Joe led the way as they followed the shelf-like rock which rimmed the base of Devil's Paw. The ground sloped away below in a steep, brush-covered incline.

Rounding a corner of the weird finger-and-thumb rock formation, Joe stopped suddenly and looked down, "Hey! Come here quick!" he yelled to the others, beckoning frantically.

CHAPTER XV.

The Singing Wilderness startled by his brother's shout, Frank looked up, barely in time to see Joe suddenly drop out of sight.

"Oh, no!" Frank exclaimed. Fleetfoot and Ted rushed to his side, then all three climbed to the spot where Joe had just been standing.

In utter amazement they stared down a long, rocky slope. At the bottom lay a At the bottom lay a helicopter. Joe was scrambling toward it. Joe was scrambling toward it.

Near the edge of a barren, desolate area of forest-tufted rock formations, the wide-spreading branches of a tall cedar effectively concealed the craft from the air. The boys' vantage point, however, gave them an un.o.bstructed view.

"Come on, fellows!" Joe yelled up the steep mountainside. "Let's see if Robbie's anywhere around!"

Frank, Ted, and Fleetfoot all followed eagerly.

12S.

126 Grabbing for a handhold on any rock or clump of shrubbery that offered a grip, they made their way down the incline at breakneck speed.

Joe was already examining the helicopter as they approached. "The fuel tank's empty,"

he reported. "No sign of Robbie, either."

A weird silence lay over the desolate scene. Except for a hawk circling overhead, there was no other sign of life. While Ted and Fleetfoot watched curiously, the Hardys subjected the helicopter to a careful scrutiny.

"At least there's no blood or signs of a struggle," Joe commented. "That may mean Robbie is still safe."

Frank asked Ted and Fleetfoot to stand guard over the helicopter while he and Joe investigated the surrounding wilderness for clues. "Keep an eye up there toward Devil's Paw," he added, "in case any of the gang comes back."

"Okay," Ted replied. "You fellows watch your step, too. If any of that bunch are are around, around, they might try to spring an ambush."

Gripping their rifles firmly, the Hardys began combing the terrain around the helicopter in widening circles. The silence was broken only by the scuffing sound of their footsteps among the brush and gravel. A lone birdcall suddenly echoed among the pines, then died away in a twitter.

"Boy, this place is eeriel" Joe muttered.

127 "It's hard to believe any any human being was ever here before us!" Frank said. human being was ever here before us!" Frank said.

Not a footprint or broken twig gave the slightest indication of recent visitors to the area.

Overhead, the hawk was still soaring and circling in search of prey.

Suddenly Frank stopped short and clutched his brother's arm. "Joe!" he hissed. "Do you hear something-or am I imagining things?"

"Hear what?" Joe inquired. Then his questioning look gave way to an expression of blank amazement. "It's music!" music!"

The strains of a dance orchestra wafted faintly through the wilderness!

"Must be a radio playing somewhere," Joe said finally.

"But where?"

Stiffly tense, the brothers looked cautiously about. Were members of the gang hidden nearby, watching every movement? Was a trap about to be sprung on them? Hearts pounding and eyes alert, Frank and Joe walked on, holding their rifles cradled at the ready.

They poked into the underbrush and peered among the trees.

"The sounds are coming from over there," Frank said, pointing to a formation of granite boulders.

The boys approached cautiously, fearful of a possible trap. They scouted around the rocks, but 128 saw n.o.body. Neither was there any sign of a radio.

"Ether ghosts!" Joe exclaimed, mystified. "The wilderness is singing to us."

Abruptly the music died away. A few seconds later the Hardys were electrified to hear a voice speak clearly in a foreign language! But neither Frank nor Joe could identify any of the words-Then a second voice replied-this time in English: "The salmon are going up the river.

The bears will have a feast." As the voice finished speaking, the music resumed.

"What do you make of it?" Joe asked his brother, completely baffled.

Suddenly an idea occurred to Frank. "Wait a second! Let's check some of these other rocks!"

The brothers put their ears to several boulders. All were broadcasting the music. Frank snapped his fingers excitedly.

"Joe, I've got it! Somehow these rocks are acting as natural receivers and picking up a broadcast signal! I've read about cases like this before! Remember that man in Newark who picked up broadcasts in the fillings of his teeth? It nearly drove him crazy."

"That must be the answer," Joe agreed. "But I still don't understand how it happens."

"Neither do I, exactly," Frank admitted. "It has something to do with their resonating frequency, I guess, just like a crystal detector. Maybe there's something about these rocks that intensi129 fies the signals, too. Anyhow, I think we're getting the gang's broadcast."

"No doubt about that," Joe replied. "The voices that broke in didn't sound like commercial broadcasters or ordinary radio hams!"

"Those words in English must have been in code," Frank went on.

"You're right!" Joe exclaimed. He conjectured further about the radio reference to salmon. "It ties in with what Fleetfoot overheard on the river."

"And," Frank said thoughtfully, "I didn't like the remark about the bears having a feast."

"What do you mean?"

"The salmon going upriver may refer to us," Frank explained. "And 'the bears will have a feast' could mean our enemies are laying a trap."

"Good night!" Joe stared at his brother in dismay. "That makes sense, all right! But what can we do about it?"

Frank shrugged. "Just keep our guard up, I guess. Come on," he added. "Let's go back."

By the time the Hardys returned to the helicopter, the music had ceased. But Ted Sewell and the Indian lad were still tense with alarm at the strange sounds of the "singing wilderness." They, too, had heard the broadcast, although much more faintly than Frank and Joe. Fleetfoot was particularly frightened at what seemed to him to be spirit noises.

130 "Devil's Paw is bad place, I tell youl" he kept repeating. "Evil spirits live here!"

Frank rea.s.sured him, explaining the strange phenomenon as best he could. Fortunately, Fleet-foot had listened to the portable radios of white sportsmen on several occasions, and the Hardys were finally able to convince him that this was just another broadcast.

"How about the camp up there?" Joe asked. "Any signs that the gang might be coming back?"

Ted shook his head. "Not so far. But, you know, there's one thing I can't figure out."

"What's that?"

"How come the copter's fuel tank is empty? Robbie couldn't have figured out beforehand how much he'd need to fly here."

"That's a good point, Ted," Frank lauded him. "I have a hunch they must have drained off the gas to keep anyone from flying the helicopter away. Maybe there's a can of it hidden around here somewhere."

They searched the brush and examined the ground for any sign of digging, but all in vain.

"Well, what'll we do with the copter?" Joe asked finally. "Gas it up and try flying to Juneau?"

"Not yet," Frank urged. "We've more sleuthing to do before we crack this mystery. If the gang found the whirlybird gone, they'd be on the alert. I vote we go upriver a bit and pick up the copter on our way back."

131 The others agreed to this plan. Returning to their canoes, the boys unloaded the fuel cans which they had brought along and buried them in a well-hidden cache. Then they embarked once more and continued their journey upstream.

As they paddled along, the four watched both sh.o.r.es of the river like hawks, alert for the slightest sign of movement. But the wilderness lay steeped in brooding silence.

When evening approached, the searchers beached their canoes and made camp in a spot well sheltered by firs and tall brush. On Fleetfoot's suggestion, they avoided lighting a campfire. After a cold supper of canned meat loaf and potato salad, they chose watches and prepared to turn in.

Some time later, Frank, Joe, and Ted were quietly awakened by Fleetfoot. Except for a glimmer of moonlight through the evergreens, the river lay shrouded in darkness. A chill night breeze was blowing down from the mountains.

"What's up, Fleetfoot?" Frank asked, instantly alert.

The Indian youth put his finger to his lips, then whispered, "Look over there, across river!"

The Hardys and Ted stared intently, their hearts pounding with excitement.

Lights flickered on the opposite sh.o.r.e!

CHAPTER XVI.

An Eerie Sight "the gang!" Ted gasped as the four stared at the moving lights across the river.

"Sure aren't fireflies!" Joe stated tersely. "How about it, Frank? Should we paddle over and see what they're up to?"

Frank pondered the situation with a worried frown. "If we try it, we may give ourselves away," he pointed out.

"We have rifles," Ted argued.

Frank shook his head. "We want to avoid any shooting."

"Suppose we go back downriver where they can't spot us, and cross over?" Joe suggested. "Then we could sneak up on the other side and take them by surprise."

"It might work," Frank admitted.

"Unless they hear us hauling the canoe," Ted cautioned.

132.

133 The boys conversed in low tones, discussing various plans. Fleetfoot finally settled the question by saying that he could paddle silently across the stream and scout the area without being detected. Knowing the young Indian's skill at canoeing and woodcraft, the boys agreed.

"No worry," Fleetfoot whispered. "When Indian not want to be seen, no one see 'um. Me come back soon!"

"Don't take any chances!" Frank told him.

The Hardys and Ted watched the Haida lad creep through the underbrush. Keeping low, he reached the water's edge and slid his birchbark canoe noiselessly into the water. Then he slipped aboard and paddled out into midstream with smooth, silent strokes. In a few moments his ghostly figure melted from view in the darkness.

Tense moments pa.s.sed. "He should be there by now," Frank whispered.

Suddenly the twinkling lights vanished as if turned off by a master switch. "Leapin'

catfish!" Joe muttered. "They must have spotted Fleet-foot!"

"Don't jump to conclusions," Frank said calmly. "Perhaps the gang moved farther into the woods."

Joe and Ted alternately worried about whether Fleetfoot had been captured. Frank tried to allay their fears with a jest. "That would leave us up the creek without an Indian," he whispered.

134 Twenty minutes later, however, Frank inwardly felt a growing concern. The situation would certainly be even more perilous without Fleetfoot.

Suddenly, just as silently as he had left, Fleet-foot reappeared at the side of his comrades. Ted jumped with surprise and stared openmouthed.

"Boy! It's good to see you!" Frank said. "What happened?"

"Me see four men," the Haida reported. "They carry lights to search for something."

"The lost moon rocket!" Joe exclaimed excitedly.

"Could be," Frank said. "Did you hear anything they were saying, Fleetfoot?"

The Indian lad shook his head. "No, they keep quiet, not talk at all. Fleetfoot think they must sleep in daytime, hunt only at night. That way, run no danger from bears, and no one ask questions."

"You're probably right," Frank said. "Do they have a boat?"