The Ghost at Skeleton Rock Read Free

baldheaded man in Bermuda shorts lounged in a deck chair. A moment later a woman came out, carrying a baby.
    Frank smiled to hide his disappointment. “Okay. So our long shot didn’t pay off.”
    â€œNow what?”
    Frank considered. “Once Hugo hits the cross-road, there’s no telling which way he’ll head. Guess we better notify the police.”
    Across the highway from the trailer court was a roadside store with a gasoline pump. The boys hurried over and put through a call to Chief Collig on the store’s pay phone.
    â€œI’ll send out a radio alert,” the officer promised, after hearing Frank’s story. “Maybe the highway patrol can pick those men up before they cross the state line.”
    â€œThanks, Chief! We’ll keep in touch,” said Frank.
    Somewhat dejectedly, the boys plodded back to their convertible. “What a wild-goose chase!” Frank groaned.
    On the way back to Bayport, Joe brightened suddenly as a thought struck him. “Maybe we could spot Hugo’s trailer from the air. That bright-orange trailer ought to stand out on any road!”
    Frank agreed. “We can ask Jack Wayne to take us up,” he said.
    When they reached home, Frank parked the convertible in the driveway and the boys hurried into the house. Before they were halfway through the kitchen, the telephone rang.
    â€œMaybe it’s Chief Collig with some news!” Joe exclaimed. He reached the hall first and scooped up the phone. “Hello.”
    â€œThis is Chet, Joe,” came a breathless voice over the wire. “Something’s up! I need help right away—over at my place.”
    Chet Morton, a chubby pal of the Hardys, attended Bayport High with them. Good-natured and fond of eating, he was usually slow moving and easy going. But now his voice throbbed with fearful urgency.
    â€œChet! What’s this all about?” Joe demanded.
    â€œI can’t explain over the phone, but get here fast,” his friend pleaded. “This is important!”
    â€œOkay. We’ll be there pronto.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Frank asked as Joe hung up.
    â€œSearch me. Chet seems to be all worked up. Sounds as if he’s in real trouble. He wants us to come out to the farm on the double.”
    â€œAll right. But first let me call Jack Wayne.”
    Snatching up the phone, Frank dialed Jack’s cubbyhole office at the airport. When the pilot answered, Frank gave him a quick account of their adventures with Hugo and Abdul. Jack was thunderstruck to learn that the brothers were already on the trail of “Hugo purple turban.”
    â€œJoe and I figure,” Frank went on, “that the quickest way to spot the trailer is from the air. Could you go up and reconnoiter a bit?”
    â€œSure,” Jack replied.
    Frank described the hardtop coupé and orange trailer, then hung up and hurried out to the car with Joe. Twenty minutes later they reached the Morton farmhouse on the outskirts of Bayport.
    The boys ran up to the front door and rang the bell. Two pretty girls answered the door. One was Chet’s dark-haired sister, Iola. The other, a blonde with sparkling brown eyes, was her chum, Callie Shaw. The two girls often double-dated Frank and Joe.
    â€œWell! Imagine meeting you two here!” said Iola in pleased surprise.
    â€œYou’re just in time,” Callie said. She held up a puppet dressed like Little Red Ridinghood. “We were just practicing for a puppet show we’re going to give at the hospital bazaar. You two can help us—”
    â€œWhere’s Chet?” Joe interrupted.
    â€œWhy, out in the barn,” said Iola. “But—”
    â€œCome on, Frank!”
    Without waiting to explain, Frank and Joe rushed outside and headed around the side of the barn to the rear. Voices became more audible at every step. Suddenly both boys pulled up short and stared at each other in