hole. They were moved.â
The woman thanked Frank and quickly led her son away.
When the last visitor had left, the Hardys went over to the well. Each wondered the same thing: Had somebody moved the boards on purpose, hoping to cause an accident? If so, was it the work of the same enemy?
âI sure wish we could wait for sundown to see if anybody lowers that flag,â said Joe.
âSo do I. But we promised to be back. Chet will be disappointed if we donât show up.â
It was now a little before six oâclock. They hurried down and set off in the bateau. Poling off, they looked back at Fort Senandaga. The Union Jack was still waving from the mast.
âI wonder,â Frank said, âif these flags popping up have some connection with Senandaga Dayâand that mysterious battle.â
âCould be.â
As soon as they had landed at the Millwood beach, the Hardys sought out Chet among the throng of visitors and art students.
They spotted him under a tree, and were astonished to see Chet, looking dejected, lifting his canvas from the easel.
âWhy so glum, pal?â Frank greeted him. âWe heard you were a big hit!â
Chetâs face grew longer. âIt was swell until just this minute,â he mumbled. âI went to get some lemonade. While I was goneââ
Unable to finish, Chet swallowed and held up his painting. Frank and Joe gasped. What had been a still life of purple grapes in a yellow basket was smeared with blobs of dripping, green paint!
CHAPTER XIV
Lucky Watermelon
âMY paintingâs ruined!â Chet looked sadly at the ugly blotches on the canvas.
âThatâs a dirty trick!â Joe said, as Frank looked around angrily for possible suspects.
âWhat about Ronnie Rush?â Joe asked. âI wouldnât put it past him, especially if he was jealous of the hit your painting made.â
At the moment Ronnie was not in sight. Frank had an idea. âChet! Youâve still got a little time before the judges arrive. Maybe you can fix up the picture.â
Chet seemed doubtful, but Joe quickly joined in to raise his hopes. âLookâonly the grapes in the center are ruinedâthe rest is okay. You could make those green paint blobs into something else!â
âMaybe youâre right!â Chet acknowledged, brightening. âIâll try it!â Carrying his canvas, he trotted excitedly toward the painting studio.
âWhat a blow for Chet!â Frank commented.
Joe agreed. âHe was really crushed.â
The Hardys met Uncle Jim. His face fell when they told him of the prank, but he was reassured on hearing of Chetâs last-minute attempt. âIâll run over and try to keep up his inspiration!â
The Hardys then saw Mr. Davenport at the sheltered exhibit area, and went over. The elderly patron was walking from one canvas to the next. He spoke volubly, proudly commending his students.
âWell constructed, Bob, good attack!â he told one smiling boy, and moved on to a large, historical battle scene done by another youth.
âExcellent subject, Cliff! Youâve got your figures well deployed!â Twirling his cane happily, he proceeded to another entry. Next to it, looking nervous, stood a blond-haired girl. Her entry was an imaginative view of the Millwood mansion.
âGood thickness of paint there, Ellen.â Mr. Davenport beamed. âInvulnerably designed!â
Joe chuckled. âHe sounds as if heâs talking about the construction of a fort!â
Frank laughed, but quickly became grim. He pointed to a knoll some distance away.
Ronnie Rush stood on the slope near two easels. He had a garish painting displayed on each. The Hardys hurried up to him.
âSay, what happened to your fat friend?â he asked, smirking. âHe get cold feet and withdraw from the exhibit?â
âNot yet,â Frank said coldly. âDo you know who messed up Chetâs
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