The Short-Wave Mystery Read Free

State Police should be notified,” he said.
    Over the convertible’s short-wave the boys transmitted an alarm to State Police headquarters. Then they stopped at the nearest gas station to phone a report of the deer accident to the local game warden, a friend of the Hardys.
    By the time they returned to the Batter estate, the auction was over and most of the crowd had left. Chet was waiting patiently at the parking area, perched in his high-sprung yellow jalopy, the Queen, near a Bayport police car. In the Queen’s back seat, with the aardvark and taxidermy kit, stood a black bear cub.
    â€œWhat happened?” The chubby youth hopped out anxiously from behind the wheel. “Did you catch those thieves?”
    Frank shook his head. “No, but we got their license number.”
    â€œDon’t tell us you added another prize to your collection!” Joe said, grinning at the bear cub.
    â€œSure, that was my first buy—before you two got here,” Chet said proudly. “It was a bigger bargain than the aardvark!”
    â€œIt’s big enough, all right. Where do you plan to keep this stuffed zoo of yours?”
    Chet gave a slight cough. “Well, er, as a matter of fact that’s why I—”
    â€œHold it!” Frank said. “That squad-car officer just motioned to us, Joe.”
    The policeman who had beckoned was conferring with the tall, dapperly dressed auctioneer and a smaller, gray-haired man near the garage-stable while another officer took notes.
    The Hardys hurried over, bringing the broken antenna, and reported their fruitless chase. “Here’s the license number,” Joe added, handing over the scrap of paper. “We’ve already alerted the highway patrol.”
    â€œGood work, boys,” the policeman said. “This antenna may help us get a line on the thieves.”
    â€œWe suspect it’s a handmade job,” Frank said. “By the way, what did they take?”
    â€œNot much, luckily,” the auctioneer replied. “Just nine stuffed animals.”
    â€œThat’s the queerest haul I ever heard of,” Joe put in. “Why in the world would the thieves want them?”
    The auctioneer gave a puzzled laugh. “Good question. They certainly weren’t worth a lot. The bids on all nine didn’t amount to more than a hundred dollars.”
    He explained that after being auctioned off, each item had been taken to the garage, to be claimed later by the high bidder. It was there that the gray-haired clerk had been held up.
    Apparently the two thieves had arrived at the auction late, when the nine animals had already been sold but not yet picked up. The men had first offered to pay the clerk more than the amounts bid. When he refused, they had seized the animals at gunpoint and fled.
    â€œToo bad. I hope they’re caught,” Joe said.
    As the Hardys walked back to Chet, Frank said thoughtfully, “You know, Joe, this robbery has the makings of a real mystery. There must be some reason for pulling such a crazy holdup.”
    Joe nodded. “Unless we were chasing a couple of nuts!”
    Chet was struck with a sudden idea when he heard about the deer. “Gee, good study specimens are hard for us taxidermists to come by,” he said. “I wonder if the game warden would let me have the head for mounting.”
    â€œProbably.” Frank climbed into the Hardys’ convertible. “We’ll call him when we get home.”
    â€œGreat! But—er—what’s the hurry? Wouldn’t you guys like some lunch?”
    â€œThat’s where we’re going—home to eat.”
    â€œCome on to the Hot Rocket,” Chet said, “and I’ll stand treat for hamburgers and malts.”
    Joe looked at his brother in surprise and burst out laughing. “Wow! We don’t get an offer like that every day! It’s a deal, pal!”
    Later, as they were finishing lunch at their high