The Clue of the Screeching Owl Read Free

into the clearing again. Striding to the rim of the hollow, Frank cupped his hands and shouted:
    â€œCap-tain Maguire! Cap-tain Ma-guire!”
    The boys strained to listen, but no answering sound came up from the dark hollow, not even an echo.
    â€œWe’ll have to look for him,” determined Frank. “He may be nearby, injured. I’ll take the woods on this side of the cabin. Joe, you and Chet comb the other side. Keep calling for him while you search!”
    Accordingly, Joe and Chet plunged into the woods together. The big trees which blocked the twilight choked much of the undergrowth, making the going easy. Gradually they ceased to hear Frank’s calls. The shadow under the trees deepened to dusky gloom. In another half hour it would be dark.
    â€œIt’s almost night,” observed Chet. “My stomach tells me it’s long after suppertime and we aren’t getting anywhere here. Let’s go back!”
    When they reached the clearing again, Joe called his brother. No answer came.
    â€œOh-h,” moaned Chet in despair. “First no Captain Maguire. Now Frank’s gone too.”
    â€œHush!” Joe stopped him. “What’s that?”
    By now it was almost fully dark in the clearing. From the woods came a crackling sound of something moving.
    â€œJoe? Chet?” came a familiar voice that caused Chet to sigh with relief. In a moment Frank had rejoined them.
    â€œNo sign of the captain,” he reported briefly. “I did find a trail down into the hollow, though, and went along it a good way. That’s what took so long. But I didn’t see any trace of him there, either.”
    â€œIt’s a real mystery,” agreed Joe, shaking his head. “But we’ve solved a few tough ones before —like the Mystery of the Desert Giant. Let’s get our gear inside. We can’t do anything more out here.”
    Soon the delicious aroma of frying ham and baked beans filled the tiny cabin. While Chet Morton tucked away a few extra helpings of each, Frank and Joe sat with him at the kitchen table and discussed the Maguire situation.
    â€œThe door wasn’t locked and his car is in the yard,” mused Frank. “That leaves a couple of possibilities.”
    â€œYes. Either somebody else drove him, or he walked,” Joe deduced. “Now why would he walk? Perhaps because he was going somewhere his car couldn’t go.”
    â€œInto the hollow!” Frank exclaimed. “I was thinking that myself.”
    At this moment Chet Morton finished his supper. “Look, fellows,” he volunteered, “I know how absorbed you two get in mysteries, so I’ll wash the dishes while you look for clues, but on one condition.”
    â€œWhat’s that, Chet?”
    â€œYou two get me some firewood for the stove.”
    â€œIt’s a deal!” The brothers laughed, and went outdoors to the captain’s woodpile. They soon returned with armloads of kindling.
    While Chet worked the hand pump to get some water, the two young detectives started their search for clues.
    â€œHere’s something,” called Joe from the living room. “I believe there’s a shotgun or rifle missing from the captain’s gunrack! It has one empty space.”
    Frank had found something he thought was even more significant in the drawer of the kitchen table.
    â€œCome here, Joe,” he urged. The blond-haired boy found his brother poring over an ordinary kitchen calendar showing the dates for the previous two months.
    â€œOn certain days,” Frank explained, “Captain Maguire has written the name of a breed of dog, and the name of an owner. See this one for June 10. ‘Border terrier. J. Brewer, owner.’ ”
    â€œYou’re right,” admitted Joe, taking up the calendar. “But wait! On some dates there’s another notation, ‘She screamed.’ ”
    â€œScreamed!” repeated Chet, who was