News from the City

Frank Hardy set his jaw with grim deter-initiation as he drove the motorboat into the storm. It was too late to turn back.

The storm had swept up with such speed that Frank realized now that he had underestimated it. The wind was terrific and the waves were high. They battered against the staunch little boat, drenching the boys with flying spray.

Frank headed toward the mainland, but then he saw that he could not hope to find shelter from the wind along the shore. The waves were rolling in and dashing against the rocks. The motorboat would have no chance there. It would be flung hither and thither and battered to pieces.

" Nothing for it but to head right into the wind, I guess, " he shouted, above the howl of the storm.

The other boys were crouching in the bottom of the boat, out of the flying spray. The boat seemed to quiver with successive shocks as it bucked the waves.

The rain was driving into their faces. Through the downpour Frank could not even see the little village toward which they were bound. He wished they had remained on Cabin Island.

The Sleuth, although small, was a strong and weell-built craft. The engine throbbed faithfully. None of them dared think of the consequences should the engine fail.

The bow of the craft cut through the rolling " waves like a knife. Thunder rolled overhead. The sky was black. The boys could scarcely see the shore. Driving against the wind and the tide, the boat could make little speed, and headway seemed slight.

Nevertheless The Sleuth was edging slowly down the bay, coming ever closer to the little village. Frank peered through the raging storm, hoping to catch sight of the little huddle of houses on the shore.

Lightning flared in the dark sky. Frank held the boat steadily into the wind.

They were all drenched to the skin. Although no one said a word, Frank could see that the others were frightened. As a matter of fact, he was none too confident of the outcome himself.

" It all depends on the engine, " he muttered. " If that fails, we're done for."

But the engine had been thoroughly overhauled just the previous week. He was grateful for the foresight that had enabled him and Joe to take this precaution.

Joe crept to the side of his brother.

" Do you think we'll get there, Frank? " he shouted.

Frank nodded. " It's dirty weather, but we ought to make it all right."

Just then he caught sight of the little break in the shoreline that indicated the cove where the village was located. They were still far out, and to reach the village the boat must run diagonal to the waves. This was the hardest test.

The buffeting The Sleuth had previously received was as nothing to what she now suffered. Time and again the boys held their breaths, certain that the boat was about to capsize. Great waves would crash against it, the boat would cant far over on her side, her bow would be buried in the water. Then, like a live thing, The Sleuth would shake herself free, rise above the waves, and go plunging on.

The boys clung to every available hold, fearful of being washed overboard.

Suddenly Joe gave a shout of warning:

" Watch out! "

A great roller was bearing down on them.

They ducked, waited––

Crash!

A huge sea of green water engulfed them. For a moment the boat was completely buried beneath the wave. It slipped far over. Frank felt his feet washed from beneath him. He clung to the wheel with all the strength at his command, held his breath through what seemed an eternity of waiting.

Then the motorboat labored free of the wave, slowly righted itself. The water receded. The craft was weighted down by the water that still remained in it, but all the boys were safe. Chet was suffering from a cut across the forehead, where he had been flung against one of the seats; Biff was clutching his wrist, which had been wrenched in his desperate effort to retain his grip on an iron ring; Joe was gasping for breath after his immersion in the water; Frank felt a dull pain in his side, where he had been dashed against the wheel.

Afore dead than alive, the boys held on. But the village was now in plain view. They had gone through the worst of the storm, and the waves were now hurling the boat in toward the cove.

Frank steered toward a little dock, where the angry waters were dashing themselves angrily against the timbers. He saw a man clad in oilskins running out on the dock, gesturing to them and pointing toward the shore. There was a little boathouse in the cove, and then the man ran from the dock over toward the boathouse, still gesturing.

There was shelter for them. The motorboat would have been dashed to pieces had they tied up to the dock. Frank saw the door of the boathouse open and he drove directly toward it. A great wave caught the craft and it shot forward. A turn of the wheel and he was headed into the narrow opening. He switched off the engine, and then The Sleuth slid gently into the slip.

Tired, exhausted, drenched, the boys clambered out of the boat. The man in oilskins was waiting for them. He seized a rope Frank flung to him and snubbed it around a post.

" Well, now, that was a narrow squeak, if ever I saw one! " he declared in a familiar, nasal voice. " Wust storm we've had on this bay for ten years, and you'd be caught in it. You're mighty lucky, my lads."

They looked up. They knew that voice well.

" Amos Grice! " exclaimed Frank.

At the sound of his name, the man looked around. Then he recognized the refugees.

" Well, if it ain't the Hardy boys! " he shouted in welcome. " And Chet and Biff! "

" You certainly did us a good turn that time, " declared Joe.

Amos Grice was soon shaking hands with them, asking a score of questions. How had they come to be out on the bay in the storm? Had they been at Cabin Island? Had they been frightened? How did the boat get half full of water? And so on and so forth. He was a kindly old man, this village storekeeper. He now led the way out of the boathouse.

" Come up to the store, " he said. " Come up and put on some dry clothes. You're soaked to the hide, all of you. Come up and tell me how it happened."

" Nothing much to tell, Mr. Grice, " explained Frank. " We were on Cabin Island this afternoon when we saw the storm coming up. " We knew there was no chance of getting back to Bayport in time, so we thought we'd run over here, but the storm broke too suddenly for us."

" It did break sudden, " admitted the storekeeper. " It broke sudden and fierce. I've never seen a worse storm in ten years."

He took them up to the store, and in a warm kitchen at the back he bade them dry themselves by the fire while he hustled about and procured dry clothing. Amos Grice was a bachelor, and while his living quarters were crude, they were neat and comfortable. He was genuinely delighted to see the boys, and he soon busied him-self at the stove preparing supper.

After a hearty meal the lads were feeling more comfortable and their hazardous adventure on the bay did not seem quite so perilous as they looked back on it.

" I guess we won't be able to get back to the city to-night, " said Frank regretfully.

Amos Grice snorted.

" I wouldn't hear of it! " he declared. " Couldn't think of it! Just suicide to try it. No, sir, you lads have got to spend the night with me, and glad I am to have you. It's seldom enough I have company here.''

" As long as you have room for us–"

" Of course I have room for you. There's two big beds in the spare room, and you're more than welcome."

A bell occasionally tinkled out in the store, and Amos Grice bustled away to wait on a customer. However, there were few people in the little village and the night was so wild and stormy that nearly everyone was staying indoors, so the interruptions were few.

They chatted with the old man all that evening, sitting by the fire, and eventually he showed them to a big room where the beds were already made.

" Now, " he said, " sleep as long as you wish and I'll have some breakfast for you in the morning. No doubt your parents is worrying about you, and I'd phone 'em if I could, to let 'em know you're all safe and sound. But the telephone wires is down somewhere along the line. They'll likely be fixed by morning."

" Dad and mother will certainly be worrying about us, " said Joe.

" Can't be helped, " returned Amos philosophically. " They'll feel all the better when they know you're safe."

The boys were tired and they fell asleep quickly. In the morning when they awakened the sun was shining in the window. The storm was over. Out in the kitchen a fire crackled in the stove and the could hear Amos Grice moving about. There was a savory aroma of bacon and eggs and coffee.

" He's certainly a good scout! " declared Chet, as they dressed.

" Can't be beat, " agreed Biff.

When the boys were washed and dressed, they went out into the kitchen.

" Sleep well? " inquired Amos.

" You bet! "

" That's good. Breakfast is ready. Pull your chairs up to the table and get on the outside of some bacon and eggs. There's plenty, so don't be afeared to ask for second helpin's."

" Is the telephone working, Mr. Grice? " asked Frank. " I'd like to call them up at home if I can."

" Yep, the phone is workin' again, " the storekeeper assured them. " I know, because I " was callin' the operator this morning. Big doin's in Bayport last night."

" What was that? " asked Joe, interested.

" Big robbery at the airport. One of them airplanes was robbed of a lot of mail worth more'n twenty thousand dollars, so the telephone operator was tellin' me."

The Hardy boys looked at one another in amazement. A second robbery at the airport! Impulsively, Frank exclaimed:

" Ducroy again! "