The Viking Symbol Mystery Read Free Page A

to carry ’em out.”
    Both boys thanked Mr. Hardy for the chance to work on a case and said good-by.
    â€œMaybe we’ll all get together on these two mysteries,” Joe said to his brother as Biff’s car pulled away.
    â€œCould be,” Frank replied, “but in the meantime let’s look for Kelly’s discarded clothing. He may have put them in a trash can.”
    â€œRight. First place to hunt is the Bayport dump,” Joe suggested. “All the town refuse was collected yesterday.”
    The brothers ran out to the garage and climbed into their newly polished yellow convertible. Frank drove along River Road to the edge of Bayport, where the city dump was located.
    As they neared the surrounding fence, the boys could see smoke from the smoldering refuse piles. The Hardys stopped at the main gate, and Joe asked the seated attendant, who was reading a newspaper, where the trash collected the previous day had been dumped.
    Pointing to a section of the huge yard, the man said, “Over there!” then returned to his reading.
    The boys left their car near the entrance and picked their way across the accumulation of cans, paper, and ashes to the corner area.
    â€œWhew!” Joe looked at the huge pile of trash. “What a job!”
    The two young detectives separated and started their search at opposite edges of the mountain of refuse. They worked their way toward the center of the heap. When they met there, neither boy had found a clue.
    Joe looked glum. “Guess we’re just out of luck,” he said, kicking an old carton.
    His brother was about to agree, when the carton turned over and out fell a rolled-up pair of gray slacks. Both boys grabbed for the carton and Frank pulled out a black-and-white checkered sport jacket.
    â€œWa-hoo!” Frank exulted, holding up the jacket and turning it inside out. “Look at this label—Toronto, Canada!”
    â€œThe slacks are from Quebec,” Joe said, looking puzzled. “Do you think Kelly is from Canada?”
    â€œHe could be,” Frank answered, greatly excited. “Between the ruined aerial and this evidence I’d certainly say Kelly has something to do with Dad’s case up there!”
    The discussion was suddenly interrupted by a piercing zoing-g-g as a rifle bullet whined past them into the dump pile!
    â€œDown!” cried Frank. Both boys dived to their stomachs behind a dusty mound of ashes. They lay still, their hearts pounding. Who could be shooting at them?
    After a few minutes Frank cautiously raised his head. Coming across the edge of the dump toward them was a man carrying a rifle. A fat brown beagle trotted behind him.
    The Hardys leaped to their feet, and Joe started forward, his face flushed with anger. Frank grabbed his brother’s arm. “Just a minute, Joe. I don’t think the man was shooting at us deliberately.”
    The man now was running toward the brothers. “D-did I hit anybody?” he quavered. “I was shooting rats and—and I didn’t see you two—honest!”
    Frank and Joe relaxed somewhat. “No,” Frank said tersely, “you didn’t hit us. But you’d better be more careful after this when you’re aiming a gun.”
    The relieved rifleman stuttered an apology as the Hardys picked up the slacks and jacket and hurried off to their car.
    â€œLet’s go to the hospital right after lunch,” Joe urged as they drove away, “and see Kelly’s reaction to this clothing!”
    After a quick lunch, the boys asked Aunt Gertrude to go with them to identify Kelly, and headed for the hospital. When they arrived, it was too early for regular visiting hours, but the nurse, knowing of the Hardys, led the way to Kelly’s first-floor room. The door was closed.
    As they neared it, Frank said, “Hold the clothes behind you, Joe. I’ll try to catch him off guard first with some questions!”
    Joe nodded and