The Alaskan Adventure by Franklin W. Dixon

them.
    â€œHi,” she said, when they came up to her. “Listen, I just saw something. I don’t know if it’s important, but I thought I’d better tell you.”
    â€œWhat is it, Justine?” Frank asked.
    Justine hesitated, then said, “I went by the post office to see if the mail plane had brought anything for us yesterday. Curt Stone was there, picking up his mail, too.”
    â€œWhen was this?” Joe asked. “We saw him a little while ago.”
    â€œIt was just a few minutes ago,” Justine said. “Anyway, he got a big stack of letters and started going through them. Then some other people came in, and he put down his letters to talk to them. That’s when I saw it.”
    Frank asked, “Saw what, Justine? Something about one of the letters?”
    She nodded. “I know I shouldn’t have peeked,” she said, turning pink. “It’s just that this one word in the return address caught my eye.”
    Joe took a deep breath and asked, “What word, Justine?”
    She looked at him from under her lashes and said, “Dynamite. The return address was the Northfield Dynamite Company, in Fairbanks. I noticed it because I couldn’t think what Curt Stone would be doing getting a letter from a dynamite company. Is it important?”
    Frank nodded. “It could be very important, Justine. Thanks for telling us.”
    â€œOh, you’re welcome,” she said. “I’d bettergo. This is Mom’s baking day, and David’s mother was out of flour.” She picked up the bag, put it on her shoulder, and walked up the path.
    Joe turned to Frank. “Why would Curt have any dealings with a dynamite company?” he asked.
    â€œTo blow things up?” Frank suggested. “If he’s got a better reason, maybe we ought to find it out.”
    The Hardys walked through the town. Curt had to be around somewhere, and Glitter was too small for someone to stay out of sight for long.
    They found Curt on the far side of town, coming out of a cabin.
    â€œHi, boys,” he said when he saw them. “How’re you liking Glitter? Are you starting to yearn for the bright lights?”
    â€œIt’s pretty exciting around here,” Frank said dryly. “Fires, explosions . . . That reminds me—have you ever heard of the Northfield Dynamite Company?”
    Curt’s face colored angrily, but he managed a smile. “Just as I said, news travels fast around here,” he said. “Well, my snoopy friends, I never heard of the company before today. But today I heard from the company. Somebody in the post office noticed the envelope, I guess.”
    â€œThey just wrote you out of the blue?” Joe asked.
    â€œRight,” Curt replied. “They sent me a price list.”
    â€œThat’s quite a coincidence, coming the day after Jake’s shack blew up,” Frank said.
    â€œIt’s no coincidence at all. It’s obviously part of a plot to discredit me and the ThemeLife Company. I never asked for that price list. I have no use for dynamite. If I did, I’d buy it from Jake.”
    Joe frowned. “Jake sells dynamite?”
    â€œJake sells everything from antiques to zebra-striped vests,” Curt retorted. “Get it? A to Z? People around here need dynamite, for mining or blowing up stumps or settling arguments with their neighbors. So Jake sells it. Simple. See you later. Don’t forget what too much curiosity did to the cat.”
    After Curt walked away, Joe asked, “Do you believe that story?”
    â€œHe makes it hard to believe him,” Frank said. “But why would he admit getting that price list if it incriminates him? Everybody here has a wood stove. Open the fire door, toss the paper in, and there goes the evidence, up in smoke.”
    â€œSo Jake sells dynamite,” Joe said slowly. “I wonder whom he’s sold it to lately.”
    â€œLet’s