The Disappearing Floor by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

take you there in the Napoli!”
    Frank considered a moment, then shook his head. “There’s another job you can do.”
    â€œName it.”
    â€œWe have a hunch that ‘Seacat’ may be the name of the gang’s cabin cruiser,” Frank explained. “How about cruising all the coves around here and see if you can spot a boat by that name?”
    Tony and Chet agreed, and the Hardys resumed their course. Reaching the mouth of Barmet Bay, they headed southward along the coast. After a half hour’s run they sighted Tigers’ Bight.
    â€œIf Tigers’ Bight is just a local nickname, I wonder how the gang picked it up,” Joe mused.
    â€œThey must have heard it from some local boatman or fisherman,” Frank reasoned.
    Joe slowed the motor as they cruised into the bight. The cove was wooded on all sides, with a strip of flat sandy beach extending for about a quarter of a mile. The rest of the shore was rocky.
    â€œFrank, that beach would have made a good landing strip for Skyhappy Sal,” Joe suggested. “What say we take a look for plane tracks?”
    â€œGood idea.”
    Joe brought the motorboat in close and anchored. The boys pulled off their loafers and socks and waded ashore. The sand appeared unmarked.
    â€œYou could still be right,” Frank told his brother. “The tracks may have been washed out during high tide.”
    Returning to their boat, the Hardys consulted their photographic blowup of Hirff’s chart. The X mark lay inland from the bight on a narrow creek which flowed not far from the beach. Aside from a few gulls screeching overhead and the noise of the surf outside the bight, the area was calm and silent.
    Frank frowned at the racket of the motor as Joe steered toward the creek. “If any of the gang’s around here, we sure won’t take ’em by surprise,” he remarked.
    Joe nosed the boat gently into the creek. Frank moored it to a rock and they headed inland on foot. The brothers had hiked only a short distance along the winding stream when they sighted a dilapidated cabin nestled among trees.
    â€œSo that’s what the X mark stood for!” Joe exclaimed.
    The boys advanced cautiously to reconnoiter the cabin. Suddenly they were startled by the sound of a plane engine revving up along the bight. A moment later the plane soared into view among the trees.
    â€œIt’s Skyhappy Sal!” Frank yelled.
    The craft was heading seaward. To the boys’ astonishment it banked and circled sharply, then came swooping in low—straight toward them! The pilot cut the motor, and the Hardys caught a fleeting glimpse of Jack Wayne and another man in the plane’s cabin. Jack waved to them frantically.
    â€œDon’t go into that cabin!” he shouted.
    The pilot gunned the engine, trying to work up flying speed again—but the plane dipped and went into a stall.
    â€œHe’s going to crack up!” Joe yelled.
    An instant later the boys heard a terrific impact and the crash of crumpling metal!

CHAPTER XV
    Puzzling Reports
    FEARING the worst, Frank and Joe ran along the creek bank. As they emerged from the trees, they saw that the plane had hit the beach about two hundred yards away. Its nose was high in the air and one wing had crumpled.
    The Hardys ran toward the crashed aircraft. Jack was evidently still in the plane, but his companion had been hurled from the cabin by the force of the impact. He was getting dazedly to his feet and brushing off the sand that smeared him from head to foot. At the sight of the boys, the man began groping frantically on the ground.
    â€œHe may be hunting for his gun!” Frank warned. “We’d better nail him fast!”
    Frank’s guess seemed to be correct, for as the Hardys closed in, he gave up his search and fled into the woods. Joe would have chased him, but Frank grabbed his brother’s arm and pointed to Skyhappy Sal. Flames were licking the