden somewhere in the neighborhood."

"And his job is to find it."

"If he can. And the thieves as well."

Joe sighed. "I sure would like to be out there right now. We might be able to help him."

"Well, we've helped him in other cases, but I guess we're out of luck this time. Montana is too far away."

"Yes, and we have to keep on going to school. I'll be glad when we're through school and can be regular detectives like dad."

Frank grinned. "No use grouching about it," he said cheerfully. "Our time will come some day."

"Yes, but it seems a long time coming," replied Joe, smiling ruefully.

"Oh, in a few more years we'll be going all over the country just like dad, solving robberies and murders and having all sorts of excitement. We haven't done too badly so far, anyway."

"Yes, we had the fun of discovering the tower treasure."

"And running down the counterfeiters."

"Yes; and solving the mystery of the house on the cliff and finding out about Blacksnake Island."

The boys were referring to previous cases in which they had been involved and in which their ability had been proved. But it had been several months since any adventure or excitement had come their way and they were feeling restless, the more so now that they knew their father was at that moment in the remote mining camp in the West engaged on a mystery that seized their imagination.

"Hidden gold!" said Joe, half to himself. "That would be a case worth working on."

"Forget it," laughed his brother. "There's no use making yourself miserable wishing we were out there, because we're not and it doesn't look as if there's much chance that we shall be. Perhaps his old case isn't so exciting, anyway. You're not going to spend all Saturday wishing for something you can't have. Don't forget we're to go out with Chet and Jerry this afternoon."

"That's right," declared Joe. "I'd almost forgotten. We were to go skating, weren't we?"

"Yes; and it's about time we started or the others will be going without us."

This possibility moved Joe to action and in a few moments the Hardy boys had dismissed their father's letter from their minds and were rummaging in a cupboard beneath the stairs for their skates. They had planned to meet their chums at the mouth of Willow River, a stream that ran from the mountains down through the farm lands to Barmet Bay, on which Bayport was located. It was a brisk, clear winter afternoon, ideal for an outing, and their Saturday holiday from Bayport high school was much too precious to be spent indoors.

Their Aunt Gertrude, an elderly, crotchety maiden lady of certain temper and uncertain years, eyed them suspiciously as they came into the hallway with their skates and began donning sweaters and warm gloves.

"Skating, hey?" she sniffed. "You'll go through the ice, I'll be bound."

The boys knew from experience that it was always best to placate Aunt Gertrude.

"We'll try not to, Aunt Gertrude," Frank assured her.

"You'll try not to! A lot of good that will do. If the ice isn't strong, all the trying in the world won't keep you from going through it. And the ice isn't strong. I'm sure it isn't. It can't be."

"The fellows have been skating on Willow River for more than a week now."

"Maybe so. Maybe so. They've been lucky, that's all I can say. You mark my words, that ice will break one of these fine days. I only hope you boys aren't on it when it does."

"I hope so too," laughed Frank, drawing on his gloves.

"It's no laughing matter," persisted Aunt Gertrude gloomily. "Well, I suppose if you will court death and destruction, an old lady like me can't do anything to stop you. Although you'd be better off at home studying. Run along. Run along."

"Good-bye, Aunt Gertrude."

"Run along. Be home early. Don't skate too far out. Don't get lost. Don't get caught in a snowstorm. I'm sure there's one coming up. I know the signs. My lumbago is troubling me again to-day. Don't forget to come back in time for tea."