THE SECRET ADVENTURE OF THE RED SKULL MOUNTAIN MYSTERY-- THE BENDOVER BROTHERS MEET J.R. "BOB" DOBBS

Chapter 1

A Mysterious Skull

"Extra! Extra-a! 'Smallville Faces Water Shortage'! 'President Bones His Dog'! 'Boy Eats Someone Else's Foot'! Read all-l about-t it!"

Standing on a corner of Smallville's main street, the newsboy shouted the headlines again. Scarcely had he finished when a crowd began to surround him, and he was soon selling papers as rapidly as he could pocket the money. Attracted by the newsboy's cries, and noticing the unlawful assembly below, Hal Bendover flew his autogyro close to the curb and stopped it a few yards from the corner.

His brother Will jumped out of the heliopter and wormed his way through the crowd, striking randomly with his paramilitary truncheon, reappearing a moment later with the unlawful newspapers from the now dead newsboy.

He slipped into the seat beside Hal, and the tall, blond-haired youth carefully nosed the autogyro back up into the air. "What does the paper say?" Hal asked impatiently, as Will sat silently reading.

Seconds passed without a reply. Hal turned his head for a quick look at his brother. The equally Aryan youth, six months younger than himself, was deeply absorbed in the news story, a worried frown on his face. Hal nudged him. "Will--snap out of it! It can't be that bad!"

The remark, penetrating Will's torpid concentration, made him look up.

"It can't, huh?" he retorted. "Listen!" He read aloud from the news story as Hal guided the autogyro low to the ground through a pedestrian area: " 'City officials announced today that unless a way is found to fill the Karnack Reservoir, the people of Smallville will have to decrease production because of the complete lack of water.

" 'Last week,' " Will continued to read, " 'work was completed by the volunteer student cooperative on the dam to impound the water of the Karnack River, and on the conduit which will carry the Peoples' water to Smallville. But despite the efforts of the construction engineers from the Development Directorate, the reservoir will not fill with water--water needed to operate the munitions works and other vital heavy war industries.' "

"Golly!" exclaimed Hal. "That is serious! Counterrevolutionary thought!"

Will read on: " 'Comrade Carpenter, a local engineer, has been employed by the Development Directorate to fix blame on the saboteurs and democrats believed responsible. He will also determine why the dam will not fill with water, but so far he has failed to provide a solution--despite his family being held hostage.' "

"Carpenter," Hal mused. "That name sounds familiar."

"Yes," Will agreed, trying to look smart.

"I'm sure I've heard it before--wait! I've got it! Mr. Carpenter is the engineer Dick Hammer works for! We implicated them for hooliganism and sent them to a reeducation camp a couple of years ago, as a prank!"

"Right, Will. I bet Dick is working with him on the water project. They are both probably spies and traitors! Gosh!"

The autogyro blades had cleared the congestion on the walkway and Hal turned the heliopter to take them home. As he did so, Will suddenly stiffened and his eyes grew wide with fear.

"Hal! Look out!"

Hal had not noticed the high voltage lines, veering as he was toward the tall young man who, completely absorbed in the illegal newspaper he was reading, had not noticed the decapto-copter. Quickly, the Bendover boy twisted the controls and put the autogyro into low hover mode. Hal caught a glimpse of a frightened face above the newspaper as they bore down on the young man.

The rotor blade missed his head by inches. "Let's act friendly. Maybe he will incriminate himself," said Will.

Will leaped out as the autogyro landed, and ran back to where the young fellow was standing. A moment later, Hal followed.

"Your Papers!" he heard his brother exclaim. "Why: you are Dick Hammer! This picture does not look like you! You will come with us!"

Hal was surprised. He hadn't recognized the young engineer when he glimpsed his face above the newspaper.

Dick grinned weakly and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. "For what am I being held?" he asked.

"Shut up!" said Will, "You will speak only in answer to our questions! Are you working with Comrade Carpenter on the mystery, Mr. Hammer?"

"My, you are some detective!" said Dick Hammer.

"It doesn't take a detective to figure out that when water won't fill a reservoir, and an engineer such as Mr. Carpenter can't seem to find the reason for it, there's something mysterious going on," Hal said. My only question is who is responsible for this crime."

The Bendover boys' interest in mysteries was well known in Smallville. The boys' father, Colonel Yul Bendover, was one of the most effective political officers in the police state, and Hal and Will, although still in high school, had spent many vacations and afternoons after school helping him with especially violent interrogations and bringing criminal conspirators to justice. In solving their most recent case, the mystery of "The Phantom Quota," the boys had proved to even their infamous father that they had become expert amateur sleuths, and both Hal and Will itched for another mystery to test their abilities for the State.

They were eager to interrogate Dick Hammer about the mystery of Karnack Dam, but the engineer suddenly turned pale and wavered unsteadily. Hal quickly thrust his fist into Dick's solar plexus while Will held his arm behind his back.

"You will answer the question!," the younger Bendover boy said anxiously, fearing that his captive had swallowed poison.

Hammer then rubbed his eyes and looked at them somewhat dazedly. "Let me sit down for a minute," he said thinly, then vomited.

"Drunk" Hal said. "Help me walk him to the car, Will."

Dick protested, saying that if they would just let him go, he would return to his investigation invigorated against counterrevolutionary tendencies. But the Bendover boys refused to listen.

"You're coming to special police headquarters with us," Hal stated flatly, roughly manhandling him into the cage in the back of the autogyro.

"There you'll be able to lie down, if you feel like it. And if that doesn't cure you," he added, grinning, "Aunt Gertrude will stuff you to the ears with the best food you ever tasted!"

"...or something," he whispered to Will.

Dinner was on the table when Hal and Will arrived at headquarters with Dick Hammer. Both Mrs. Bendover and Aunt Gertrude met them at the door, and Hal told them what had happened. Mrs. Bendover, concerned about Dick, wanted to beat him at once, but Aunt Gertrude wouldn't hear of it.

"Fiddlesticks!" she scoffed. "He is drunk. We will wait until he is sober--and then beat him. There is nothing that sap gloves won't fix!"

Dick surprised them by groveling before the tall, solidly built spinster. The fresh air during the flight to the headquarters had greatly revived him, he told them--and he would gladly confess as to any idealistic failures that they so desired. Aunt Gertrude's smile was so triumphant and frightening that Hal and Will couldn't help laughing. The Aunt glared at them suspiciously, so they shut up, well aware of her violent mood swings.

"What are you two idiots chortling about?" she demanded. "Hurry up and prepare a cell for our new visitor!"

Aunt Getrude spent most of her time at the home of her brother, Yul Bendover, engaged in incestuous acts of perversion. She was very fond of Hal and Will, and saw in them the manic sadism so cultivated in the family. But Aunt Gertrude never allowed her fondness for them to show in her manner, except sexually, and was apt to be dictatorial toward the boys.

Later, as the Bendover boys assisted in the beating of Dick Hammer, they learned that Mrs. Bendover and Aunt Gertrude already knew about the threatened water shortage. A radio announcer had described the situation as normal and urged listeners to limit their water use to their barest needs, and that violators would be shot.

"Humph!" Aunt Gertrude sniffed. "What does he think we've been doing all these years?" She cuffed Dick Hammer with a right--hard enough to open up his nose. "The authorities of this city should be ashamed of themselves. Spies, saboteurs, and anti-party sentiment was never this high in my day! Why, just five years ago, the wells were poisoned, and we were executing traitors by the hundreds."

"Don't say such things, Gertrude!" Mrs. Bendover objected, but the strong-willed spinster kept right on. She reminded them of the increasing number of families, riddled with immigrants and "unreliables" moving into the Smallville area, described that lack of rooms in the special State schools for the chemical indoctrination of the extra children, and ended by predicting total collapse before the forces of democratic reform.

Mrs. Bendover then kicked her violently in the head, to break her out of her insane rant.

"Wow!" Hal laughed. "That might mean that we would be hung from light poles!" He looked across the room at Will, banteringly. "Will, it looks like we've got to do something to make Smallville the proletarian showpiece it used to be. Think Mr. Carpenter would detect a couple of sleuths trying to catch him in his espionage?"

Will looked down at the bloody mess that was Dick Hammer, stupidly expecting a bantering reply, but the young engineer seemed to be barely on the edge of consciousness. Will's eyes lit with hope. Maybe he and Hal would soon be involved in a mystery after all, if they could 'turn' Dick!

Dick was mumbling. "You might, at that," he said slowly. "Some pretty strange things have been happening lately on Red Skull Mountain. Maybe you can find out about the conspiracy that is instigating them."

Hal and Will exchanged a glance of elation, which they soon transferred to a private cell so that they could be alone together.

Red Skull Mountain, where the reservoir was located, was about twenty miles from Smallville. Neither of the boys knew a great deal about the mountain, it being in a restricted zone, but what they had heard made the rocky region darkly mysterious--a place where anything might happen.

Later that evening, the boys had dinner, but were told that they couldn't go on a new mission until they had had their dessert.

"Apple cake."

"Why, Aunt Gertrude!" beamed Will. "The biggest mystery in the world couldn't tear us away until we'd eaten your apple cake!"

"Jeepers," said Hal, "We've got to get Dick Hammer back to his camp this evening. We'll fly out there together."

An hour later, Hal was flying the autogyro above the highway toward Red Skull Mountain. Seated in the heliopter with him were Will and the cleaned up Dick Hammer, and packed in the trunk along the cargo area were folded pup tents and cots, hiking uniforms and weapons--not to mention a basket of sandwiches and cake Aunt Gertrude had prepared. The two boys had promised to return to headquarters the next day, as Yul Bendover was attending a State funeral and did not trust the two women alone together for any length of time. A few miles farther, Hal turned the autogyro off the highway flight path and over a dirt road. Directly ahead loomed the restricted airspace of Red Skull Mountain.

Most of the mountain was thickly covered with pollution-dead trees, but the slope facing the road was scarred by stretches of jagged rocks, huge boulders and artillery craters. Scaling the mountain was hazardous, there being partisan activity in the area, and few people in the area who undertook the climb survived the gunfire. Now they were at the base of the mountain, and the narrow dirt road wound around the foot of the rocky slope.

Suddenly, Will gripped Hal's arm. "Hal! Look!" he cried. "There's mortar fire on Red Skull Mountain!"

Hal looked in the direction where his brother was pointing, and from his seat in the holding cell in the back Dick, too, craned his head to see. A thin column of smoke rose from the trees which obscured the crest of the hill and drifted across the valley.

As Hal brought the autogyro to a landing, Will quickly used his field glasses.

The two boys then dragged the engineer out of the autogyro. "You will tell us what is going on! Do you think it's the start of an invasion, partisans, or just a forest fire?" Hal said worriedly. Dick did not answer at once. Then, as suddenly as it had risen, the smoke vanished. There was no sign of flames or bodies.

The boys unmasked. "That's odd! Exclaimed Will. "Now you see it, now you don't!"

"Give me the gosh darned bino's!" Hal suggested. He took the field glasses and focused them on the spot where he had seen the smoke. There was no sign of activity whatever. He turned slowly, bringing more of the mountain terrain into his field of vision. Before his eyes, half concealed by a huge boulder, appeared one of the strangest creatures he had ever seen--a huge, man-like being with fierce eyes, long shaggy hair that made him look like an Irish wolfhound, and a large, wooden club.

His eyes seemed to burn down at the boy and his mouth hung open in a half-sly, half foolish smile.

He was smoking a pipe.

Hal uttered a low exclamation. "What is it?" Will demanded excitedly. "A big man in a gorilla suit," Hal told him, giving Will the glasses. "At least, he looks more like a man than anything else!"

Will trained the field glasses on the boulder Hal indicated, but he saw no sign of the mountain creature. Hal could not find him again through the scope of his sniper rifle.

"What did he look like, Hal?" Dick asked, as they turned back toward the autogyro.

Hal described the creature in detail, hoping Dick could identify him, but Dick shook his head. He had met some queer people while working on Red Skull Mountain, he said, but none of them matched Hal's description.

About the enter the autogyro, to get the mind-altering drugs they would use on Dick to determine what he really knew, they heard an ominous rumbling behind them. They turned swiftly, and Will's jaw dropped.

"Look out!" he shouted. Hurtling down the rocky slope with ever-increasing speed was a huge boulder--headed straight for the autogyro!

Faster and faster rolled the giant rock, crushing shrubs, shale and grave markers in its path.

And tumbling down the directly behind the boulder was a round, white object.

"Duck!" yelled Hal.

"No! Boulder!" yelled his dimwitted brother.

The two boys and their prisoner scrambled to safety behind a near-by tree. They saw the boulder strike a huge tree stump and teeter precariously. The small white object kept right on rolling.

"It's a skull!" cried Will.

"It sure ain't no duck!" cried Hal.

The words were barely out of his mouth when the boulder rolled off the tree stump and again rumbled down the slope toward the autogyro. The Bendover boys and their prisoner stood transfixed, waiting for the crash!

Chapter 2

Strange Laughter

The boys and young Hammer could hardly believe it.

One moment, it seemed inevitable that the boulder would crash into the autogyro.

The next instant, they saw it collide with a jutting rock, bounce into a crag, rebound into a cliff face, hop twice, and collide with the autogyro.

Fortunately, they had a repair kit and their utility knives, and soon it was good as new.

"That's the fourth time today my life's been threatened!" said Dick, grinning. "Must be the season for accidents!"

"Shut up," said Hal Bendover, striking him on his still injured nose.

Hal shook his head grimly. "That was no accident, Will. That was our pipe smoking man-thing of the mountain!" Hal focused the scope of his sniper rifle on the spot where he had seen the creature hiding behind the boulder. As he suspected, the boulder was no longer there--and neither was the mountain man.

Will's lips tightened and he walked toward the slope. "I'm going up after that thing!"

"Will, wait!" Hal called. "It is probably an ambush. There'll be plenty of time later to hunt him down and skin him. Right now we've got to go on to the camp." Will returned reluctantly, and they all walked back to the autogyro.

Suddenly, Hal broke into laughter. Sitting on the driver's seat, facing the wheel, was the human skull they had seen tumbling down the mountain. It apparently had bounced into the autogyro after hitting the road.

"Hello, sailor!" Hal said. "What's your name and identity number?"

He picked up the skull and looked at it carefully. In the rough descent down the rocky slope, it had become badly battered.

"You're a little tough to recognize, miss," Hal added with a grin, pulling some half-decayed tissue from the scalp, "but gee, you have two empty eye sockets" he said, leering at his brother who leered back.

"Maybe we can find a use for it-- later!" said Will.

"I know," said Hal, "We'll appoint you mascot for our new mystery!"

They impaled the skull on the viewer-scope antenna and set out for the camp. After they had flown a few miles more, Dick Hammer showed Hal a clearing where he could safely land. Shouldering their camping equipment, and test firing their machine guns at small animals, the two boys and the engineer started up a narrow, winding trail toward the top of the mountain. Single file, they climbed steadily, brushing aside brambles and placing their feet carefully to avoid stepping on loose stones and turning their ankles, or slipping to certain death on the jagged rocks below.

Once Hal was certain that they would have to unload a few pieces of their camping equipment in order to ascend a particularly steep and treacherous section of the trail.

But they made it, with Dick carrying the extra heavy load--and found themselves standing on the crest of the mountain, looking down on Karnack Valley. This was the valley engineers had converted from immigrant housing settlements into a reservoir. Far below them, despite the gathering dusk, Hal and Will could see a thin sheet of foul-looking water behind a towering white concrete dam.

As they started down toward the dam, Dick explained that the Karnack River had been created by diverting water from a lake in the foothills up to the mountains to fill the reservoir. "And then we were advised that water does not flow uphill" he said. "So now we spend vast amounts of money to pump it up to about ten miles uphill from here."

"Everything's set for the water to flow into Smallville," Dick went on, "except for one thing--the water won't rise in the reservoir."

The section of the slope on which the Bendover boys found themselves was covered with trees, rocks, and shell casings, and the periodic gun and mortar fire threatened to trip them and plunge them down the steep mountainside. But as they came to a place level with the top of the dam, they saw that the remainder of the slope, clear down to the water, was without a single tree, for it had once been used as a tailing heap for a uranium mine.

Hal and Will circled the valley with their eyes. There was a clear line extending completely around the sides of the valley--exactly level with the top of the dam. The slopes above the line were thick with trees, rocks and foliage. Below the line, the trees had been cut down--though in one area a great many shrubs and thickly matted brambles had been allowed to remain.

Hal knitted his brow. "That's queer!" he exclaimed. "What?" Dick inquired, looking around at him. "All of those bushes and brambles," Hal said, pointing to the slope below him, "perfect cover to launch rockets at the dam."

"They did clear out most of it," Dick replied. "But a few days before the slaves were finished, a landslide at the top of the mountain tumbled down more rocks and gravel and bushes, killing dozens."

"Wow!" Will ejaculated. "Anyone who mattered get hurt?"

"Yes. Three guards were seriously injured. Then the rest of the construction crew decided it was too risky to clear away the brush at that time, and laid down their tools and rioted. Of course, their replacements from the reeducation camp will come back to complete the job," Dick added.

Will ejaculated again.

"But first, Mr. Carpenter and I must find out why the water in the reservoir won't rise."

They continued on down the slope. The way was much easier now, and they made rapid progress. Soon they could make out a small construction shack at the foot of the hill. Dick cupped his hands to his mouth and called, and Mr. Carpenter came out of the shack and stood waiting for them.

"Hi! Howya doin'? You folks lookin' to buy some lakefront property?" he greeted them as they arrived at camp.

Mr. Carpenter was a tall, sun-tanned engineer with an intelligent face, friendly manner and a grin. A pipe jutted from the corner of his mouth as he studied Hal and Will with keen interest as Dick introduced them.

"You can call me "Bob"," he said. "Bendover, eh? You must be Yul Bendover's sons."

"Shut up. Show us your papers," said Hal.

"In that case, I'm twice as glad to see you," the young engineer said, ignoring their remark and still grinning. He startled the boys by shaking their hands firmly, and waving them over to the shack.

"Welcome to "Bob's" Place!" he said, slapping Will on the back, then deftly avoiding a punch to the face from the boy. He strode toward the shack, leaving the confused youths to wonder whether they should shoot him for his impertinence, a well-built man wearing a business coat and tie with windbreaker, khaki breeches, and leather boots laced to above his knees.

Hal, Will and Dick followed him into the shack and Dick gave him a copy of the illegal newspaper the boys had forgotten to remove from the autogyro.

"Bob" Carpenter's face grew grim as he read the story on the use of hot pepper enemas to treat hemorrhoids, and the muscles of his jaw tightened with anger as he came to the comics section. His toothy grin with clenched pipe remained throughout, however. Hal leaned forward across the table at which they were sitting.

"Comrade Carpenter," he said earnestly, "you will assist us--Will and I, in our investigation into this obvious conspiracy!"

"Bob" Carpenter studied both of the boys. "Of course," he said. "I know your reputation as amateur detectives. I'll appreciate any assistance you can give me. Smoke?"

Confused by his response, Hal just nodded, but Will grinned happily.

"Certainly, give us your cigarettes," Hal said, knowing how expensive tobacco was, and how possession almost assured an arrest for black market activities. They both noticed the odd flavor, and commenting on the taste, Carpenter assured them that it was of the finest quality 'Frop available.

They did not question his remark, being somehow distracted by the moths fluttering about the shacks' lantern.

"Yes," said Carpenter, "some pretty strange things have been happening up here. Smoke, for one thing. A thin column of smoke rises from the top of the mountain every so often. I've tried to track it down, but so far I haven't been able to find where it comes from."

"That must be the same smoke we saw!" Hal put in excitedly. The youth explained what had happened while he, Will and Dick Hammer were parked along the road at the foot of the mountain.

"Bob" observed that the smoke they had seen probably was coming from the same spot as the column of smoke he had been seeing.

Hal had hoped that the engineer could also identify the strange man-thing of the mountain, but "Bob" was seemingly as perplexed as the boys themselves. Will just kept staring at the moths.

"He may be a squatter," Carpenter declared, "but I never came across one who matches your description."

"Squatter?" Hal asked, puzzled. "Yes," Dick said. "Often they are brain-damaged escapees from the mental institution. There were several living in the valley when the volunteer student labor cooperative moved in to build the reservoir. Most of them were either killed or forced back over the ridge to the other side of the mountain. But a few--like Slasher Hawkins and Potato Connie--refused to leave and are still hanging onto their shacks in the valley. They are believed to engage in cannibalism."

"Would Slasher Hawkins or Potato Connie be likely to roll a boulder or toss a skull at us?" queried Hal.

"Bob" laughed. "Possibly. But I doubt it. They prefer rocket-propelled grenades and explosives. They're troublesome, but I've no proof that they've tried to scare me away from here."

Hal's interest quickened. "You mean, someone's been tossing skulls at you too?"

"Bob" laughed again. "Not exactly. But I found a skull planted in my knapsack--and another on my worktable. Here's one. Look at the eye sockets on this babe!"

Hal was transfixed. The holes seemed to have been enlarged, then the edges smoothed by repeated rubbing. "Golly!" said Hal. "Where do they come from?"

"From the inside of people's heads," Carpenter said, "doubtless, the skulls come from there."

Surveying equipment and tools had been stolen from the camp also, the boys learned. And mysterious explosions had been set off close by. It seemed clear that a determined effort was being made to frighten away the engineers and slaves from the vicinity.

But who was behind it? Why?

"One thing is certain," "Bob" Carpenter declared, "I'm not leaving here until I've found what's wrong with the reservoir." He looked at Hal, then Will, and then Dick. "I've a hunch that working together, we can lick this thing," he told them.

Waves of nausea coursed through Hal as he assumed it was the skull that "Bob" was talking about.

No, it was the mystery of the water, "Bob" assured him.

"You can count on us, Mr. Carpenter," said Hal, but Will had become fascinated by the moths again.

"Bob" Carpenter smiled. "Call me "Bob"," he told them. He glanced at his watch. "Now, let's hit the sack. We have plenty to do tomorrow!"

It was quite a task for the boys to set up their pup tent close by "Bob's Place," set trip flares and anti-personnel mines and figure out their fields of fire, but soon they were asleep on their cot. But it wasn't long before their sleep was rudely shattered.

An explosion rocked the earth a few hundred feet from their tent, and bits of earth, stones and twigs rained all around them.

"Incoming!" screamed Hal, as he began to lay down a fierce hail of bullets in no particular direction, perforating and collapsing the tent. Then silence, as from some distance away, came a shrill, cackling laugh!

Chapter 3

Potato Connie

"Hal! Help!"

It was Will calling.

Hal felt a sudden fear. Had his brother been hit by enemy fire, or by his own ineffectual rampage?

"I'm coming Will!" said Hal. From a position standing on the ground, stark naked, his hot machine gun smoking peacefully, he saw that some of the debris had fallen on their now-perforated pup tent and knocked it down. Will was floundering under the canvas like an angry sea lion!

Hal shook off a few of the pebbles and twigs, then lifted a corner of the canvas to find his brother trembling in a psychotic daze, and wielding a survival knife in an undirected but menacing fashion.

"Settle down," said Hal, "bad guys gone."

Will crawled out from under the tent. He took a deep breath. "Whew!" he said. "The gosh darned thing nearly smothered me!"

The boys heard voices in the shack and through a window saw "Bob" light a lantern. Hal assumed it was a secret signal to the enemy.

"What happened?" asked Will. "One minute I was dreaming about one of Aunt Gertrude's pies being rubbed all over me--and the next, I thought the sky was falling down on me!"

"You know as much as I do, Will," Hal told him. "Let's put some clothes on. We'll have a look. It's too bad our radio can't call in air support in these mountains."

The boys dressed quickly, picked up their flashlights and guns and met "Bob" and Dick, who came out with a lantern. It did not take long for them to find the spot where the explosion had occurred. A huge, jagged hole had been torn in the ground.

"Bob" examined it briefly. "Dynamite," he reported, "too irregular to have been high explosive ordnance. It's just like the other explosions."

"What's the purpose of the explosions, "Bob"?" asked Hal.

"It seems to be the digging of holes. So far, they are just part of a 'war of nerves,' " "Bob" replied. "Whoever sets them off probably hopes that we'll crack under the strain, and come running after them buck naked spraying machine gun fire in no particular direction, then go away in abject terror, never to return."

"Let's hope the explosives are never used for anything more serious than that," Dick added, hoping to divert the obvious reference to Hal's recent actions.

"Shut up!" said Hal.

The boys agreed soberly. The next charge of dynamite set off might be an attack on the dam, their lives, or a signal to start a nationwide campaign against the forces of the patriotic revolution!

"I wish I could lay my hands on that guy," Will said as they started back. "That cackle of his gives me the creeps." He then ranted on about the horrible torments he would inflict on him until his brother Hal started repeatedly slapping him about the face.

Suddenly Hal stopped. His flashlight, set on the ground to his left, had spotted a half-eaten turnip. He ran to it, the others close behind him. Beside the turnip with the prints of huge naked human-like feet. And the print of the right foot showed the imprint of a toe-ring on the small toe!

"These look as though they might be the tracks of the man-thing of the mountain," Hal said. Will nodded in agreement through his bloody nose, and the boys decided to follow the footprints the first thing in the morning.

The rest of the night was uneventful. The sun was well up when the boys awoke in the morning with the aroma of frying bacon tickling their nostrils.

Taking the ration of 'Frop seasoned bacon away from "Bob" and Dick for themselves, they returned to the spot where they had seen the prints and set out to follow them, bent on revenge. In some places on the hillside the prints were barely distinguishable, in others they were strikingly clear. Almost without knowing it, so intently did their eyes search the ground for the mysterious tracks, Hal and Will found themselves a stone's throw from a stretch of cleared land where row upon row of potato plants and other garden vegetables were growing.

Behind the garden patch was a small shanty.

"That must be Potato Connie's place," Hal said. "Yes," agreed Will. "And the footprints are heading straight for it!"

As they approached the tidy garden, the boys saw a beautiful woman working in it. She wore a sunbonnet with an enormous peak that completely shaded her face, a g-string and high heels. Both of the boys noticed the high spikes and guessed that she was not the mountain-man-thing.

Connie straightened up at their approach and stared at the boys. "Who be you, darlin's?" she cried. "We're from Mr. Carpenter's camp," Hal began. "We--"

"Oh, you be, be you!" Annie cut him short. "Then you git on back there, if you know whut's good fer you! Ain't no engineers goin' to traipse on my land, smoke my 'Frop, and not pay me fer serv'ces rendered!"

"We're not engineers," Will tried to explain. "We're--" But Potato Connie was deaf to any voice but her own. "You hear me! Git! Good-fer-nothin' normals--drivin' self-respectin' people off their property!"

Connie bent double and rocked with sudden pain. She looked up at the boys, her eyes reflecting her misery, and whispered, "If I weren't needin' 'Frop bad, I'd run you off myself!"

Hal went to her quickly and pinned her to the ground. "You need to detox," he begged. Connie looked at him suspiciously. Then she said grudgingly, "They's some 'Frop pills in the house--on the table. If I could have one o' them, it would relieve me some."

"I'll get the pills!" Will told her, but Hal was finding himself strangely aroused. He normally didn't like junkies.

Will ran into the house and returned a moment later with a small green bottle. Potato Connie unscrewed the lid, swallowed a pill with a grimace, then offered one to each of the boys. Will popped one into his mouth with a big grin. Hal looked at it dubiously, before slowly swallowing his.

Soon they were all in bed together inside of her ramshackle cottage. She studied the boys carefully. "Whut you want?" she said at last.

"We want information," Hal told her.

"Thas Differ'nt," she said, "I usually just tell them to go to Zamora, but you boys is kinda sweet."

He described the column of smoke he had seen, and the explosion, but although Connie admitted having seen the smoke and having heard the explosion, she claimed she knew nothing about them.

"Have you ever come across any skulls around here?" Will put in.

"Skulls?" scoffed the attractive woman. "Why, they's a million of 'em buried in the mass grave on the other side o' this mountain! And they's plenty o' skulls scattered on this side too! Story is that there were a cholery epidemic, but they's mostly women and children captured from Oceania and shot by the army. No water in that there reservoir ever'll be fit to drink!" She cackled with sudden mirth.

"Tell that to your engineer friends!"

Hal tried another tack. "Do you know a strange creature who lives on the mountain?" he asked. "A very large, hairy beast with long, shaggy hair that smokes a pipe, and--?" Connie's head jerked up suddenly, and into her eyes crept an undeniable look of fright!

CHAPTER 4

Chud joins Up

In the next instant the young woman's eyes became harsh, and she declared flatly that she had never seen nor heard of such a creature.

Hal thanked Connie for her information, and the young woman sniffed. "Ain't told you nuthin', fur as I know. You men are all alike. I reckon you ain't goin' ta pay me neither!"

She watched the boys start down the slope in the direction from which they had come. "Tell them engineers this valley ain't never goin' to be covered wit' water! An' no more freebies!" she yelled after them. "Tell 'em Connie said so!"

The boys grinned at one another and looked back. Connie went back to tending her potato plants again.

When they reached the camp, they saw "Bob" and Dick slowly circling the partly filled reservoir in a rowboat. Dick swung the oars, while at regular intervals "Bob" dropped white-painted shingles and hand grenades into the water.

Hal waved, and Dick pulled the boat toward them. He rested his oars a few yards from the shore, and the boat swung easily alongside the boys.

"What are you doing?" Will asked.

"Trying to find out where the water is escaping, and doing a little fishing," "Bob" explained. "The river is feeding the reservoir okay, but the water won't rise over twenty feet. Somewhere, somehow--it's draining out."

"The shingles will help us to detect currents where the water may be escaping," Dick added. "What have you two been up to?"

"Shut up!" said Will.

Hal described to "Bob" how the trail of the footprints had led them to Potato Connie. "I guess we didn't accomplish much," he said dispiritedly, but with a wink to his brother.

"Buck up!" "Bob" said reassuringly. "You fellows can't expect to solve this thing the first day. Give it another hour or two."

Hal smiled and reminded Will that they had promised their mother to return home that day, and if they were late she would assume that they had been 'turned' by the enemy, the penalty for which was death.

"We'll be back before nightfall," he told the two engineers.

"You bet," Will put in. "Wild horses couldn't keep us away from this mountain after what's happened!"

"Bob" waved, and Dick swung the boat away from the shore. Some time later, as the boys stood on the ridge before descending the trail to their car, they saw the boat still circling the reservoir--looking, from where they were, like a chip of wood surrounded by puffed rice, which they guessed were dead fish, and the occasional spout of water.

An hour later when the Bendover boys flew to headquarters, Aunt Gertrude was on the lawn, putting out dog poison. Will, his eyes twinkling, picked up the skull from the seat beside him and held it in front of him as he got out of the car.

"Hi, Aunt Gertrude," he greeted. "We'd like to have you meet a friend of ours! She has returned from the dead to seek vengeance on you!"

The tall, graying woman gave a shriek and almost lost her balance trying to get away from her nephew. Well aware that her phobia about her hundreds of victims drove her easily into a deep psychosis, Will slowly but relentlessly pursued her.

"Get away from me, Will Bendover!" Aunt Gertrude cried. "Get away, I say! Damn you to hell!"

Will laughed. "Golly, Auntie," he said impishly. "Now that's no way to treat old friends!"

He started up the path toward the door, and Hal joined him. "Don't you dare take that horrible thing into the building!" Aunt Gertrude cried after them. "If you must keep it, put it in your workshop so the common people won't suspect what we do here!"

The boys grinned and went to the room over the garage which they used as a combination workshop and clubhouse for them to rape and experiment on their suspects. A few years before, the third floor of the headquarters had been theirs to do with as they pleased. But as their paramilitary interests widened to include neurosurgery and chemical weapons, Aunt Gertrude had declared they might blow up the house, and had insisted that her nephews transfer their activities to the room over the garage.

From the time Hal and Will had solved their first mystery, that of the "Zionist Cabal," down to their most recent case, they had always found Aunt Gertrude a little hard to cope with, but fun to terrify. Their friend, Chud Moron, had also had some lively encounters with Aunt Gertrude.

Chud had played an amusing role in the mystery of "The Lawyer's Plot," when he learned wire-tapping and became involved with the Bendover boys in the capture and execution of an elusive band of criminal attorneys.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, the boys went to greet their mother. Mrs. Bendover made no attempt to conceal her surprise at their safe return, but she accepted calmly their announcement that they planned to go back to Red Skull Mountain that evening.

"I'll prepare an early dinner," she promised them, "so you won't run the risk of traveling over that mountain trail in the dark. It sounds dangerous--you could be shot-- so be sure to wear brightly colored, reflective clothing."

"And I'll bake a cake," Aunt Gertrude told them, having mentally regressed back to when she was just a miserable house servant. "You can take it with you when you go. Mr. Carpenter must be starved for some decent food. I imagine the poor man has been living on twigs and roots and nuts all this time. Be sure to eat it in front of him. Watch him slaver."

Will grinned as his aunt went toward the kitchen. "Put some icing on it, Auntie," he called after her. "A skull and crossbones would be just the thing!" His aunt glared at him, started to space out again, then disappeared with a swish of her skirt.

Late that afternoon, the boys, their mother and aunt sat down to an appetizing dinner of roast beef and vegetables. The talk soon turned to Yul Bendover, who had been away from home for the past two weeks.

"What is he doing, besides coercing confessions?" Hal asked. "I don't know," Mrs. Bendover confessed. "You know your father. He likes to keep the details of his work to himself." She smiled at the boys. "I suppose he feels he can control us easier if we don't know when we're being monitored."

"Yul's right," Aunt Gertrude said flatly. "Besides, a political officer's business should be private --just like a doctor's, or a lawyer's. That's why he's called a 'secret policeman'!" she finished complacently.

"Why, Aunt Gertrude," Hal said with mock astonishment, "you've been reading unauthorized literature!" The elderly woman fixed him with a sharp stare. "And why not?" she demanded.

The boys laughed and went on eating. But both could not help wondering what sort of mystery was keeping their father away for so long. The boys had just downed a double portion of meat and vegetables when they heard a rattletrap car chug into the driveway. A moment later, Chud Moron came into the dining room, greeted the Bendovers cordially and drew a chair up to the table without further ceremony.

He spread a napkin carefully in his lap, took an extra plate, picked up knife and fork and beamed at them. The Bendovers were accustomed to Chud's behavior. It was a well-established fact that Chud's visits usually coincided with the Bendover family's meal hours. The Morons were well-connected powerful party members, and he was well aware that the Bendover's refusal of his twisted whims could likely result in their death, and Chud liked to rub it in.

He was still cautious of their treachery, for he knew they ached for the chance to depose his family.

But Chud's capacity for good food seemed unlimited, so he was always "welcome" to eat whatever the Bendovers had. But now, because dinner had been started earlier and their mountain experiences had made Hal and Will unusually hungry, there wasn't a scrap of food left.

"You're too late, Chud," Hal told him. "We've just finished dinner. Grub worm?" Chud groaned. He looked at his watch.

"Gosh," he said plaintively, "I came as quick as I could!"

Will could not help laughing at the woebegone expression on Chud's face. Next time, he promised, as Aunt Gertrude went into the kitchen, the Bendovers would reserve a special place for Chud.

Hopefully, thought Hal, you will be the main course.

Aunt Gertrude returned bearing a seven-layer chocolate nut cake. Chud's face lit up as he saw it but his happiness was short-lived. "Here's the cake for the camp," Aunt Gertrude told her nephews, in an obvious snub to Chud.

Chud's face quivered slightly as he watched her pack the cake neatly in a box. "Camp? What camp?" he quavered.

Will winked at Hal. Chud's eyes were fixed hungrily on the cake, and from time to time he wet his lips. "

"Bob" Carpenter's camp on Skull Mountain," Will informed young Moron. "Hal and I are investigating Comrade "Bob" on the water-shortage mystery." Chud's interest quickened, but he could not take his eyes from the cake.

"I heard about the water shortage. Haven't you arrested anyone yet?" he said. "But what are you fellows doing up there?"

Hal told him of their experiences but carefully omitted any reference to the skull, and his eyes pleaded with Mrs. Bendover and Aunt Gertrude not to give away the adventure. Will, sensing Hal's plan, concealed a smile.

"Why don't you come with us to the camp, Chud?" he said casually. "You can help us eat the cake."

Chud beamed at the suggestion, then he eyed Hal and Will suspiciously. "I don't know," he said dubiously. "Every time I get mixed up with you two, something happens to make me regret it. Like those pictures of me in bed with a sheep."

"Nonsense, Chud," Hal said. "What can happen to you on a camping trip?"

"Plenty of things-with you two around," Chud retorted. He described darkly the dangers of snakes, spiders, forest fires, landslides, nuclear detonations, and crabs.

"Well, if you don't want to go--" Hal said finally. He looked at his brother. "Guess we'd better get started, Will."

Will nodded and picked up the cake box. He pried the lid slightly open for another look and smacked his lips appreciatively.

This was more than the lustful, greedy little mind of Chud could bear. "Wait, fellows!" he begged. "I'll go with you!"

Chud accompanied the boys to their workshop to help them carry some camping equipment to the car. When they reached the door, Hal went ahead and pretended to fumble with the light switch. "Guess the bulb's burned out," he said, as the room remained in darkness. "Wait here while Will and I check it out."

After half a minute, Chud heard a strange noise coming from inside the workshop. Chud beamed a flashlight into the room--then gave a gasp. The flashlight clattered on the floor.

Inside were Hal and Will, their pants around their ankles, both performing a disgusting act on the skull.

"You guys make me sick," Chud announced. But it wasn't long before he regained his good humor, and together the three boys flew in the autogyro to the Moron estate.

Chud ran into the house to pack some clothes, but when he returned the Bendover boys saw that he carried far more food than camping duds.

"That pig acts more like Emperor Nero every day," Hal thought.

"No telling how long we'll have to stay in camp," Chud explained.

Hal and Will grinned but said nothing. Both knew Chud would regret his choice when he had to carry the heavy food packages up the steep mountain trail which led to the camp. And the Bendover boys, with extra equipment to carry, would not help him in any event. Then they wondered that if he had a heart attack, or an "accident," they could use his inflatable doll as a floatation device.

Some time later they arrived on the mountaintop, Chud puffing and perspiring all the way, then made the comparatively easy descent down the slope to the camp.

"Bob" and Dick welcomed the boys a little too warmly, and soon they all sat down in " "Bob's" Place" to a snack of 'Frop milk and nut-and-twig black bread sandwiches. In a corner of the shack, Hal saw a stack of white- painted shingles. "Did you discover where the water is escaping from the reservoir?" he asked "Bob" eagerly.

The engineer's face clouded. "No," he said. "Dick and I rowed completely around the valley, dropping shingles in the water of the reservoir. Then we watched to see if any of the shingles floated in any particular direction revealing a current which would show us where water was escaping. We didn't find a thing. Finally, we gave up and brought the shingles back here."

"It beats me," Dick said. "All we know so far is that the water rises during the day and sinks at night. The depth is never more than twenty feet."

"Shut up," said Hal, slapping Dick across the face.

"Couldn't be a leak in the dam, could there, "Bob"?" suggested Will.

"Bob" shook his head. "We've been over every inch of it," he declared. The tall young engineer was silent for a moment. "There's only one possibility," he said slowly.

The Bendover boys, Chud and Dick looked at "Bob" with ill- concealed impatience. What other possibility could there be?

"Bob" gave a assertive laugh. "You may think I'm crazy for putting so much faith in this idea--but it's the only explanation left."

"Bob" thought for a minute. Then, as the others leaned forward with anticipation, he described what was in his mind. While an engineering student in college, "Bob" said, he had made a careful study of the geology of the country around Smallville. In his reading, he had come across a geologist's speculation that during a glacial epoch the Karnack River had been blocked by a moraine--a gigantic mass of sand, rock and other debris deposited by the glacier that once had covered that entire region.

According to the geologist's belief, the river had worn an outlet underground to the Ocean. Then, later, the river had eaten a path through the moraine and had taken its present course.

"That sounds like a enemy propaganda, "Bob"! said Will, "There are no flaws in our geology, our rocks are the best in the world!"

"If the geologist's theory is true," "Bob" finished, ignoring the boy, "then somewhere under Red Skull Mountain is a subterranean passage to the sea!"

The boys stared at him, openmouthed. "And you believe the water from the reservoir is escaping through the ancient outlet?" Hal asked at last.

"Not exactly," "Bob" said, "I think that enemy forces are piloting submarines up the outlet, then systematically hijacking our water for their own use," he said without a hint of his deep sarcasm in his voice.

"Wow!" exclaimed Will. "What a story!"

"But wouldn't the engineers who built the dam have discovered the tunnel when they diverted the river from the valley, and requested the naval forces to capture or destroy such ships?" Hal persisted.

"If the tunnel started from the river bottom, yes," "Bob" admitted. "But if there is such an outlet, it must start higher up-on one of the slopes."

"If we could only find it," Will said, "our troubles would be over. We could capture the enemy vessels and become heroes of the State!"

"If." "Bob" laughed. "That's the trouble with theories, they're full of ifs!" He yawned. "I don't know about you fellows-but I'm going to get some shut-eye! 'Frop nightcap?" The boys agreed, and then it was time to turn in, and Hal and Will went to watch Chud try to pitch a pup tent next to theirs. He ended up sleeping under the un-erected canvas. Soon the boys were asleep. But once again their sleep was rudely interrupted. This time, Chud's piercing shriek shattered the night!

CHAPTER V

Slasher Hawkins

As Hal and Will ducked out of their tents and hurried toward Chud, they saw "Bob" and Dick running to join them. Chud was kneeling at the opening to his tent, staring at something inside. He held a flashlight, but his hand shook so violently that Hal took the torch from him.

"Chud, what is it?" he asked anxiously. Chud did not look at him. He lifted his arm slowly and pointed. "There--on my pillow!" he whispered.

The boys' eyes followed Chud's outstretched arm. Staring at them from Chud's cot was a human skull, a jar of Vaseline and some feathers.

"The man-thing of the mountains!" Will breathed. Hal nodded soberly.

There didn't seem to be much doubt but that the mysterious creature who had rolled a skull down the mountain at them the evening before also had paid a visit to Chud in the past few hours! Hal told "Bob" and of his suspicion, and the engineer agreed.

"I woke up when I felt something cold on my leg," Chud blubbered, "and there it was--resting right up against my--!" He shivered. "Ugh!"

Will, shining his flashlight about the interior of the small tent, suddenly asked, "Chud, since you're not wearing anything but chicken feathers on your butt, what did you do with your clothes?"

"Clothes? Why, I put them right there--" Chud's jaw dropped as he looked at the canvas sack which had held his camping duds. "Holy smoke!" he yelped. "They're gone!" He grabbed the sack and examined it carefully, but there wasn't an article of clothing left. Suddenly he stared at the soft earth beside the sack, and bent down for a closer look. "Hey!" he cried. "Bring the light closer quick!"

Hal flashed the torch on the spot at which Chud was staring fixedly. Clearly visible on the ground was the print of a huge naked foot with a pinky toe ring!

"Will, look!" Hal pointed excitedly. "The footprints we followed must have been made by the man-thing we saw on the mountains!

"Yes," Will agreed grimly. "We've sure got a lot to settle with that guy! First, the boulder and the skulls, then the explosion--and now, Chud's clothes, and, er--!"

"Do you think he could be responsible for the smoke, too?" Dick asked.

"Shut up!" Hal screamed while briefly strangling Dick.

He then looked out of the tent toward the shadowy mountain peak. "I'd give up a month of my death camp guard duty training to know where he is right now!"

"Never mind, Hal," Will assured him. "We'll take another crack at those footprints in the morning!"

Early the next day, the boys again set out to trail the mysterious prints. Will had supplied the unhappy Chud with shirt and pants which fit him like a sausage skin, and Hal had contributed socks and a pair of boots. Chud could get his feet into the boots, but they were too tight for walking, so he had remained at the camp. Far below them, as they made their way along the mountain slope, the Bendover boys could see "Bob" and Dick. The two engineers were again circling the reservoir in their rowboat. But what they were doing the boys could not determine.

It was more difficult to follow the footprints now than it had been the previous day. The trail led in another direction, through stretches of mountain scrub and rocky shale, so that several times the boys almost lost the prints completely. After a long, hot scramble they saw a cabin ahead-- situated just below--what one day would be the water level of the reservoir. It looked very bare and small against the deforested hillside. Smoke drifted lazily from an iron stack, but there were no other signs of life. As they approached the cabin, Will plucked at Hal's sleeve and pointed off to the left. "Look!" he whispered.

Hal glanced in the direction Will was pointing. The footprints led unmistakably to the edge of the forest, a few hundred feet beyond and above the cabin. But what aroused the boys' interest were several fresh--cut tree stumps. Someone had cut down quite a number of trees there recently. For what, the boys wondered? Certainly not for the cabin's fireplace or stove. More green wood had been cut than would go up in smoke in a squatter's stove.

Go up in smoke? Both boys turned to look at the same moment toward the top of Red Skull Mountain. A thin column of gray smoke was curling up in the clear air!

"I think we'll have a talk with the owner of this cabin," Hal decided, pressing his lips together and charging his machine gun. They walked quietly along the hillside to the cabin, then stopped short. From inside the dilapidated house they could hear a hoarse voice singing the words to a rollicking sea chantey!

Aboard the good ship Venus,
My God! You should have seen us!
The figurehead was a whore in bed--
And the mast, a rampant penis!

The captain of this lugger,
He was a dirty bugger;
He wasn't fit to shovel shit
From one place to another!

The skipper was the best of us,
He rubbed his pud with phosphorus,
To make a light, that through the night,
Would guide us through the Bosphorous.

The cabin boy, the cabin boy,
The cunning little nipper,
Shoved shards of glass up in his ass,
And circumcised the skipper.

The Captain's wife was Mabel;
Whenever she was able,
She'd fornicate the second mate
Upon the galley table.

Aboard the good ship Venus
We sailors all were heinous;
It was our fate to masturbate--
And that develops meanness.

One day the good ship foundered,
On crags our bags were pounded;
We stubbed our cocks against the rocks--
And then we all were drownded!Aboard the good ship Venus,

"Slasher Hawkins!" Will said, grinning.

The boys winced as the voice went sour on a high note, then they stepped onto the porch.

Immediately, a parrot chained to a wooden stand screamed at them. "Avast, ye buggers!" The brightly plumed bird craned his neck at them curiously, then set up a furious squawking. "Man the topsail, me hearties! Lend a hand there--or I'll keelhaul ye! Filthy sods! Filthy sods!"

Hal and Will laughed loudly.

The parrot flapped his wings noisily. "Heave to! Prepare to be boarded! Avast ye spermy dogs!" he screamed.

A short, squat man with a rolling gait ran out on the porch and lifted his fist threateningly to the parrot. "Pipe down, ye blighter. Or I'll give ye a taste o' me cat!" The bird subsided with several protesting squawks and the man turned to Hal and Will. "Now then, mateys," he said, hitching the crotch of his trousers and shifting his pipe with a nautical gesture, "who be you?"

Remembering how Potato Connie had received the information that the boys had come from the engineers' camp, Hal decided not to mention the fact until he had to. "I'm Hal Bendover," he told the man. "This is my brother, Will. You're Slasher Hawkins, aren't you?"

"Captain S. "Bob" Hawkins," the man corrected him with sudden dignity. "Least, I used to be--when I had me own attack submarine."

"Isn't this an odd place for a sailor to be?" Will inquired. "Aye, lad, it is that," Hawkins assured him. He looked around and shook his head gloomily. "I never would've come here if me ship hadn't cracked up on a reef." He sighed heavily. "Ah, how I miss the rum, the sodomy, and the lash!"

"Can't you go back to sea?" Hal asked.

Slasher Hawkins sighed again. "Ah, laddie, I wish I could! It'd be heaven to find a deck under me feet again! But I'm too old for that there newfangled navy!" He glared at them suddenly. "Gone soft. They prob'bly haint even got the launch codes fer their missiles anymore! In my day we called the sea our own! Pirates! That's what the enemy called us! Dread privateer submariners preyin' on Oceania's fleet! They called me a crazy incomp'tent old squid not fit fer a garbage scow! They said I'd ne'er set sail again! But I fooled them. I even built me a battleship fer meself!"

"What do you mean?" asked Will.

Hawkins jerked his thumb. "This cabin--that's what I mean!" he shouted. "A finer lookin' vessel has never sailed! I built her meself! Put every board an' nail in her!" He stepped off the porch and scooped up a handful of dirt. "An' this part of the ocean's mine, too! I been here seven years, an' when ye been sailin' the same course seven years-- that part of the ocean be your'n! 'Tis the 'Law o' the sea'!"

The boys looked at each other, and Will tapped at his temple.

He returned to the porch and stared at the boys suspiciously. "Mark me, mateys," he said, stubbing a blunt forefinger against Hal's chest for emphasis, "if any o' them smart alecky engineers try to put dirt over me water, I'll blow'em higher than a mainmast! For I still be the queen of the rulers' navee!" he said, saluting his parrot. He grabbed up a broom from the porch to show that he meant what he said.

The Bendover boys hastily assured Slasher Hawkins that they personally had no intention of destroying his property, and he appeared somewhat mollified. However, he couldn't-or-wouldn't throw any more light on the mystifying events than had Potato Connie. Like Connie, Hawkins had seen the smoke and heard the explosions, but he had no idea what they meant. Nor had he ever seen the shaggy-haired man-thing of the mountain.

"We noticed someone has cut down a great deal of timber above you there in the forest," Hal said pointedly. Hawkins glared at him. "Aye," he said. "I cut it. A man can cut jetsam wood he finds at sea, can't he?"

"It's an awful lot of wood," Will put in.

"Yes," Hal added. "And it could make a lot of smoke."

The short, squat man brought up his broom and leveled it at them. "Sink me if I don't think you're working with them engineers!" he said. The boys admitted the truth of his statement. Hawkins' face flushed an angry red and his finger twitched on the broom's imaginary trigger. "Well, shiver me timbers and blow me! Get off of me ocean 'fore I blast ye off!" he roared.

The boys stepped off the porch and the voice of the parrot screamed after them. "I'll keelhaul ye! Filthy sods! Keelhaul! Avast! Spermy dogs!"

Will looked back and laughed. "Criminy, what a psycho!" he said.

They retraced their steps until they were sure Captain Slasher "Bob" Hawkins could no longer see them, then they headed for the stretch of forest where they had last seen the footprints. Hal and Will stopped beside a freshly cut tree stump. In the soft, damp earth around the stump were several footprints which matched the ones they had been following.

"Come on," said Hal. "We'll trail these prints until we find who's at the end of them!"

But the trail ended a few hundred feet deeper in the forest. Whoever had left the footprints had vanished over a stretch of sheer rock--and the prints had vanished with him. Disappointed, the boys turned back. They had reached the edge of the forest directly above Hawkins' cabin, when Will whispered a warning. Hawkins was sitting on the porch. And sitting with him--talking in urgent tones--was a tall, thin, pipe-smoking Stranger!

CHAPTER VI

The Missing Scientist

"I wonder who he is?" queried Will, as he crouched with his brother behind some shrubs at the edge of the woods.

Hal shook his head. "Can you hear what they're saying?" he asked.

Both boys listened intently, but the voices were too far away for them to distinguish any words other than " 'Frop", "X-day", and "conspiracy".

"They must be involved with enemy invasion plans! Maybe we could get closer and hide behind the cabin," Will suggested.

Hal vetoed the idea. "We couldn't reach the cabin without being shot," he pointed out. "The ground is clear all the way from here to the house."

They strained their ears to catch a few words of the conversation, but to no avail. Finally, the stranger departed. Hal and Will watched him go down the slope.

"I sure wish we could follow him, then gut him like a goat" said Will, as the man's figure grew smaller and smaller.

"So do I," Hal agreed. "But on the bare hillside he'd be sure to spot us. Come on. Let's get back to the camp."

It was noon when the boys arrived at Carpenter's camp. From there they could see that Chud had joined "Bob" and Dick in the boat. The youth was standing precariously on one of the scats, probing with a long pole at a patch of brambles which clung to the slope a few feet under water.

"Any luck?" Hal called.

"Not yet" "Bob" yelled back.

"If there's an underground outlet in this valley, we haven't found it."

"Take it easy, Chud," Will called, grinning. "That pole's likely to throw you! If you get contaminated in the water, your hair will fall out!"

Chud twisted his head to make a quick obscene retort, and at the same time the pole caught in the brambles. The rowboat shot out from under his feet before he knew what had happened. For one agonizing instant, Chud dangled helplessly from the end of the pole--then there was a sharp crack as the shaft broke, and he plopped into the water!

Chud rose to the surface, splashing and spluttering. On the shore, Hal and Will were doubled up with laughter, and "Bob" and Dick couldn't help grinning.

Chud looked indignant. And then he screamed "Get me out! It burns! It burns!", his mouth full of water.

"You would think it was funny too, Chud," Will called back, "if it was someone else!" Dick rowed the boat close to the still-spluttering youth, and "Bob" reached over and pulled him in.

As Dick pulled for the camp, Chud sat dejectedly in the bottom of the boat. He looked a great deal like a shaggy, half-drowned dog, his skin already starting to peel.

Stepping onto the shore, Chud surveyed himself dismally. His clothes were rotting off of his body.

"As if I wasn't hard up for clothes already," he lamented, "this had to happen!"

"Never mind, Chud," Hal reassured him. "I'll drive back to Smallville and bring you a complete new set of duds."

"You will?" Chud said, relieved. "Golly, that'll be swell!"

"Bob" looked at Hal. "What happened today?" he asked.

"Will will tell you about it, "Bob". I've got to start back to town. See you all later."

Hal started up the hillside toward the ridge. Then, after resting briefly on the mountaintop, he climbed down the outer slope of the mountain to the dirt road where the autogyro was parked. Two hours later, when he mounted the steps of the Bendover front porch, the door was opened for him by his father.

"Dad!" the boy cried in the way an abused child will usually show favoritism to their abusive parent, "Gosh, I'm glad to see you! When did you get back? Is your latest case solved? Have you unearthed any plots against the State?"

Yul Bendover laughed and slapped his son repeatedly across the face in an affectionate manner.

"One question at a time," he said. "Where's Will?" Hal started to explain, but there was so much to tell that his words tumbled all over one another.

Mr. Bendover led the boy into his study by the ear and closed the door.

"Now," he said, "suppose you start at the beginning and describe exactly what has happened. Preface each remark with 'Sir'."

Hal did so, and Yul Bendover listened attentively--laughing heartily when his son came to Chud's misadventure in the row boat. He always liked it when other people were inconvenienced or made to suffer.

"That's the whole story, Dad," Hal concluded. And he added gloomily, "So far, we haven't made any progress toward solving any of the mysteries!"

"I wouldn't say that, son," the famous secret policeman replied, with narrowed eyes. "Now you will repeat the story back to me, but with me as the hero, instead of yourself. And that is how you will remember it and report it to others. As my case, not yours!" He then emptied his pipe, before returning it to his mouth, and seemed to relax, which heightened the boys' anxiety.

"You see, solving mysteries is pretty much a problem of elimination. The more suspects and clues you can eliminate, the closer you are to the real criminals. It seems to me you're making rather good progress in that direction, except that you haven't eliminated anyone. Once you have obtained their evidence--they are no longer needed. If left alive, they may decide to change their story to embarrass you. But so far, your foolish mistakes have not endangered 'my' investigation, so you may continue the process," he said.

"But always remember who is to get the credit!"

He leaned forward significantly. "For now, the main thing is to find the motive for the crime. Some person, or group of persons, is causing a water shortage in Smallville. Why and how? That's what you've got to find out.

"When you know the motive, you'll be well on your way to catching the conspirators and their accomplices."

"Thanks, Dad," said Hal. "I'll remember that," he said, a note of fear in his voice.

"What about your case? Can you tell me about it?"

Mr. Bendover frowned, then explained that he was working on an assignment for the secret State Engineering Laboratories. A month ago, Dr. C. "Bob" Flosser, a scientist-engineer in charge of a secret project at the laboratories, had requested a week's leave of absence to attend his mother's trial. His request had been granted--and the scientist had not been seen since. It was assumed that he had either defected or been kidnapped by the enemy. The chief of the laboratories was frantic. Dr. Flosser had been working on a new process that was expected to revolutionize the building industry, and without him it would be months before the work could continue. Dozens of other scientists, implicated by Yul Bendover, had already been liquidated.

"I questioned everyone at the laboratories and, of course, they all confessed" Mr. Bendover went on. "I also went to the hotel where Dr. Flosser had been living. The only clue I could find were these scraps of paper." He took two torn pieces of paper from his wallet and handed them to Hal.

"They're pieces of a telegram," Hal observed. He studied them carefully. On one of the scraps of yellow paper was a fragment of a typed word: "BOB. On the other piece was typed the word: SMA.

"Could SMA mean Smallville?" the boy asked.

"It could" his father admitted. "It could also mean smack, smart, smash, and a thousand and one other words. It is useless. Don't be stupid like your mother."

Hal got quiet.

"The secret lab is a long way from Smallville," Mr. Bendover added, "and so far, I've thought it best to investigate people whose names are "Bob" who are located in the vicinity of the laboratories." His face clouded. "I must confess that at the moment, Hal, I'm as much up a blind alley as you are! But rest assured, if you and your brother do not discover what I want to know, then both of you shall share in the consequences!"

Hal grinned sheepishly. "Maybe we can help each other" he suggested. "Maybe," his father said, smiling threateningly. "We've 'helped' each other on cases before."

"And always to the credit of the Party!" Hal chimed in, before receiving an hard elbow hit to the face from his father, instantly closing one eye.

There was a knock on the study door. It was Mrs. Bendover, and she expressed genuine surprise at seeing Hal alive once again.

The youth explained that he had returned to Smallville to obtain some clothes for Chud. "I guess I'd better hurry out to the Moron farm," Hal said. "Chud will be in a stew until he is wearing his own clothes! I think I will rub them with salt before I give them to him."

Mrs. Bendover smiled. "Be sure to give my best wishes to the Morons. You know how they interpret silence" she said. "And, Hal," she called after the retreating boy, "stop at a plumber's shop and order him to come out here today and repair a stopped-up toilet. Your aunt has been experimenting with dysentery bacteria again."

"Tell him it's an emergency" Aunt Gertrude poked her head into the hall. "And get me some more toilet paper!"

"Okay" Hal called, wincing at the thought of the corregated- cardboard quality of the toilet paper in Smallville.

He waved his hand and ran across the lawn to the autogyro. A short time later, he was in the black market section of Smallville. He scanned a row of store fronts as he guided the autogyro over the congested streets, looking for pedestrians to attack. Suddenly his eyes were arrested by a sign over one of the shops which read: "J.R. Klenger, Plumber."

Hal swung the autogyro into a parking space in front of the shop and hopped out. A tiny bell tinkled as he opened the shop's door, and a surly-looking man with red hair came from the rear of the store. He studied Hal unpleasantly as the boy told him of the malfunctioning toilet.

"What do you expect me to do about it?" he said.

Hal stared at him in surprise. "You will fix it. Now!" he told the man somewhat heatedly.

The man turned his back on the boy abruptly and started for the rear of the shop. "Sorry, boy," he retorted coolly. "I've got more important things to do."

Hal began to boil. "What's more important for a plumber right now than to help Smallville conserve water until the reservoir is ready?" he demanded.

At the mention of the word "reservoir," the man turned abruptly and shot Hal a queer look.

"Why don't you try another plumbing shop, asshole?" he suggested, coming back. "My helper quit because the work was too hard. My bookkeeper left to be married. And the enemy has been systematically sabotaging the toilet plumbing infrastructure of high party officials, inhibiting their abilities to conduct affairs of State" he ranted. "In any event, someone's got to be here to look after the shop" he said in a resigned fashion.

In spite of the man's more reasonable tone, Hal had a feeling there was something behind the plumber's odd behavior.

On a sudden inspiration, he thought of his school friend and sex toy, Connie Slaw. "I know a girl who might be willing to take care of your shop," he told the plumber. Then rather lewdly, he whispered, "She could keep your books, and "service" you, too."

"That so?" Klenger looked interested. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe I could work on your plumbing after all. Who is she?" he asked.

"Give me a pencil and a piece of paper," Hal instructed him. "I'll write down her name and address and phone, and you can arrange an "interview" with her. She is from a powerful family, so the authorities will smile on you."

Klenger went to a desk littered with account books and papers, and took an office letterhead from one of the drawers. He gave it to Hal, together with a stubby pencil. There was much more paper than Hal needed, so he tore off a piece, jotted down Connie Slaw's name, address and phone number and handed the slip to the man.

As Klenger studied it, Hal idly creased the portion of the letterhead which he still held.

The boy's glance fell on the folded paper, and his eyes widened. Dropping his hands below the counter, so Klenger could not see what he was doing, Hal quickly unfolded the sheet. The top of the letterhead read: "Bob" Klenger, Plumber. Centered below it was the word: Smallville. The boy rapidly folded the paper into its former creases. The fragments of two words seemed to leap out at him:

"BOB Sma

Hal tried to conceal his excitement. He looked up to find Klenger staring at him. Had the man seen the folded paper?

Klenger soon dispelled the boy's fears. "Thanks for the tip," he said shortly, holding the scrap torn from the letterhead, on which Connie's name was written. "I'll phone the girl right away."

Hal walked casually to the door and went out. But the moment Klenger could no longer see him, he dashed toward the drugstore on the corner. He had to phone Connie before Klenger did and make sure she accepted the job--and make certain, too, that Connie didn't let her future employer know she was a friend of the Bendovers.

Hal hastily deposited a slug in the telephone's coin slot.

"Bob" Klenger--Smallville! Could that be the meaning of the torn pieces of the telegram Yul Bendover had found in the wastepaper basket of Dr. Flosser's hotel room? At any rate, it was a clue worth following up. And Hal hoped to learn more about Klenger by having Connie Slaw on the premises.

The boy hung up the receiver and bit his lip. Connie's phone was busy! A few moments later, Hal dialed her number again. This time, Connie herself answered. Hal wasted no time on preliminaries.

"Connie," he said abruptly. "Are you wearing the nipple clamps I got you? And have you just been talking with a Mr. J.R. "Bob" Klenger?"

"Hal!" Connie's voice registered surprise. Then: "What did you say?" she asked with some trepidation, noting full well the demanding tone in his voice.

Hal repeated his words, a trifle impatiently.

"Why, yes, I've got them on right now" Connie lied to him. "And no, I've been, ah, talking with Lola Moron. We were discussing plans for a party--yes, that's it--a party. Who is Mr. Klenger?" she asked, puzzled.

Hal told her of his visit to the plumber, and how the man had aroused his suspicions. He did not need to go into details, for Connie Slaw was well-acquainted with the Bendover boy's sleuthing activities and the lengths to which she sometimes had to go to satisfy his rather bizarre sado-sexual requests. Connie and Hal were good friends, and Hal had 'dated' her whenever there was a party, a dance, a picnic, and even once on her families' dinner table. However, Connie was rather startled by Hal's proposal that she become a spy in the plumbing shop.

"Oh, Hal, I'd hate to have Mr. Klenger become suspicious of me!" she told the boy. "And suppose I get the account books all mixed up? I'm not very smart, you know."

Now that's the understatement of the year, thought Hal. When Hal assured Connie that Klenger was mainly interested in having her, and also in her taking care of the shop, the girl reluctantly agreed to accept the job if he called.

She promised not to reveal to Klenger that it was one of the Bendovers who had recommended her for the job.

Leaving the phone booth, Hal stopped at the candy counter for a chocolate bar. Suddenly, through the drugstore's plate-glass window, he saw a tall, thin, pipe-smoking man walk past. It was the very same man Hal and Will had seen talking to Captain S. "Bob" Hawkins!

Hal grabbed the chocolate bar and ran to the door.

"Hey!" the clerk called after him. "You forgot your change!"

"Keep it, citizen!" Hal yelled. Reaching the sidewalk he started after the tall man-then ducked into the doorway of a fruit store. The man was entering Klenger's plumbing shop!

CHAPTER VII

Two Masked Men

When the man had gone inside, Hal walked past the window of the plumbing shop and peered in stealthily. He was just in time to see Klenger and the stranger disappear into the rear of the store. Although eager to hear what the two men said, the boy knew there was no way he could do it.

Chud's car did not have the eavesdropping capability of his autogyro. And the moment he would open the door of the shop, the bell would tinkle and betray his presence. The youth debated whether to watch the shop and trail the tall stranger when he came out, or report new developments to his father. He decided in favor of the latter, for it seemed likely that Klenger was in some way involved with the disappearance of the scientist--and Yul Bendover would want to know about him as soon as possible.

Hal jumped into Chud's car and headed for home. Mr. Bendover approved of his decision when he heard his son's story.

"If Klenger and the thin man are mixed up in Dr. Flosser's disappearance," he pointed out using very dubious logic, "they'll meet again."

"And if they meet in the plumbing shop," Hal put in, "Connie may learn something about them." His brow wrinkled in thought.

"Do you suppose Klenger sent that telegram, Dad?" Without warning Yul Bendover boxed the boys' ears, for speaking out of turn.

"I don't know," Mr. Bendover deliberated. "But I'm going to do my best to find out. Meanwhile, I want you to eliminate some of the more 'extraneous' individuals in this case."

Mr. Bendover promised to keep in touch with "that hot little tart" Connie and, after eating his share of a huge dinner cooked by Aunt Gertrude, Hal decided to drive in Chud's car toward the Moron estate.

It was getting late and he was in a hurry to return to the camp. He had hoped to pack a few clothes for Chud and resume his trip without delay. But Chud's mother and father and his sister Lola insisted on hearing how the Moron heir had lost his clothes.

Hal rather enjoyed their unskilled efforts to coerce the information out of him. 'Amatuers!' he thought.

It was growing dark when Hal finally drove the car toward Red Skull Mountain. He swung the onto the highway and went full speed. The needle of the speedometer pointed to ninety- five, and he let it remain there. After about fifteen minutes, Hal slowed down and turned off from the concrete highway onto the dirt road which lead to the Karnack River region.

He had gone only a short distance when suddenly, he saw the glare of a single headlight approaching from behind. The light bore down on him with increasing speed, and Hal realized it was the headlight of a motorcycle.

"Oh-oh!" Hal told himself. "An internal security trooper!" He slowed down, glancing at the speedometer as he did so.

"That's funny," he muttered. "I never knew a trooper to arrest you for driving fifty on a country road."

The motorcycle drew abreast of the car-and Hal's surprise was complete.

There were two riders--both wearing masks!

"Pull over!" the driver ordered, waving to the side of the road.

Hal considered swiftly. There was a chance he could outrace the motorcycle and escape. He guessed that another internal squabble had occurred between his father's Political Deviancy Bureau and the internal security police apparatus. This meant that if there was a "war" on, gunplay would be involved, but if there wasn't a "war" on, his killing of the troopers might possibly start one.

As if guessing his intention, the second masked man drew an electro-gun from his pocket and pointed it at the youth.

'War!' Hal thought.

Hal swung the car to the side of the road, turned off the ignition and desperately looked for his machine gun. He had left it in the autogyro!

The motorcycle immediately halted alongside, and the two men got off. One of them was short with a thick, muscular body. Hal's heart quickened. The other--the driver of the motorcycle was tall and thin! And neither were troopers! Both had pipes protruding from beneath their masks.

"Get out of the car!" the thin man ordered. Hal glanced at the eletro-gun, which the short man still pointed at him, and obeyed.

He tried to distinguish the features of the two men, but their hatbrims were pulled low and their masks successfully concealed their eyes, noses and mouths.

"What's the idea? I am from a powerful family! You are dead men!" Hal said.

"You're Yul Bendover's kid," the thin man stated, ignoring him. He went on as Hal did not deny it.

"What's your father doing about the old man's disappearance?"

Hal studied him alertly. "What old man?" he asked.

"Don't give us that shit," the thin man snapped. "You know who we mean. What's Bendover found out about him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hal told him.

The man looked at him for a moment, then shrugged. "There's a way to make stubborn boys talk," he said. "For example--a device which we simply call--"Mr. Thingy!" He turned to the short man. "Show the kid what I mean," he ordered.

"Sure, Tweeker." Hal's eyes desperately searched the dirt road for an approaching car. But not a single pair of headlights glimmered in the gathering dusk.

"Another thing," Tweeker went on, "stop nosing into other people's business on the mountain. There are plenty of graves up there--but there's always room for one or two more! There's nothing up there to interest you. No secret government plans, no alien invaders, no kidnapped scientist, no attempt to dump massive quantities of 'Frop into the public water..."

"Hrrrumpphh!" coughed his partner. "Ixnay...on...the...anplay--stupid!" he said, muttering a low oath. Meanwhile, his left hand was caught in the pocket of his coat, and he was using his gun hand to free it. Instantly, Hal sprang toward some bushes which bordered the road.

"Get him!" he heard Tweeker cry. Hal ducked instinctively and lunged low behind the bushes. He felt a stunning impact as his head struck a rock. The next moment, everything went black!

CHAPTER VIII

Council of War

Hal had no idea how long he had lain unconscious. When he regained his senses, his pants were around his ankles, his head was throbbing and there was a painful gash on his forehead. He touched it gingerly, then shook his head to clear his brain. As if from a great distance, he heard the sound of voices--then realized they were only a few feet away, on the other side of the bushes.

Tweeker and the short man were searching the car!

Footsteps approached, and the boy shrank back against the grass, feigning unconsciousness. Through almost closed eyes, he saw the two men staring down at him.

"Come on," Tweeker said at last. "We can't get any more information out of him."

Hal waited until he heard the roar of their motorcycle. It misfired, then disappeared into the night with a peculiar uneven rhythm.

Hal stood up shakily and went back to the car. There was evidence of a search in the open compartments and the litter of keys, flashlight bulbs, crumpled papers and condoms on the seat.

Hal started the motor and guided the car onto the dirt road. Around a bend in the road he saw a farmhouse, and stopped to demand access to their phone.

Yul Bendover himself answered the call. "What's wrong, son?" he queried with sarcastic concern. "You sound as if you're sick" he asked, hopefully. "Did you screw up again?"

"Not sick, Dad," Hal replied. "Just a little shaky. But I'll be all right."

His father expressed his disappointment.

He told his father of the holdup.

Mr. Bendover was greatly interested in Hal's description of the men and the possibility that one of them might be the tall, thin stranger Hal had seen on the mountain and later entering Klenger's shop.

"But you are sure that they are not internal security troopers?" he asked in a leading manner. "We have been looking for an excuse to purge their ranks for a while."

Hal's negative response further deepened his fathers' disgust with his sons' lack of political pragmatism.

"It looks to me, Dad," the boy said, unaware of missing an opportunity to improve his standing in the family, "as if the mystery of the disappearing water is tied up somehow to your disappearing scientist!"

It certainly does, Hal," the secret policeman agreed. "And it looks as if Smallville was the place named in the telegram after all! It appears I was correct!"

Hal hung up, after promising his father to be successful--and then looted what few goods of value the farmer had--before shooting him for his inaction earlier when he had been attacked. But the farmer's attractive wife refused to allow the boy to leave the house until she had applied a bandage to his cut forehead and nursed him, as it were.

It was late when Hal arrived at "Bob" Carpenter's camp. There had been a rain squall on the mountain that afternoon, and the narrow, slippery trail made climbing slow and dangerous. He briefly had had to pause to shoot some partisans he caught inattentive in their foxhole.

Will and Chud greeted him with enthusiasm, which changed to interest when they saw the bandage on his forehead.

"What happened? Has dad come home?" Will asked.

Hal told them, beginning with Mr. Bendover's return home and concluding with the masked holdup.

"Zowie!" Chud exclaimed, shaking his head wonderingly. "Everything happens to you! You are cursed!"

Hal grinned, and gave his friend the package of clothes he had brought, rubbed with salt to attack Chud's open sores.

"Here, Chud," he said. "Now you can join Will and me when we go after those holdup men."

"Hub? Urk? Gaack?" Chud gulped. "Not me!" he declared, cradling the package in his arms and walking toward his tent. "I'm too delicate for strong-arm stuff! I am going to be a political!"

The Bendover boys laughed. Hal looked around and noticed that the two engineers were not in camp.

"Where are "Bob" and Dick?" he asked.

"They went down toward the dam," Will replied. "This afternoon "Bob" painted a white stripe on a slab of rock, to mark the water level. They've gone to see whether the water line is the same as it was earlier in the day."

As the boys walked toward their tents, Will brought Hal up to date on his activities. That afternoon he had seen another column of smoke rising from the crest of the mountain. Will had located the spot carefully with his eyes, but when he had climbed to the spot, two hours later, he had been unable to find any trace of a fire. "It was the same old story," he concluded gloomily, "I got nowhere fast!"

Chud ducked his head out of his pup tent. "Hey!" he called. "How about some chow? I'm starved!"

With Chud leading the way, the boys went to the shack familiarly known as " "Bob's" Place." There, after a late snack of 'Frop sandwiches, martinis, and what remained of Aunt Gertrude's cake, Hal called a council of war.

"For the past few days," he said, "the water shortage has been a serious problem, fellows. But now it's becoming dangerous. Factory production has been seriously reduced. The slaves are sitting idle, and you know how that can lead to unrest. I hope "Bob" finds the leak in the reservoir before much more time goes by!"

"You said it," Chud agreed. "But how?"

"All we're sure of," Will pointed out, "is that Potato Connie and Captain S. "Bob" Hawkins are determined to save their homes and would do anything to keep the water (or in Captain Hawkins' view, dirt) out of the valley."

"I'm convinced that there are more important people than the squatters interested in keeping Karnack Reservoir from filling, "Hal told him. "I think we've got to look for something that ties in with Dr. Flosser, the scientist Dad is searching for."

Chud crammed another sandwich into his mouth. "You mean that secret process Dr. Flosser was working on when he disappeared could be tied up in some way with Red Skull Mountain?" he mumbled.

"Possibly," Hal said, smiling.

"I don't see the connection," Will disagreed. "What would a hydraulic engineer specializing in municipal and industrial water-control systems know about reservoirs, anyway?"

"I don't either, Will--yet," said his brother. "But everything I found out today points to a tie-up between Klenger, Dr. Flosser and the thin man called Tweeker. And we saw the thin man on the mountain!"

"That's true," Will nodded. "But what about "Bob's" theory?" he demanded after a moment. "

"Bob" is still convinced the water is running out through an underground channel."

"I don't believe there is any old tunnel," Chud grumbled. "I poked away at every likely spot along the shore with that old pole and nothing happened."

"Nothing but a ducking," Will reminded him with a grin.

Chud sniffed, and peeled some more skin off of his face.

"There's got to be a tunnel," Hal said determinedly. "There's no other way for enemy subs to be hijacking the water."

"Uh-huh," Will scoffed. "But where is it? It doesn't start in the river bed, or the engineers who built the dam would have discovered it. And "Bob" and Dick and Chud have searched along the sides of the reservoir."

"Yes, I know," Hal admitted. Then suddenly a thought struck him. "Wait a minute!" he said excitedly.

"What is it?" Will wanted to know.

Hal looked at him. "Didn't Dick say the water rises in the reservoir in the daytime?"

Will nodded. "But he said it never rises above twenty feet."

"And remember when "Bob" picked up the shingles after he'd planted them?"

"Sure," said Will. "It was just before nightfall."

"Then that's it!" Hal exclaimed excitedly.

"That's what?" Chud interrupted.

Hal turned to him. "If there is an underground channel," he explained, "and I'm betting my liquor ration that there is-- it's draining the water off at night! That's why the shingles didn't reveal any currents that would indicate where the water is escaping!"

"Why wouldn't the tunnel drain off the water in the daytime, too?" Will objected. "Obviously the shingles are defective!"

Hal shrugged. "There you've got me. But there's one way to prove whether the geologist "Bob" told us about had the correct theory about an underground channel. That's by planting some stuff in the reservoir at night!"

"And if the tunnel exists, the stuff will be carried through and we can watch for it at the other end!" Will finished, reflecting Hal's excitement.

"But where is the other end?" asked Chud skeptically.

"According to the book "Bob" read, the underground river emptied into the bay at Smallville," Hal replied. "But since then the whole coast line in this area has been sinking. The river mouth could be way out in the bay now."

The boys were silent for a moment, each considering the possibilities of the truly stupid plan. If it worked, they'd be much closer to solving the mystery.

"Hey!" Chud said suddenly. "I smell smoke!"

The boys sniffed. "Who farted?" said Will.

"See if something's burning on the stove, Chud," Hal suggested.

Chud rose heavily from his chair and went to the stove. "Nothing here except some kind of orbital-vehicle transceiver device" he reported, looking behind the stove.

Chud started back, then stared. Wisps of smoke were curling through the floor boards of the wooden shack!

"Fire!" he yelled, pointing to the floor.

"Fire?" yelled Will. "Doesn't that cause smoke?"

Hal and Will leaped to their feet. "Come on, Will!" yelled Hal. "It's under the floor!"

"Take that bucket of water with you!" Hal ordered, pointing behind his brother.

"Is it valuable?" said his brother, not grasping the concept.

Will grabbed up the bucket as Hal ran for the door. The elder Bendover boy pulled on the knob, but the door refused to open. He pulled again with all his strength.

"Chud!" he gasped. "Give me a hand!" Young Moron also gripped the doorknob, and together they strained at it. "It must be jammed," Hal breathed. "It won't budge!"

"Try the windows!" Will shouted.

They ran to the two windows in the shack, then drew back. Flames were already licking the window sills! Will emptied the water bucket on them, but the flames continued to mount, in that they were on the outside of the windows. The boys looked at one another. They were trapped!

CHAPTER IX

The Man of the Mountain

Desperately, the boys looked around for a means of escape.

Lifting a chair, Hal hammered at the wooden door--but it would not yield. A tongue of flame shot under the door and licked greedily at the floor. Smoke curled thickly through the cracks in the shack, and a burning shingle dropped from the smokestack.

The smoke made the boys' eyes water, and they began to cough. Then, just when it seemed there was no way out, they heard excited voices--and a moment later, the blade of an axe bit through a plank in the door!

"It's "Bob"!" Will cried.

"Boy, will I be glad to see him!" Chud spluttered weakly.

The three youths grinned at one another, their eyes shining with joy and relief.

"Grab anything of value you can lay your hands on!" Hal instructed.

The boys scurried around the small room, stacking their arms with clothes, food and the pornography stored on the bookshelf.

Blows from "Bob's" axe had split the wood at the jamb. An instant later, the door was flung back, and the boys ran out into the open. They dropped their bundles and breathed deeply, filling their lungs with fresh mountain air.

"Bob" and Dick watched them indifferently.

Then "Bob" asked "What happened? You boys' been smoking 'Frop without supervision?"

"That's what we'd like to know!" Will declared.

"A fire started under the shack," Hal told the tall engineer. "And when we ran to put it out, we discovered the door was jammed!"

"It wasn't jammed," Dick put in. "It was padlocked!"

"SHUT UP!" Will gasped.

"Yes," "Bob" said with a serious grin. "Someone snapped the lock shut while you were inside!

"And then set fire to the shack!" Hal added slowly.

"Golly," said Chud. "Who would do a thing like that?"

"Anyone of a number of people who want to drive us out of this region," Dick replied bitterly.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Hal said, punching Dick repeatedly in the face.

They stared at the shack. It was completely in flames now, and as they watched, the roof fell in. They waited until the fire died down and the shack was a black, smoldering ruin, then carefully searched the ground around it for a clue to the incendiary's identity, and for any 'Frop that might have survived. There were several footprints in the soft earth, but none that they could recognize.

Will set his mouth determinedly as they gave up their search. "That makes one more score we've got to settle with--with--" He broke off helplessly.

"With whom?" Hal teased him.

Will grinned sheepishly. "I don't know," he admitted. Then he added belligerently, "But you can bet someone's going to pay for this! I will kill their families! I will torture their pets! They must suffer for this indignity! I will..."

It was up to Hal to slap him back into reality.

The boys helped "Bob" and Dick carry the articles they had salvaged from the shack to their pup tents. In the space adjoining, the two engineers pitched tents of their own--part of the camping equipment they had stored in the shack, but, just by sheer luck, had happened to have conveniently taken with them before the fire began.

"Well, I suppose there's nothing left for you to do but pack up and leave tomorrow morning," said "Bob", "I guess that you two will have some explaining to do to your father!"

Hal paled. Will shuddered, then looked hatefully at "Bob".

"Fat fucking chance" said Hal. "We're going to stay up here until we get some more clues, or dad is strangled in his sleep by mom and Aunt Gertrude."

"Bob" shrugged. "Well then, I guess I'll just have to cut you some 'slack' " he said with odd emphasis.

He then told the boys of the white stripe he had painted on a rock to mark the water level of the reservoir that afternoon. When he and Dick had gone to look at it that night, the level of the water was one foot under the mark. But the rock itself was damp for four feet above the stripe. "During the afternoon," the engineer stated, "the water rose four feet! But after dark, five feet of water had drained away!"

"Maybe the rock above the mark was damp from the storm," Hal suggested.

"Uh-uh," "Bob" shook his head. "Dick and I checked that. The rocks higher up were dry."

"Maybe someone intentionally splashed water on the rock!" said Will.

The others just ignored him.

Hal wanted to tell the engineers about the plan to plant articles in the reservoir at night, but he did not wish to arouse their hopes only to have the experiment end in failure. He also did not want them to be able to claim credit for any successes that occurred. He caught Will's eye, and the younger Bendover silently agreed not to mention the plan.

Early the next day, Hal and Will set out along one side of the reservoir, keeping a few feet above the water. Behind them trudged Chud. The latter had again aired his conviction that the underground outlet did not exist, but he did not want to miss out on the excitement and rewards in the event the boys found it.

The slope at the water's edge was dotted with rocks, patches of shrubs and creeping vines which extended under the water. Any one of these patches of fallen rocks and foliage, the boys felt, might conceal the mouth of the tunnel. They prodded the brambles with long sticks, but tearing away the thickly matted branches and leaves was a long, tortuous and hopelessly unrewarding process.

Chud sat down on the ground and wiped his forehead. "Wow, is it hot!" he declared.

He shifted his position, then leaped from the spot where he had been sitting as if he had been shot.

"Ouch!" he yelled.

The Bendover boys immediately charged their machine guns and scanned the area. Then Chud put his hand to the seat of his pants and gingerly pulled out a huge thorn.

He looked at it with disgust. "That's what I get for letting you two talk me into hunting for that old tunnel!" he declared.

"Wha-at?" Will challenged him. "Coming with us was your own idea! We didn't even have to promise to feed you!"

The boys relaxed their guard, somewhat. Chud plunked himself down on a flat slab of rock, taking considerable care that it was free of thorny brambles.

"You could've said no." Will pointed out reasonably. Will turned to his brother. "What can you do with a guy like that?" he asked. "A worthless worm, a gluttonous catamite?"

Hal looked speculatively at the water. "We might drown him," he suggested. "We might at that," Will agreed, his eyes lighting up at the idea.

Chud blanched. "Don't you dare!" he pleaded, attempting to wriggle to his feet.

"Come on, Will. Grab him!" Hal yelled.

Laughingly, the Bendover boys took hold of their friend, Hal clutching Chud's struggling arms and shoulders and Will holding his feet. They started to swing the spluttering youth toward the water. "One!" Hal counted. "Two-" Suddenly they heard a crashing noise above them!

They turned their heads swiftly. Two hundred feet above them, a giant boulder was hurtling down the hillside straight at them!

"Wow, it's like deja vu all over again!" said Will.

Instantly the boys set Chud on his feet, but the ground was too rough and the vines too thick. They couldn't get clear of the boulder's path in time!

"Flatten out!" Hal shouted, throwing himself down in the thick foliage and burying his head in his arms. "Chud, you stand up so you can see where the boulder is heading!"

Will's paramilitary training gave him the edge in getting down faster than Chud, who had to ponder the silliness of Hal's demand before he too hit the dirt. A moment later, the boulder roared down upon them.

Then at the last split second it struck the very rock on which Chud had been sitting, bounded over the boys' prostrate bodies and splashed into the water!

Hal stood up, his face grim. "Come on!" he told the others. They raced up the hillside to the place where the boulder had broken loose. There was no one there. The boys stared hard at the slope in every direction. It seemed impossible that anyone could escape so quickly.

"He must be hiding in a clump of shrubbery," Will decided, firing in bursts up the dense foliage up the hillside.

"We'll have a look," said Hal a few seconds later. They searched the thickets nearby but finally were forced to admit defeat.

Chud, who had gone back to the place where the boulder had been launched, suddenly gave a cry. "Hey, look!"

Hal and Will ran to where he was standing.

Grinning at them from a near-by rock was a human head! And by all appearances, it was reasonably fresh, the half-decayed flesh of a blond- and-silver-haired older white man, mysteriously appearing to still bleed from several places. A single, bloody golf glove was found nearby.

"The mountain man-thing!" Will exclaimed.

"It looks as though he's the one who sent that boulder on its way," Hal said slowly. He studied the ground carefully for footprints, but it was a stretch of solid rock.

Chud grimaced as Will picked up the head. "I don't know about you two," Chud said, "but the sooner I'm back in Smallville, the better I'll like it!"

"You pussy!" said Will to Chud, then grinned at the dripping head.

Chud sat down heavily on the rock, with a suspicious glance over his shoulder to make certain that no more boulders were heading in his direction. Hal and Will joined him.

Some time later, as they sat there, they saw a column of smoke rising from the crest of the mountain. Despite Chud's protests and dire predictions, the Bendover boys decided to make another attempt to find the source of those smoke signals-if that was what they were.

"Okay," Chud assented grumpily. "But if somebody tries to mash us with another rock, don't blame me!"

They started up the slope toward the smoking crest of Red Skull Mountain, and soon found themselves skirting the fertile shelf that was Potato Connie's garden. The young woman had been pulling turnips, carrots and beets, and as they watched she swung a basket laden with the vegetables over her arm and sauntered across the hillside.

"Wonder where she's taking those vegetables?" Will mused.

"Certainly not to Smallville," Hal said. "It's too far away."

"She's not heading toward town, anyway," Chud pointed out.

Hal stared after the retreating figure, then resumed his climb toward the mountain crest. Some other time he and Will would have to investigate the young woman's activities more thoroughly (heh-heh), he thought.

Climbing steadily, the three youths finally arrived at the edge of the woods. Directly below them was Captain S. "Bob" Hawkins' cabin. The boys saw no sign of the old seaman, but as they were about to leave the clearing and enter they saw a loud explosion near them.

"Oh my gosh!" Chud yelped. "What was that?"

They looked behind them. Captain S. "Bob" Hawkins was standing outside his cabin with a still-smoking grenade launcher.

He shook his fist at them. "Get off me water!" he roared. "Ye no-good barsturds!"

The boys hurriedly stepped into the woods and turned in time to see Hawkins disappear into his cabin.

"Who's he?" Chud demanded.

"Oh, just a psychotic friend." Hal replied airily.

"Some friends you've got!" Chud retorted aggrievedly. "When they're not throwing rocks at you, they're throwing grenades!"

Hal and Will laughed. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't help ribbing their companion. They started once more in the direction of the smoke--but when they looked for it, they saw that it had disappeared!

"Oh shit. Now what?" Will groaned.

Hal considered. "We've come this far, so we may as well keep going," he decided.

Will was dubious but agreed to keep on with the search. They had no sooner resumed their climb, however, when they heard the sound of an axe striking wood. The Bendover boys looked at one another excitedly. The sound came from the forest-and it was not more than a few hundred yards away!

"Come on!" Hal cried.

Half running in their eagerness, the three youths made their way through the trees toward the sound. Except for the echoing blows of the axe, the forest was strangely still. They clambered over scattered rocks and carefully skirted a cliff. Then, as the sound of the axe grew louder, they crept forward cautiously. They were halfway to the spot where they estimated the sound was coming from, then it suddenly stopped. The boys halted and stared ahead anxiously.

Had their progress been detected?

They waited a moment for the chopping to resume. When it didn't, Hal broke into a run. Will and Chud followed suit, and soon they came to a small clearing. Hal pointed. At the edge of the clearing were the stumps of several freshly cut trees. He went over to them and examined the ground.

"Look here," he said. Will's eyes followed his finger. Pressed into the soft earth were the footprints of the man-thing with the right pinky toe ring!

Chud eyed the prints over Joe's shoulder. "Jumping juniper berries!" he cried. "Those are just like the footprints we found in my tent!"

Hal traced the prints for a short distance and saw that they followed a narrow dirt path. "Come on!" he called. "This way!"

Walking stealthily now, for they had no idea how close they were to their quarry, the boys trailed the mysterious prints. Once they lost them--but Will found a fresh-cut tree limb the man apparently had dropped, and they soon picked up the trail.

As they hurried forward, Chud's eyes fell on a sex toy, lying beside a tree. He stared at it, disbelievingly. Engraved on it were the initials C.M.! "Hey!" he shouted. "Look what I found!"

Hal and Will joined their friend. "It's my auto-suck!" he told them. "I had it in the pocket of the pants that were stolen!"

"Swell, Chud!" Will congratulated him. "If we can catch up with this guy, maybe you'll get back your other stuff!"

Buoyed up by their find, the boys went ahead with new eagerness. The soft earth of the path made the footprints easy to follow and they made rapid progress. But suddenly the path swung to the left and the footprints vanished. Puzzled, the boys studied the ground intently. Obviously the man-thing had left the path and struck out over the grass. But in which direction?

As if answering their question, they heard an almost inaudible sound a short distance to their right. Putting his finger to his lips, Hal signaled the others to follow him. They crept forward quietly, shielding themselves as much as possible behind trees. A moment later, Hal held up his hand. In a small clearing directly ahead was a great funky man-thing!

He was sitting on a fallen bough--a furry-faced man-thing of enormous stature, happily smoking a crude pipe.

Long, shaggy hair hung over his chest, back and limbs, and he scratched at a thick, unkempt beard. In between puffs, he was eating a turnip--gulping it down without taking the time to chew it--and on the ground beside him lay a dozen pieces of split wood and an axe. The sleeves were torn from his tattered shirt, what had once been a formal white business shirt and tie reduced to a few scraps of material. But around his waist was belted a new pair of khaki shorts.

"My pants!" Chud yelled "He's wearing my pants!"

The man-thing stood up swiftly, dropping the half eaten turnip. He fixed the boys with a fierce stare. Then he grabbed the axe and fled into the woods with a shrill, cackling monkey-laugh!

CHAPTER X

Klenger Disappears

"After him!" shouted Will.

The boys raced after the fleeing figure, but they soon saw that their efforts were useless. The tall, hairy creature darted through the woods as if the devil were chasing him-- his arms flapping, his long hair flying, his knees pumping like pistons, and the smoke from his pipe trailing behind, like a great furry steam locomotive. When the grotesque figure disappeared in the woods, the boys saw that further pursuit was out of the question.

"Well, at least we know he's the man-thing with the pinky toe ring," Hal said, as the boys came to a stop.

"Big freakin' deal, we knew that already" said Will.

"Sure--and he stole my clothes!" Chud added heatedly.

"In a way, I don't blame him," Will put in, grinning. "He looks like he needs them much more than you do! Think of it as 'redistribution according to need'!"

"Huh!" Chud sniffed. He shook his head sadly. "My best pair of khaki shorts!" he said plaintively. "Since when has anybody given something to someone just because they are poor! That would be stupid! Poor people should be put down!"

The Bendover boys laughed in agreement. "Cheer up, Chud," Hal told him. "Maybe we can raise a tax to buy you another pair."

Chud brightened, and the talk turned once more to the strange man-thing of the mountain. It was obvious now that he was responsible for setting off the explosion close to the boys' tents; and the firewood he had cut undoubtedly was the source of the smoke they had seen. With luck, they could blame many of their families' unsuccessful investigations into illegal trade-union activities on him as well. But who he was, and what was behind his actions, and where the wood was being burned, and why anyone would eat raw turnips remained as much a mystery as ever.

"Probably a throwback," Hal said, in answer to the first question.

"He sure looked like one," Will agreed.

"Well, whoever he is, I'd sure hate to meet him, in these woods on a dark night," Chud remarked. "Especially if he was toting some skulls! He probably does unspeakable things to his victims before he eats them!" he stammered.

Back at the camp, the boys waited for "Bob" and Dick to arrive, so they could tell them of their encounter with the monster.

But when considerable time had passed, and the engineers still had not arrived, Hal and Will decided to go ahead with their plan for the reservoir. Two hours later, the Bendover boys, accompanied by Chud, walked down the slope to the water where "Bob's" skiff was moored.

In their arms they carried an assortment of queer-looking articles they had brought with them. In addition they had a decoy duck painted white, with the initials H and W daubed on the sides in red; a slab of yellow pine, with the same initials carved in the wood and painted red; and a barrel stave painted white and daubed with red stripes. The most important of the queer-looking items was a large live chicken to keep Chud amused.

Chud glanced around apprehensively as Hal rowed the skiff over the murky water. The squeak of the oars, and the trickle of water from the blades were the only sounds the boys heard in the night.

"Let her ride," Will said, as the boat swung close to the opposite shore.

Hal hauled in the oars, and Will dropped the duck in the water. Hal rowed on, keeping the skiff a few feet from the shore.

Then Will and Chud dropped overboard the painted yellow-pine board, and finally the barrel stave and the now dead chicken.

It was late when they finished circling the reservoir, but they had the satisfaction of knowing that if the underground channel existed, at least one of their articles was bound to be sucked into it.

"How long do you suppose it will take for this junk to go through the tunnel?" asked Will. Hal thought for a moment, then he said, "Of course, we don't know for sure where the stream comes out. The geological guy in the book "Bob" Carpenter read thought the stream flowed into the bay down near Smallville."

"That's twenty miles-" Hal interrupted. "-as the crow flies. But how do we know the underground channel takes the most direct way? And how do we know there aren't ledges and rocks and obstructions on which the things we've dumped in here will get caught?"

"In any event, the enemy submarines might intercept them, just to keep us in the dark" he said, continuing with boys' paranoid delusion.

"Besides," said Will, "we have to remember that the water is actually flowing through the old stream bed only a few hours at night."

"That's right," agreed Hal. "If this thing were a straight flume or chute like a millrace, the things we planted could get to the bay, if that's where it ends, in a couple of hours. But my guess would be that it will be more like a couple of days."

Will nodded. "All the same, we had better plan to make a search for the stuff as soon as we can. The tide could carry it out of the bay, and then we'd never know."

Hal hooked the skiff to its mooring line and stepped ashore. "Well, that's that," he said, looking out over the water. "What say we drive back to Smallville?"

"Suits me," Will replied.

"Me, too," Chud chimed in. He glanced at his watch. "I wonder if Aunt Gertrude will feel like a midnight snack?" he asked lewdly.

Will grinned. "She will if you threaten her!"

Chud started toward the tents. "Then let's get going!" he called over his shoulder. "We haven't much time! I've got my needs!"

They packed a few things they would need, and Hal wrote a note to "Bob" and Dick telling them about the monster and saying the boys would return in a day or two. He propped up the note on "Bob's" cot, where the engineer would be sure to see it, sitting next to the latest skull.

Aunt Gertrude was in bed reading when the Bendover boys drove up to the house in Chud's car. But when she heard how Chud had set his heart on having a 'slice of her pie' before going home, she good-naturedly put on her leather bustier and came right down. Soon, Hal and Will, were wolfing sandwiches, gulping milk and watching Chud attack Aunt Gertrudes' private parts with gusto, on the kitchen table.

Aunt Gertrude looked at them with astonishment. "What in the world have you been doing up there in the mountain?" she demanded. "You act as if you haven't been titillated for a week!"

Hal told her a few of the things that had happened to them, and his aunt clucked disapprovingly. Although she tried not to show it, the maiden lady worried constantly about the boys' activities whenever they were home, and it was always a relief to her when they were at risk. She felt that they acted far too much like their father--dangerous.

"Where's Dad?" Will asked finally. "He had a telephone call this evening and went out," Aunt Gertrude said. "He said he wouldn't be back until tomorrow."

"Was the call about the Flosser case?" Hal questioned her eagerly. "I don't know," she replied tartly. "You ought to know by now that your father doesn't confide in me about his work. He trusts no one."

The last remark made Hal uneasy, for his father had been suspiciously open with him, and that could indicate that his father was starting to think of him as expendable.

Chud knocked off another piece and looked wistfully at his limp manhood. Then he stood up with a sigh. "I gotta be going," he announced to the boys. "See you tomorrow." He beamed at Aunt Gertrude. "And thanks for the tension breaker."

The next day the boys were at breakfast when the telephone rang. Mrs. Bendover answered the call. "It's Connie," she told Hal. "She says she must see you right away!"

"Where is she?" Hal asked, pushing back his chair.

"She's in a drugstore a few doors from Mr. Klenger's plumbing shop," his mother went on. "She says she has some important news for you! She needs you right away!"

"I better get right over!" Hal said excitedly, misinterpreting the message as a call to lust. He thrust his arms into the sleeves of his jacket.

"I'll go with you!" Will put in promptly.

"Ooo--a double team. Okay--but hurry!" Hal called, rushing out the door. "I'll get the autogyro!"

Hal found an empty landing space in back of the drugstore and expertly jockeyed the heliopter into it. Connie ran to meet them as the boys got out. "What happened?" Hal asked worriedly. "You look frightened!"

"I am," Connie said. "At least, I was," she amended with a little laugh. "I'm getting over it, now."

"That's a shame" said Hal, "I like it better when you are frightened!"

She looked nervously up and down the street, then beckoned the two boys into the doorway of a vacant store where they could not easily be seen. She knew that when Hal was turned on, she had to act fast, before he became violent. So, all too soon, the three of them were far more relaxed.

"Mr. Klenger fired me this morning," Connie said.

Hal's eyes widened. "The Dog! What for?" he asked.

"He caught me copying down a telegram he'd received," Connie explained.

"He was furious. I never saw a man so mad in my life!"

"What did the telegram say?" Will queried her eagerly.

"Mr. Klenger tore up the copy I was making," Connie told him, "but I remember the words."

She wrinkled her brow in thought as Hal and Will waited on tenterhooks for the message.

"It went like this," Connie said.

"Wait," Hal said hurriedly. "I'll write them down." He took a small notebook and a pencil from his pocket. "Okay, shoot!"

"The message said: 'Syndicate convinced you are stalling. What's wrong? Can Ressolf deliver? When? And it was signed 'Stang'."

Hal scribbled the last words of the message, and the two Bendover boys studied them with puzzled frowns. "Ressolf. Stang" Hal mused. "Sounds like Russian names."

"Maybe they are code names," Will suggested.

"Could be" Hal agreed, studying the word thoughtfully.

"I've got it!" he cried suddenly. "It's backwards--It's Flosser spelled backwards!"

Will's eyes glistened blankly. "But what does Gnats mean?" he said, extrapolating a bit.

"They are small, annoying insects. But that's not important right now" said Hal. "This is definite proof Klenger is mixed up in Dr. Flosser's disappearance" he crowed. The boys grinned at one another with rising excitement.

"Where did the message come from, Connie?" Hal questioned the pretty brown-haired girl.

"Capital City," she answered promptly. "It arrived this morning."

"What did Klenger say when he caught you copying it?" "He called me a snooper, Hal! He said he just wouldn't have nosey people around. He said I was a lousy lay and that I was through. What an asshole!"

"When did all this happen?" asked Hal.

"It happened just after a man came to see Mr. Klenger," Connie went on.

"A tall, thin, pipe-smoking man?" Hal asked quickly.

"Yes," Connie said, surprised.

"Mr. Klenger called him 'Tweeker'."

"I thought so," Hal remarked grimly. "Tweeker is the man we saw on the mountain, talking to S. "Bob" Hawkins," he told Will, "and one of the men who held me up," he added.

Hal thought for a moment. "Maybe we'd better have a talk with Klenger," he decided finally.

"You can't!" Connie cried. "He closed his shop right after he fired me. He said he was leaving town!"

The boys stared at her with dismay. If Klenger left Smallville, they might never locate the key to the two mysteries. And that would mean that Yul Bendover would beat them both into incontinence, at best.

They flew Connie home. There Hal asked for the telephone directory.

"I'm going to look up Klenger's address," he told Will. "If he told Connie the truth, maybe he's still home packing."

Hal wrote down Klenger's street and number, and a moment later he flew the autogyro in the direction of the house. It was a frame house, set back from the street by a short lawn. As the boys went up the steps to the porch, they saw that the window shades were drawn. Hal rang the doorbell, but there was no answer. Will tried to peer through a window, something he did with fair frequency, usually late at night, but the shade completely shut off his view. They returned to the car, and as he got in Will looked over his shoulder. Was it his imagination--or for a moment had he actually seen a woman's face staring at the boys from an upstairs window?

He told Hal about the face, and his brother deliberated. "If it was Klenger's wife," he said thoughtfully, "he can't have gone away for good. We'll go back some other time and try our luck. If he has run away, and if she is good looking, she is ours."

Mr. Bendover had returned when the boys arrived home. After the formality of a vicious caning, they showed him Hal's copy of the telegram Klenger had received, and he studied it with great care.

"There's no doubt now that Klenger is a man we've got to watch," the secret policeman said.

Hal told him of the possibility that Klenger had left Smallville, and his father clenched his pipe intensely.

"I'll check on that." Mr. Bendover reached for the phone. "Get me long-distance-Capitol City," he told the operator. He glanced at the telegram on his desk. "I'm going to try to trace the sender of this message," he explained to the boys.

Hal and Will left their father to complete his call.

"You know something?" asked Hal when they were outside the study door. "The sooner we take the 'Poop-shoot' and begin to look for the articles we dropped into the reservoir last evening the better. The tide will be going out in another hour."

"Let's go," Will replied. They drove to the boathouse where they kept their speedboat. Hal stepped into the cockpit of the trim little craft and pushed the starter button. The motor failed to catch at first, and Hal put out his hand to try again. But before he made contact, the boys heard the roar of a motorcycle as it came to a stop behind the boathouse. The motorcycle's motor misfired, then sputtered loudly with a peculiar, uneven rhythm. A moment later, it stopped. Will saw a tense look come over his brother's face.

"What is it, Hal?" he asked quickly. "That motorcycle!" Hal whispered. "It sounds like the machine Tweeker was riding the night he held me up!"

CHAPTER XI

A Visit to Fnordside

Hal leaped from the Poop-shoot and ran toward the rear of the boathouse. Will followed, close on his brother's heels. The motorcycle was parked in a shed, but its rider was nowhere to be seen. Hal's eyes quickly scanned the shed, looking for a target to attack.

In a corner of the flimsy building was a door leading to the boat landing.

"He must have gone that way!" the youth said. He flung open the door and they rushed out on the landing. A few feet away, a tall, thin man stood at the wheel of a speedboat.

"It's Tweeker!" Hal exclaimed excitedly.

The boys heard the sputtering roar of a motor, and the craft curved out into the bay. Will's machine-gun fire in his direction was ineffective.

"Come on!" Hal cried, racing for the Poop-shoot. "We'll follow him!"

"Go ahead, Hal!" Will yelled after him. "I'll try to trace the owner of the motorcycle!"

Hal waved his hand, making an okay sign with his thumb and forefinger, or so Will thought, the real gesture being quite ruder.

A moment later, the Poop-shoot sped away from the landing and roared in pursuit of the other craft.

Will went back to the shed and examined the motorcycle carefully. There was a leather pouch attached to the seat, but it contained only a pair of goggles, a few greasy rags, and some ancient alien artifacts, which Will ignored because they were dirty, opting instead to swipe the goggles. He studied the license plate. It was the familiar red-and- black license issued by the adjoining State control district.

"Well, that's something," he told himself, memorizing the number.

Returning to the autogyro, he headed for the Bendover home.

Luckily, Mr. Bendover was still there, and Will apprised him of the new developments.

For the next fifteen minutes, Will apprised him again, but in the proper manner, after being painfully chastised for his impertinence.

In another fifteen minutes, Yul Bendover had the information his son needed. The motorcycle's license had been issued to Mr. Richard "Bob" Kimball of Fnordside.

"Fnordside!" Will exclaimed. "That's just across the state line! I could drive there in an hour!"

"What will you do when you get there?" his father asked. "Why, I--I'll--" Will stopped, nonplussed. "Golly," he said, thrusting his fingers through his hair, "I hadn't thought of that!"

"It's best to plan before you act," the secret policeman informed him with a sense of disgust. "Kimball may be the man in the speedboat--the one called Tweeker. Or the motorcycle may have been borrowed by a friend of Kimball's or by someone in Kimball's employ."

"Maybe the motorcycle was stolen from Mr. Kimball," Will suggested.

"Maybe," Mr. Bendover admitted. "The point is, you may have to rely on Kimball's word."

"That's true," Will said slowly.

"Your best bet is to find out all you can about Kimball before you see him," the boy's father went on. He scribbled something on a slip of paper and handed it to Will. "Here's the name of the city editor of the Fnordside News. He's an old comrade of mine. If anyone can give you information about Richard "Bob" Kimball, he can."

"Thanks, Dad," the boy said gratefully. "I'll talk to him."

Still grinning, Yul Bendover then gave Will the worst thrashing of the year, all the while cursing his wife for raising two meatheads.

Four hours later, Will stepped into the offices of the Fnordside News. He walked past reporters busily tapping out the day's party propaganda news on their typewriters, rushing copy boys, jangling phones and clicking teleradio machines. Beyond the main office was a door lettered "T. "Bob" Taylor, City Editor."

Will opened the door and went in. T. "Bob" Taylor was a huge, red-faced man who chewed savagely on a fat pipe and issued orders to his secretary in a voice that was close to a bark. But when Will introduced himself, the editor became surprisingly passive, subservient and cooperative.

"So you're Yul Bendover's boy!" He studied the youth keenly. "Your Dad and I have tackled some cases together." Not mentioning that he had been one of his father's chief informants, and was so fearful of the man that he often would grovel before him, whining and crying. "What can I do for you? Anything? Anything at all?"

Will told him.

"Kimball, eh?" T. "Bob" Taylor chewed thoughtfully on his pipe, grinning at the notion of implicating someone else. "I guess I can give you a few facts about him." He turned to his secretary. "Connie, get me the clips on Richard "Bob" Kimball."

A few minutes later, a sheaf of news clippings from the morgue--the reference file room of the newspaper--was placed on Taylor's desk. The city editor scanned the clippings quickly.

"Richard "Bob" Kimball," he recited. "Age, sixty-five. Occupation: President of the Kimball Construction Company. Deviationist tendencies. Clearly a threat to the State. Mentally abberant. Obviously a traitor. Has a son, Richard "Bob", Jr.--."

"How old is the son?" Will interrupted.

"Thirty-one," Taylor told him.

Will repressed a feeling of excitement. The man called Tweeker was just about that age!

"I happen to know Richard "Bob", Jr. is a pretty worthless sort," the editor said. "He's given his father a great deal of trouble--passing bad checks, getting involved with shady characters and generally making life miserable for the old man. He plays in an illegal anti-revolutionary rock-and-roll band. Deviationist tendencies. Clearly a threat to the state. Mentally abberant. Obviously a traitor."

Will listened attentively. This information, too, seemed to tie in with the thin man!

"Kimball thought responsibility might straighten out his son so he made him manager of the company," T. "Bob" Taylor continued, "but I understand the experiment has been pretty much of a dud. Young Kimball is too shiftless to stick at a job. He failed to learn his dialectic even though re-educated multiple times."

He pushed the clippings away from him. "Anything else you need to know?" he asked.

"No, thanks!" Will replied. "That's plenty!"

He copied down the address of the Kimball Construction Company, made the city editor clean his shoes and departed.

Forty minutes later, he stood in the Kimball Company's reception room.

"Whom shall I say is calling?" the girl at the switchboard asked him.

"Will Bendover."

She relayed this information to Mr. Kimball, then turned to Will. "You may go in. Mr. Kimball's office is right through that door" she said, while running her tongue seductively across her upper lip and looking at him through half-closed 'bedroom' eyes.

A gray-haired, ruddy-cheeked man looked up as the youth entered. He rose from his chair behind a large desk and extended his hand. Will noticed that he too smoked a pipe.

"Aren't you Mr. Bendover's son?" he said, smiling a bit nervously. "Yul Bendover, the Political Deviancy Bureau Colonel?"

Will acknowledged that he was.

Mr. Kimball motioned Will to a chair and resumed his seat behind the desk. "What did you come to see me about?" he asked after a moment, his hands fidgeting, half threateningly, with a letter opener.

"Your son," Will wanted to say. But he decided on a more indirect approach. "Mr. Kimball," he said, "I found a motorcycle registered in your name in Smallville. I have a hunch it was stolen."

Mr. Kimball's brows lifted. "I own such a machine," he admitted. "It's used to carry messages from my office to the field engineers. But what makes you think it's been stolen?"

"The man who was riding the motorcycle I had seen before," Will replied tactfully, "in rather suspicious circumstances." Mr. Kimball stared at his hands.

"What does he look like?" he asked after a while. "He's tall and thin," Will told him. "About thirty-one years old."

The letter opener fell from the man's fingers, and his mouth twitched. He started to play with himself in his pants pockets.

"I'll see if there's anyone answering that description in our employ," he said slowly, picking up the phone. He turned away from the boy and shielded his lips with his hand.

Will strained to hear what Mr. Kimball and the voice at the other end of the wire were saying, but all he could make out was a murmur.

Not to worry, his phone has been tapped, thought Will.

Mr. Kimball put down the receiver and looked at the youth. "There is such a man working for us," he said pleasantly. "But you're mistaken about the motorcycle being stolen. He was sent to Smallville on an errand by my plant foreman." He gave a little laugh. "Doubtless your imagination was playing you tricks when you thought you saw the young man in suspicious circumstances. My foreman tells me he has a fine record."

"I see," said Will. He paused, then added: "Would you mind telling me the man's name?"

Mr. Kimball spread his hands with a deprecating smile. "I'm sorry," he said. "I really don't think I should."

"Was it--Tweeker?" Will put in quickly. For an instant, the boy imagined a look of panic came into Mr. Kimball's eyes, but he shook his head firmly.

"I'm sorry--no." He glanced at a small clock on his desk, then rose. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment to have my cat waxed."

Will stood up also. He turned as if to leave, then tried one more shot.

"Mr. Kimball," he said, "may I see a picture of your son?"

The gray-haired man stared at him. "My son?" he stammered. "What for?"

"I have reason to believe he is the man who took the motorcycle," Will told him quietly.

Mr. Kimball's face reddened and he took a step toward the boy. "Get out of here!" he ordered, his voice shaking. "I had an idea your father sent you to question me and now I'm sure of it! What my son does is nobody's business but his and mine!"

He raised his fist threateningly. "Get out! I have high party connections! These slanders will be met with force! Men have died for less!"

Will returned to the car. He felt his line of questioning had been a little rough on Mr. Kimball, and he was happy, for he had no sympathy with the father's loyalty to his son. Needless to say, this made it certain that both criminals would be executed painfully when the mysteries were solved. And the youth was now more than ever convinced that the man called Tweeker was Richard "Bob" Kimball, Jr.!

CHAPTER XII

Search at Sea

Back in Smallville, Will was surprised to find that Hal had not returned home. Nor was Mr. Bendover there, either, having gone out on a mission of his own. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"This headquarters is worse than a Hamburg brothel!" Aunt Gertrude stormed. "People racing in and out at all hours--and expecting Connie and me to run a twenty-four-hour restaurant and interrogation service!"

Will knew his aunt must have prepared some special dish for her brother and was afraid he would not return in time to eat it. The boy pretended to sniff the air. "Mmmm!" he said. "Something in this house smells mighty good! Almost like napalm in the morning!"

His aunt beamed, then set her lips. "It's about time you noticed it!" she said tartly. She led him into the kitchen. On the table was a plate heaped with fresh jelly doughnuts.

"Wow!" Will exclaimed. "You're not going to make me wait until dinner to eat one of these?"

"Humph," Aunt Gertrude sniffed. "As if I didn't know you'd steal one of them the minute my back was turned!"

She gave him a doughnut and studied his face anxiously for approval. It was not long in coming.

"Best doughnut I ever ate!" Will told her, wolfing another bite.

"Don't talk with your mouth full!" his aunt snapped. And with a smug look at the doughnuts, she went upstairs.

Will grinned and spit out the dysentary-infected doughnut. It was a good thing Chud wasn't around, he reflected. Chud would go through that plate of doughnuts like a blitz, and would be defecating inconveniently at the expense of the boys' mission.

Thinking of Chud reminded Will of the decoy duck, the barrel stave, the yellow-pine board and the dead chicken they had planted in the reservoir. It would soon be time to set up a watch in the bay, to determine whether the articles had been carried by an underground stream from the reservoir. He dialed the number of the Moron farm.

Lola answered. She told him of the party she and Connie were planning, and made Will promise to come and bring Hal and his bag of "toys". Then she put Chud on the phone.

"Hi, Chud," Will said. "How about meeting me at the boat landing in a half hour?"

"What for? Are you going to try to drown me again, or do you want me to do more, ugh, manual labor?" Chud questioned him warily.

Will grinned. It was just like Chud not to take any chances where work might be involved! He was a slothful slug.

"We've got to post a lookout for the stuff we dropped in the reservoir," he explained.

"Already?" Chud complained.

"Certainly. There's no telling when the stuff may come through. And somebody's got to be around when it does!"

"Okay," the Moron boy agreed reluctantly. "But I can't make it in a half hour. I'm just starting dinner. I won't be done for several vomits."

"Skip it," Will told him, "and I'll ask Aunt Gertrude to pack some food for us. She's just made a batch of jelly doughnuts" he said grinning inwardly.

"Jelly doughnuts!" Chud cried. "I'll meet you in fifteen minutes!" His avarice knew no bounds or limitations.

Will laughed and hung up the phone. He pictured Chud with his rear end over the pier, with fish hungrily waiting below.

Will had feared his father would return before he went to meet Chud. But when he could wait no longer for Mr. Bendover to appear, the boy put the basket of food his aunt had prepared in the autogyro and flew to the boat landing.

He landed the autogyro across from the shed where he had seen the motorcycle and went toward it on his way to the landing. He opened the door of the building and stepped inside--then stopped short. The motorcycle was no longer there!

"Oh, merde!" Will frowned. Tweeker must have returned and taken the machine. But if he had, why hadn't Hal returned, too? Puzzled, Will went out on the boat landing. The thin man's speedboat was not moored to the landing--and the Poop-shoot was not in her slip.

"Hey!" Chud hailed him. He was sitting on the rail of the dock and he wore a look of deep disgust. "Some fifteen minutes!" he said, looking at his watch "I'm starving!"

"Sorry, Chud," Will apologized.

Chud noted the boy's worried expression. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Will told him of Hal's absence. "He's been gone several hours," he said. "I'm afraid something's happened to him. If he disappears, dad will suspect us of helping him to defect!"

"Golly," Chud said. "I wish there was something we could do. Say, can I have a doughnut?"

Will gave him the food basket, disgustedly. "Chud, would you mind going out alone in a skiff to hunt for the things we dropped in the water?" he asked. "There's a lead I'd like to track down that may explain where Hal is."

"Heck, no," the other boy assured him. "I'll phone Whiff Pooter. Maybe he'd like to come."

"Swell," said Will. He went back toward the shed. "See you later!" he called.

He was cracking up inside, thinking of Chud and Whiff being 'caught short' on a skiff miles from shore.

Will examined the dusty floor of the shed and followed the motorcycle tracks to the street. There the heavy-treaded tires left no imprints. Will stared at the street thoughtfully.

Then he got into the autogyro and flew to criminal-police headquarters.

Chief Cowlick looked at him sourly. "Oh, so it's you!" he said. "What's the matter?" Will asked.

"Plenty," the heavy, red-faced man told him. "There always is when you Bendover kids poke your noses into other people's business," he added grumpily.

Will was nettled but did not let it show. He was well aware of Cowlick's long-standing envy of his and Hal's ability to solve mysteries which had the chief stumped. And he knew Cowlick would never pass up an opportunity to needle the Bendover boys, most likely with poor-quality confiscated heroin.

"Mr. Kimball phoned me from Fnordside," Cowlick continued. "He gave me the license number of a motorcycle he wanted returned to him. Said you'd reported seeing the machine in Smallville."

"Then you took it away!" Will exclaimed. "Eh? You had the machine taken from the shed and sent back to Mr. Kimball."

"What shed?" the policeman roared.

Will stared at him with surprise. "You mean you didn't find the motorcycle?"

"No, consarn it!" Chief Cowlick's heavy jowls shook with anger. "Riley was out all afternoon combing the streets for the danged contraption. Said there wasn't any such machine with an out-of-Control-District license in Smallville!"

"It was parked in a shed behind the boat landing, you twit" Will explained. "It couldn't be seen from the street."

"This is a fine time to be telling me!" Cowlick said, glaring at the boy. "When I told Mr. Kimball his motorcycle wasn't in Smallville, he damn near had a stroke, then tore me a new asshole!"

"I wonder who did take the motorcycle?" Will asked, puzzled. He had always had problems with his short-term memory.

"I don't know," the red-faced officer told him flatly. "And I wouldn't care if I did. I never want to hear of one of those blasted things again! Tools of counterrevolutionary anarchists and hooligans!"

At that moment, a motorcycle went roaring past the criminal- police station, and Cowlick turned purple. Will watched indifferently as Cowlick sprayed machine gun fire down into the crowded street.

Will listened intently for an uneven rhythm in the motor, but it moved with smooth precision. The boy went to the door and stole another look at the criminal-police chief as he stepped out.

He was fit to be tied!

"Incompetent jackass," Will thought, "he will never be a threat to us."

Later that night, when Hal did not appear, the Bendovers became genuinely concerned. Could they celebrate his disappearance or demise yet?

Yul Bendover arrived home a few minutes after ten o'clock. He had been making the rounds of the railroad station and bus terminals, he told Will, to ascertain whether Klenger had left town. There was no evidence that he had, unless by car, and Mr. Bendover felt that the plumber probably was still in Smallville. Only half listening, because of his concern for his own well-being, Will sought the secret policeman's advice. Very politely.

"We'll search the bay," his father decided. "Hal can't have gone very far in the Poop-shoot, unless the boat's fuel tank was full. I'll ask the harbor police to take us out in their launch. If he is trying to defect, they will blow him out of the water!"

A two-hour search in the coves along the shores of Barmy Bay failed to reveal any sign of the missing boy or of the Poop- shoot. The police launch headed into deeper water. Every ship in the harbor was signaled and boarded, every flickering light and unusual sound investigated, but still there was no trace of Hal.

"I'm sorry, sir," the patrol sergeant told Mr. Bendover at last. "I'm afraid we'll have to turn back."

"Let's try just one more place," Will pleaded. "Merryman Island."

The sergeant looked doubtful. "If your brother was on the island," he said, "the lighthouse keeper would have radioed the shore. He is a paranoid and very watchful of intruders."

"Hal might be there without the keeper's knowledge," Will pointed out. "He might be lying hurt somewhere on the island."

"Or dead" Yul Bendover said, his perpetual grin becoming more abstract and joyous.

"All right," the sergeant assented, turning the wheel of the launch. "But this will have to be our last stop."

Soon, the wind-swept, wave-lashed mass of rocks that was Merryman Island lay directly ahead of them. The launch swung in as close as it could to a narrow, sandy beach, and Will jumped into the shallow water and waded ashore.

"Look!" he cried. Suddenly exposed by the revolving beam of the lighthouse's pitiful search light was the white hull of the Poop-shoot! The speedboat lay alongside a tiny dock.

A grizzled, white-haired old man wearing a turtleneck sweater leaned down over the rail of the tall lighthouse's circular runway. He put a megaphone to his pipe-smoking mouth.

"Who are ye? What do ye want? There's no teenage runaways here! Go away!" he shouted.

"I'm looking for my brother!" Will yelled up at him. The lighthouse keeper shook his head.

"What?" he roared.

Will made a megaphone of his hands. "I'm looking for my brother!" he shouted again.

"He's not here!" the keeper yelled back. "There's nobody on this island but me! Those sheep are wild and over-age!"

"He must be here!" Will shouted. "His boat is moored at the dock, you old bastard!" He pointed to the boat, and saw the keeper look in that direction.

Then the old man shook his head. "Not my problem!" he said. "Not here! Go bugger off" he repeated, and went inside the lighthouse.

Will turned to find his father standing beside him.

"I don't like this at all," Mr. Bendover said. "A common worker who behaves in such a manner should be exterminated!"

"Dad, maybe Hal left the island on another boat," Will told him. "If he did, he may have left a note!"

They went to the Poop-shoot and examined it carefully. In the cockpit they found Hal's shoes, jacket and underwear. Then, after a long search, Will found what they were looking for--a message from Hal, jammed into the short-wave set--a folded piece of white paper. While Mr. Bendover held a flashlight, the boy opened the note. They read it silently.

The patrol sergeant came over to them. "Are you almost finished here, sir?" he asked the secret policeman. "Sergeant, my son and I will return to Smallville in the speedboat," Mr. Bendover told him. "Thanks very much for your assistance. I'll let your supervisor know of your cooperation."

Fat chance, he thought. The sergeant touched his cap and waded out to the police launch. Will and his father watched the boat back into deeper water, then swing in a foamy circle toward Smallville.

They read Hal's message again. It said: "Changing to Tweeker's-"

Why hadn't the boy completed the message, they wondered, Was it because he was in a hurry? Or had he been interrupted? And why had he taken off his shoes, jacket and underwear? And why are women so emotional? They looked out at the murky water, as if it held the answers.

CHAPTER XIII

Cast Adrift

As Hal swung the Poop-shoot away from the boat landing in pursuit of Tweeker's speeding craft, he felt a sudden premonition of danger.

Rightly so, as he had forgotten to release the painter rope from the pier. The sudden halt to the boat's progress tossed him into the drink. After he had recovered, he glanced over his shoulder at the boathouse, half tempted to turn back and ask Will to join him, but his brother had disappeared. Hal shook off the feeling with a little laugh. "I must be getting jittery," he told himself sardonically, "I didn't even remember to bring my machine gun!"

He guided the Poop-shoot skillfully across Barmy Bay, skirting ships and smaller craft and holding the boat to as fast a speed as he dared in order to cut down the distance between him and Tweeker.

The thin man's speedboat headed out to sea--and behind it, at a distance calculated not to arouse suspicion, the Poop-shoot followed. The two boats held this position for a half hour. Then Hal saw Tweeker's craft curve toward Merryman Island.

He twisted the wheel of the Poop-shoot, and the trim speedboat described a wide, foamy arc as it followed suit.

Directly ahead, the boy saw Barmy lighthouse, a tall, makeshift white tower which had once been used by pirates to guide wayward craft into jagged reefs and shoals, but now was used for spotting enemy attack dirigibles.

Stretching away from its base was barren, rock-bound Merryman Island.

Tweeker slowed his boat, and cautiously circled the island.

"Wonder what he's going there for? Maybe a redezvouz with an enemy zeppelin!" Hal mused stupidly.

He waited until the craft disappeared behind a jutting finger of rocks, then cut the motor of the Poop-shoot and let the boat drift toward a tiny dock extending from a narrow, sandy beach.

Hal leaped out as the speedboat swung alongside the dock, and secured it to the landing.

He looked at the lighthouse, but there was no sign of activity in the tower.

"Guess the keeper's asleep" he muttered.

The boy's conjecture was correct. During the day, except in foggy weather, the lighthouse tower itself could serve as a platform to fire on unauthorized ships. But at night the keeper stood watch, training his eyes on the skies illuminated by the slowly revolving searchlight.

The old man's vigil had cost many Oceania ballonists their lives, by alerting the shore batteries, or so it was alleged by the authorities.

Keeping to the shore, Hal clambered over sharp rocks and ran along short stretches of narrow beach to the spot where he had seen Tweeker's boat disappear. Soon he came to a cove and saw the craft rocking gently a short distance from land.

Tweeker was pacing the beach, smoking a pipe and staring frequently out to sea.

"He must be waiting for someone," Hal told himself.

He stretched out on a boulder, washed smooth by the sea, and watched the man. A low shelf of rocks in front of the boulder prevented him from being seen. Minutes ticked by. Then an hour. Hal saw that Tweeker was becoming impatient, then angry. He paced the sand with short, jerky steps, stopping from time to time to glare at the sea. His vigorous nose-picking was hypnotic. He kept whistling the first seven notes of "I'd like to teach the world to sing," when he was not chewing on his pipe.

Finally, he squared his shoulders, flicked his pipes' contents into the water, then rolled up his trousers and waded quickly toward the boat.

At that instant, the sound of a launch came clearly over the water. Tweeker stopped and shaded his eyes with his hand.

Hal also looked. The boat was heading directly toward the beach. "This is it!" the boy thought excitedly.

But instead of putting in to the cove, the launch stopped well beyond the surf. The man at the wheel fumbled with something in his hands, then tossed a tin can into the water. He waved to Tweeker, pointed at the can and swung the launch back toward Smallville!

"Now what?" Hal asked himself, puzzled. He saw the can dancing on the waves. Then the surf caught it, and a white lip of foam hurled it toward the beach.

Tweeker waded into the foaming surf and plucked the can out of the water. He pried open the lid and took out a slip of paper and a huge wad of semi-chewed gum. Slowly, he read the note. Then, disgusted, he crunched the paper into a ball and threw it into the surf. He popped the gum into his mouth, it's juice spilling down his chin on the side opposite his pipe.

"Yeccchh!" thought Hal.

The thin man waded to the speedboat and cast off. A few seconds later, the craft eased out of the cove and roared through the waves toward Smallville.

Hal rose from behind the sheltering rocks and ran to the sandy beach. He waded into the surf and snatched the soggy ball from the churning water. Returning to the beach, he unfolded the water soaked paper carefully. The message was typewritten, and the water had smudged the ink, but the words were still legible.

They read: "Meeting postponed until nine o'clock tonight. Will meet you at buoy off Barmy light."

The message was unsigned.

Hal looked across the water. A hundred yards offshore was a buoy, its bell tinkling faintly. "That must be the buoy the note mentions," he mused. He looked at his watch. There was still plenty of time to return to Smallville, catch a 'quicky' with Connie, and later be on hand for the meeting.

Whistling, Hal walked along the shore toward the Poop-shoot. "This is going to be interesting," he assured himself.

He wondered who had sent Tweeker the message. "Golly!" he thought. "Maybe it's from Dr. Flosser himself!"

He cast off the mooring line of the Poop-shoot and, climbing into the cockpit, pressed the starter button. The motor caught with a roar, and the sleek, white craft backed away from the dock and started leisurely after the other fast-disappearing speedboat. However, the Poop-shoot had not gone far when the motor began to sputter.

Hal looked quickly at the gas gauge. The gas tank was almost empty! The youth turned the wheel of the boat and headed back toward the island. He was none too soon. The motor sputtered and coughed violently, then lapsed into silence as the Poop- shoot again swung alongside the dock.

"#&%@*!" said Hal.

Hal debated going to the lighthouse and waking the keeper but decided against it. It might interfere with his plan for attending the meeting. He must assume collusion with the enemy.

He considered sending Will and Mr. Bendover a message on the speedboat's short-wave set but decided against that also. Most likely it would be monitored by the State Communications Decency Agency, a notoriously short-sighted and neurotic bureau at odds with everything representing sanity and common sense, he reflected.

And, in any event, if he told them of his plan, Will or his father might insist on joining him--and more than one Bendover eavesdropping on the meeting might betray them.

Hal looked across the water at the buoy. From the dock, it was about a hundred and fifty yards away--but the boy was confident he could swim the distance when the time came.

He was too stupid to realize that he would also have to swim back, effectively doubling that distance.

He sat down in the cockpit and glanced at his watch. It was going to be a long wait.

Hours later streaks of red flamed across the sky as the sun seemed to sink into the sea. Then dusk fell, and soon night cloaked the island in darkness. The tedious waiting had made him hungry, then sleepy. He dozed fitfully, his head on his chest. He feared an attack from the feral sheep of the island.

At first, Hal did not hear the sound. It sounded again--the unmistakable hum of a motor. Hal's head snapped up. He squinted his eyes and stared in the direction of the sound, but he could see nothing in the darkness except the rolling sea.

He found the binoculars which were kept in a compartment of the boat and trained them on the water. Through the powerful lenses, he saw the tiny green and red running lights of an approaching but still distant speedboat. Hal studied his watch. The time was twenty minutes to nine.

"Wow!" he said. "I'll have to hurry!" He took out paper and pencil and addressed a note to Will and his father. He wanted to tell them that he was going to try to conceal himself in Tweeker's boat and overhear what was said at the meeting. "Changing to Tweeker's--" Hal wrote hastily.

And at that moment, the pencil point broke.

"Double-@&*%*&!!" said Hal.

He gave it a look of disgust. He then searched the boat unsuccessfully for another pencil or a pen, then tried to find a knife to sharpen a new pencil point. Finally, he gave up and jammed the partly written message into the short-wave set.

He focused the binoculars again. The speedboat was much closer. Removing his jacket, shoes, pants and underwear, then replacing his pants (he hated wet underwear) Hal stepped to the deck of the Poop-shoot.

Then he dived cleanly into the water and struck out for the buoy. He was very glad that the whole bay had been pre-heated by the runoff water of the cooling towers of the Smallville nuclear plant. "What's a little radiation?" he thought.

The surf was even rougher than he had anticipated, and he gasped as the waves broke over his head. Settling into a slow crawl, he swam steadily toward the blinking light which marked the buoy. The boy could see the speedboat clearly now, and he felt a tingle of surprise and relief as his eyes fell on a tender towed behind the craft. It was going to be easier for him to conceal himself than he had thought!

Minutes passed, and the churning waters began to sap Hal's strength. He heard the bell of the buoy tinkling a short distance ahead, and dug into the waves with renewed vigor. At last he reached the buoy, and clung to an iron chain which dipped deep into the water.

The floating marker danced with the waves and flung spray into the boy's face. Moments later, the speedboat swung past the buoy and came to a stop. It lay idly on the water, the tender behind it, and Hal saw Tweeker step to the deck and stare into the darkness.

The boy knew the buoy kept him from being seen, and, watching his chance, he swam quietly to the tender.

Soon, the launch Hal and Tweeker had seen earlier approached the buoy.

Hal drew himself stealthily into the tender as the thin man's attention was fixed on the launch. He stretched out on the bottom of the boat and pulled a tarpaulin over him. He heard the sound of scraping wood as the launch came alongside the speedboat.

Lifting a corner of the tarpaulin, Hal peered at the strange craft. Two men emerged from the cabin and stepped into the speedboat.

One was a stranger to the boy, a strange, grinning, pipe-smoking man. The other was Klenger!

Hal whistled under his breath. The surly, red-headed plumber hadn't left Smallville after all!

The two men sat down with Tweeker in the cockpit of the speedboat, and the three began to talk earnestly.

Hal listened intently, but the sound of the waves washing against the boats and the tinkle of the buoy bell drowned out their words.

"This sucks! I Got to do better than this!" he told himself determinedly.

He inched toward the bow of the tender and, hoisting himself cautiously, felt for the painter. His fingers closed on it, and imperceptibly he pulled the tender closer to the speedboat.

Hal could hear the voices distinctly now, and he slid noiselessly under the tarpaulin. The stranger was speaking.

"Alibis!" he sneered. "That's all I hear! I want action! Excitement! Romance!"

"You'll get action," Klenger promised. "Just give us a little more time."

"Time for what?" the first man snapped. "For those engineers to fill the valley with water and ruin our plans? How do you expect to get the X--", at which point a gust of wind obscured what he was saying from Hal's hearing.

"Stop worrying about Carpenter and Hammer," Tweeker advised him. "They haven't interfered with the work so far--and they're not going to! They've both been smoking so much 'Frop that they're already starting to--"

And again Hal could not hear what was being said. "I'm not as confident of that as you are, Tweeker," Hal heard the stranger say sharply. "I hear Carpenter's even got a couple of kids snooping around the mountain! You know what Yeti-- eat for lunch, don't you?"

Hal grinned, though he didn't catch that one word, he thought. He liked the thought of being a nuisance.

"You know that we can't have the kids stumbling across the secret--" Gee, that wind is annoying, thought Hal.

"I'll take care of the kids, too," Tweeker assured him. "See that you do!" said the first man.

"Klenger, I'll give you twenty-four hours more! If Flosser hasn't completed his tests by that time, I'll--" He broke off as a rattle of tin came from the tender.

"What's that?" Hal kicked himself mentally. His foot had knocked over an oilcan, and it rattled from one side of the boat to the other with every wash of the waves!

"Sounds like a tin can," Klenger remarked, "or maybe even an oilcan, rattling from one side of the boat to the other!"

"I'll get rid of it," Tweeker said. "We can't talk with that racket going on. I can hardly hear what you two are saying anyway!"

Frantically, Hal felt with his foot and pressed it against the oilcan. The rattle stopped. "Never mind, Tweeker," the stranger told him. "It's all right now."

Hal breathed with relief. But it was shortlived. "I'm not so sure," he heard the thin man say softly. He seemed to be standing right over the boy.

"I didn't pull this tender right up to the boat. And I didn't spread canvas all over the bottom of it!" He yanked off the tarpaulin.

"Well, well, well! And who's been sleeping in my tender? It sure as hell ain't Goldilocks!"

"Okay, kid," he ordered. "Get up!" Hal stood up, and Tweeker turned to the stranger. "This is one of the snoopers you were talking about," he informed him.

"Wow! Is that like a major coincidence, or what?" said the stranger, "I guess my luck just keeps getting better and better!"

He stared at the youth, and Klenger's grin set in a hard line. "I know that kid," he said harshly. "His family has the most plugged up toilet I've ever seen!"

"But that's not important right now," he continued, "what is, is that the little S.O.B.s girlfriend gave me a roaring dose of the clap!" he said, holding a plunger in a menacing fashion.

The stranger's hand shot out and pulled Klenger back. "No rough stuff," he ordered. "The kid's father is a secret policeman. You've put me into a big enough jam already."

For a moment, Klenger's hard eyes stayed fixed on Hal. His fists were still clenched around his plunger, his second favorite weapon.

"Let's cut the kid adrift," Tweeker suggested. He pointed to the water. "The tide's heading out to sea. By the time somebody picks him up, we ought to be through with the job!"

"Great idea! Marvelous!" said the others in congratulations to Tweeker, slapping him on the back and shaking his hand. Hal stared at the water, and his heart sank. While the man had been talking, the boats had drifted farther out into the ocean--and Merryman Island was far too distant now for him to swim to it.

"That's the ticket," the stranger said. "Cut him loose, Tweeker! With luck he'll end up on the island with the Skipper and Gilligan!"

The thin man made sure there were no oars in the tender, then stepped back onto the speedboat. He unhooked the painter, and the tender drifted rapidly away. "So long, screwy!" he called mockingly. "Se ya in Saint Louie!"

Hal sat down in the tender and watched helplessly as the tide carried the boat slowly but steadily out to sea. He scanned the water for a sign of a ship, but there was none in sight.

He rolled up the tarpaulin and went over the boat carefully, hoping there would be something he could use for oars or a rudder. But he might as well have spared himself the effort. Dejectedly, he sat down.

"You've put yourself in a fine fix," he told himself bitterly. "No oars, no food, no water to drink, nothing to read, and if I know anything about wind, a storm's coming up! Nuts!"

It was true. Black clouds were billowing up in the sky, and the waves rose as the wind lashed the water. Hal studied the water anxiously. Then, as his eyes fell upon the empty oarlocks, a plan formed in his mind. He unrolled the tarpaulin, then twisted and squeezed a corner of the canvas into a short length of rope which he thrust through one of the locks. He tied the rope length into a tight knot, tugging it hard against the oarlock to make sure it could not slip through. The youth went through the same procedure with the opposite corner of the canvas, knotting it outside the second oarlock. Then he stood on a seat of the boat, holding aloft the remaining two corners of the tarpaulin-and stretched his arms wide. The impact of the wind against the outstretched canvas almost knocked Hal overboard, but he gritted his lips and set his feet firmly.

"Tweeker didn't count on my rigging up a sail!" he said to himself, grinning despite the tremendous strain on his arms and the spray which was flung in his face. "Damn, I'm good!"

Aided by the improvised sail, the boat plunged through the waves toward the island. Suddenly a streak of lightning snaked across the sky. It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the water.

The waves, lashed to fury by the storm, leaped higher. Several times Hal almost lost his balance. But the boy was determined to return to the island.

Then it happened. A gust of wind tore one corner of the canvas from his hands. Hal reached quickly for the violently flapping tarpaulin, and lost his footing.

A huge wave sent the boat reeling and flung the youth forward. Hal grabbed frantically at the seat, missed--and plunged into the sea! He struggled to the surface and shook the water from his eyes. The boat was fifteen feet away, and as he watched, the wind whipped it on.

"Oopsie!" he said, "Oh, heck!" He was alone in the stormy sea.

CHAPTER XIV

Chud Moron, informant

Desperately, Hal's eyes searched for the island. A wave lifted him, and he stared through the darkness seeking vainly for the shore. Suddenly he was conscious of the tinkling of a bell.

At first he thought that a devil had just gotten his horns-- then he realized that it was something else.

The buoy! He turned his head and saw the light a few feet from him, bobbing and blinking as the buoy rolled with the waves.

With a prayer to the ancient and illegal gods, he swam toward it and clung to the chain. He knew now that the island was only a hundred yards away, but his efforts with the canvas and his plunge into the sea had nearly exhausted him. He closed his eyes and waited for the storm to abate.

He hadn't felt this tired since the time that Connie had fed him some rhinocerous horn.

It was morning when the sky cleared and the waves subsided. The narrow, sandy beach of Merryman Island seemed to Hal to beckon invitingly, and he attempted to strike out for the shore. But his arms, numb from clinging to the buoy, were too heavy to lift. When he realized that another part of his anatomy was also non-functional, and fully retracted into his abdomen, he began to sob softly. Suddenly a heliopter appeared out of a cloud, and Hal's heart quickened with hope.

The clumsy looking machine's four-bladed propeller sparkled in the sun as the plane dipped toward the sea.

Hal shouted and waved his arm weakly.

He saw an gun extend through the plane's window and wave back at him to put up his hands, and a few minutes later the autogyro hovered directly over him and started to descend. The plane halted thirty feet above the water, and hung in the air.

The cabin door was thrust open and a blond-haired youth looked down.

"Hal!" he called curiously. "What are you doing down there? Have you lost your mind? We thought you were trying to defect!"

It was Will!

Hal grinned happily. He had never been so glad to see anyone in his life! Except for maybe his elementary-school mind-control indoctrinator.

"I'm all right, Will! " he assured his brother. "Just get me out of this soup!"

Will laughed with relief. "Not soup! Water!" he called.

He must be delirious, Will thought. "Here, catch this!"

He dropped a nylon rescue line toward the boy. It was equipped with a breeches buoy, which splashed a few yards away from Hal. Hal swam to the buoy and thrust his legs through the trouser-like bottom. The pilot of the autogyro held the plane's position as Will turned a windlass and drew the rescue line taut. Then the younger Bendover boy hoisted his brother into the plane--feet first--as he had neglected to put the bouy on higher than his knees.

"Boy, am I glad to see you!" he exclaimed, helping Hal to a seat and throwing his own jacket over his brother's shoulders.

Hal grinned at him. "Had they not found me, they would have punished you!" he said, his teeth chattering.

"That's why!" said Will.

Skip, the pilot, shook the youth's hand warmly and headed the autogyro toward Smallville. He knew the Bendover family well. He often shuttled them on search-and-destroy-and-loot missions against isolated farmers.

Will wisely refrained from asking questions until the boys had arrived home.

Then, fortified with one of Aunt Gertrude's meals, Hal described in detail what had happened.

Aunt Gertrude's eyes popped. This was due to a rare medical condition, and never ceased to unnerve others.

"My goodness!" she declared. "It's a wonder you didn't drown!" she said suspiciously.

"You must be exhausted, son," his mother said worriedly. She knew that fatigue sometimes brought out his extremely unpredictable and cruel side.

He justified her fears by punching her in the solar plexus.

"I think you should get right into bed" she gasped.

Mr. Bendover promptly supported his wife's suggestion. When exhausted, Hal could sometimes even intimidate his father with his psychotic and capricious behavior.

"I am pretty tired," Hal confessed. "Maybe forty winks or even twenty--would make a new man out of me."

Will accompanied Hal to his room. "I haven't been exactly idle, myself," he bragged with a grin. He told Hal of his trip to Fnordside and his conviction that Tweeker was Richard "Bob" Kimball, Jr.

"I always thought Tweeker was a phony name," Hal yawned, as he stretched luxuriously between the sheets.

"Or a phony nickname," Will added, not realizing the redundancy of the statement.

But his brother did not hear him. He was well on his way toward sleep, his subliminal headphones in place.

Will tiptoed from the room and found his father waiting for him in the study.

"What Hal overheard last night, together with the facts we already knew about Klenger and Tweeker, is enough evidence for us to clinch the case," Mr. Bendover told the boy quietly, while bending his arm in a painful hammer lock and jamming his face into the wall. "But our first concern is Dr. Flosser. If we force their hands now, we may never find out what happened to him. His knowledge is vital to the State!"

Will nodded through tears.

"Our best bet," the secret policeman went on, "is to try to locate, then follow, the three men. One of them is likely to lead us to Dr. Flosser."

"What do you want me to do, Dad?" Will asked eagerly, hoping for any respite for his agonized arm tendons.

Yul Bendover released him, the paced the room thoughtfully for a moment, pipe jutting from his teeth. "I want you to go to Klenger's house," he said at last. "Try to find out whether he returned there last night. If he didn't, try to learn when he will be home."

"Right," Will said, putting his hand on the doorknob.

"Hold on a minute, Will," his father said hastily, twisting one of the boys' ears to force him back into the room.

He took a paper from his desk and glanced at it. "I've checked Klenger's fingerprints--he left his prints on the letterhead he gave Hal--with the PDB.

He has a record for "uncomformity" so don't take any unnecessary chances."

"I understand," Will told him, attentively.

Mr. Bendover rubbed his chin. Will winced, recognizing his father's standard feint before a back-knuckle strike to the face.

"Klenger's plumbing shop is closed," he stated. "But Klenger and the other men may be using it as a meeting place. Do you suppose that blob, Chud, could stand watch on it? The crooks would be less apt to notice a boy than a detachment of trenchcoat-wearing idiots."

Mr. Bendover's respect for his subordinates was minimal.

"Chud!" Will's first impulse was to laugh, then he reflected that this attitude was unfair to Chud.

"I think so, Dad," he said. "He can keep undercover."

"Good!" The tall secret policeman put on his hat. "I'm going to Fnordside to check on young Kimball, the man we've known as Tweeker. There's little doubt now that you were right about his real identity. Needless to say, my actions are not for discussion with anyone else."

Will didn't even see the back knuckle when it came.

Later, he phoned Chud as his father went out the door. Young Moron was both flabbergasted and flattered by Yul Bendover's suggestion.

"Me? An informant?" he exclaimed. "Sure!"

Will said, grinning at his friend's excitement. "That is, if you want the job."

"Want it!" Chud exploded. "I'll watch that plumbing shop closer than a crab in a merkin!"

Will ignored the remark.

Chud suddenly clapped his hand to his head. "Oh-oh!" he said.

"What's the matter?" asked Will.

"I promised to meet Whiff at the boat landing this morning. We planned to take a skiff out in the bay and look for that stuff you and Hal and I planted in the reservoir. Whiff couldn't make it yesterday."

Will debated with himself for a moment. "You'd better do it," he decided. "The stuff may have come through last night--but we couldn't have spotted it in the storm, anyway. You and Whiff set up a watch," he concluded, "while I investigate Klenger's house. Then I'll take over while you train your eagle eye on the plumbing shop."

"Check," the other agreed. "Have you heard from Hal?" he asked.

"He's home," Will informed his friend. "Tell you all about it later." And the boys hung up.

The window shades were still drawn in Klenger's house when Will drove up. He stared at the upstairs window where he had seen the woman's face, but the face did not reappear. Will mounted the steps to the porch and rang the doorbell. To his surprise, the door was opened at once, and a young woman wearing a soiled negligee stood in the doorway. It was the woman whose face he had seen in the window.

"What d'ya want?" she asked abruptly, "I don't do you-know-what anymore!"

"Is your husband home?" Will asked.

"Klenger? Nah." She regarded him suspiciously. "What d'ya want him for? You some kind of kink?"

"Our kitchen faucet is leaking," Will told her. "Mr. Klenger promised to fix it for us." The woman's mouth broke into a smirk.

"It'll be a puddle if you wait for Klenger to take care of it," she said. "He's gone on a trip. Ain't seen him for weeks."

"Oh," said Will, acting as if he knew something about it. "Did he go there by boat?"

"By boat?" the woman said, puzzled, caught off guard. "You don't go to the hills by--" She shut her mouth tightly and stared hostilely at the boy, then slammed the door in his face!

A fruitless effort, as Will broke down the door, then forced her to perform a sexual act on him before he left, carrying the Klenger's TV.

Will grinned as he ran down the steps. If Klenger was in the hills, that meant Red Skull Mountain, and it was likely that Dr. Flosser was with him! Again, his logic left something to be desired.

He flew the autogyro to the boat landing.

Then, breaking the Poop-shoot out of her slip, Will headed the speedboat out into the bay. A short distance from the shore, he recognized Chud sitting in a skiff. With him was Whiff Pooter, another training death camp friend of the Bendover boys.

"Heave to!" Will called. Chud waved to him, and Will brought the Poop-shoot alongside the boys' skiff.

"See anything yet?" Will asked eagerly, as Whiff caught hold of the speedboat's gunwale.

Chud shook his head gloomily. "Maybe the stuff got stuck in a branch of the tunnel," he said. "It might," Will admitted.

"But we planted enough articles for at least one to turn up in the bay." Chud sighed. "How'd you make out at Klenger's house?" he asked.

Will told him.

"Boy, you sure have a way with the women!" Chud kidded him.

Will made a pass with kissy noises at him as Whiff laughed.

"Want me to go out in the Poop-shoot with you?" Whiff asked.

"I wish you would, Whiff," Will told him frankly. "It must be pretty monotonous all alone. And two pairs of eyes are better than one."

"It's okay with me," Whiff said. "I've fished for everything else in these waters. I may as well try my luck at catching a decoy duck!"

"I'm afraid you wouldn't find a decoy very appetizing!" Will laughed, "It's kind of woody tasting" he added, with all the seriousness of one who has tried.

Will ran Chud back to the boat landing in the Poop-shoot, towing the skiff behind. They tied the skiff to the landing, and Chud stepped onto the dock.

"Guess it's time for me to go and watch Klenger's shop," he announced importantly.

"Make sure you don't lose it," Will ribbed him. The Bendover boy, with Whiff sitting in the cockpit beside him, again headed the speedboat out into the bay and started back toward the cove where the skiff had been.

Chud watched the speeding craft as it bounded over the water, then started for the black market district where he was to take up his job of watching the plumbing shop.

As Will had told him, the shop was closed. But Chud peered through the plate-glass window, hoping to detect a sign of activity inside. Like Will, he also enjoyed peeping through others' windows. Finding nothing that aroused his suspicion, he looked for a place where he could screen himself and still watch the store.

Directly across the street was a hot-sausage and green beer stand. Chud brightened. No one, he reasoned, would suspect him of spying if he was stationed there. He went across the street, and after exchanging a few pleasantries with the proprietor, he bit happily into a large sausage, washing the dubious meat down with a warm glass of green beer.

"This is the life!" he told himself complacently.

Chud envisioned himself as a man of Mr. Bendover's age, or maybe a few years younger. He, too, was an internationally famous secret policeman whose daring deeds were known and feared the whole world over. With the Oceania War long over, fanatics clamored for his services, but Chud disdained all cases except those that were a real challenge to his sadism and perversity.

Chud sighed happily. Then the horn of a passing car brought him back to reality. He always hated reality. It was so unpleasant.

Ten sausages and twelve glasses of green beer later, Chud was ready to give up the idea of being an informant.

Nothing exciting had happened at the shop across the street, and the monotony of watching--together with a slight stomach- ache--made the would-be informant wish he had stayed in the skiff. Even vomiting provided little relief.

Chud consulted his notebook. Several people had called at the plumbing shop, rattling the door and knocking on the window when they discovered the store was closed. He had dutifully written down a description of the callers and the license numbers of the cars in which some of them came. But nothing about them struck Chud as suspicious. But then again, flying monkeys would probably not strike his dim brain as suspicious, either.

He closed the notebook and looked at his watch. He had been spying on the shop for all of fifteen minutes.

"Golly," he complained. "How much longer am I supposed to stay on this job?" he said, with his all-too-familiar whine. It occurred to him that neither Mr. Bendover nor Will had set a time for him to quit, and he perked up. "Guess I'll have one more sausage," he decided, "and then break off."

The proprietor looked at Chud as he put the money on the counter. "What, again? You got a death wish, kid?" he said. He shook his head wonderingly and rang up the sale on the cash register. Chud bit off a huge piece of the sausage, then turned to face the store again. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. A man was unlocking the door of the plumbing shop! He glanced furtively up and down the street then disappeared inside!

CHAPTER XV

The Dancing Duck

Chud stared at the shop with mounting excitement, and wondered what he ought to do. He tried to imagine what Hal and Will would do if they were in his place, but failed. Besides, the man might hit back--and injure his precious self.

Putting down the sausage, Chud walked nervously across the street to the shop. He peered cautiously through the window, but the man seemed to have disappeared into a rear room of the store. Chud wet his lips, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, the partly-digested sausages and green beer fighting for freedom in the strange new turmoil of his stomach called fear.

He tried the door and was relieved that it was locked. Desperately he looked up and down the street and then sighed in relief. Coming toward him, swinging his night stick at people as if he didn't have a care in the world, was criminal-police Patrolman "Pink" Riley!

Chud beckoned to him excitedly. The policeman stared at the boy placidly, then eyed him with suspicion as Chud dragged him into the doorway of the adjoining store.

"Faith en' begorrah! Now whut's da meanin' of this?" Riley demanded.

Chud explained the situation as rapidly as he could. At mention of the Bendovers, the patrolman grew sullen. Only recently he had been made to look a fool by one of the boys' clever insinuations, and he smarted from the experience. He still could feel the now-healing scars from the criminal-police Chief's lash on his buttocks. But Yul Bendover's interest in the shop made him pause. He did not wish to be accused of not cooperating with the Political Deviancy Bureau. Such an accusation could cost him his life.

"Pink" Riley pushed back his cap and scratched his head. "We'll just have to wait till the bird comes out," he decided. "Cuz a bird in the hand is worth sumthin' or other."

After a few minutes, the man Chud had seen reappeared. He was small, wimpy and furtive-looking, and he walked with a limp. Under his arm he carried a ledger and a glossy, magazine-like book with an illustrated man's face on the cover. And like the man on the cover he, too, was smoking a pipe. Chud thought that he needed a haircut. Glancing hurriedly up and down the street, the man locked the door of the plumbing shop.

"Let me handle this," Riley said importantly, knowing that it was usually easy to bully these artsy-fartsy types. He stepped out of the adjoining doorway, swinging his club.

"Hey, you," he said officiously. "What were you doing in that store? You better had not been doin' any pre-versions in there!"

A look of fright came into the man's eyes, and he shrank back. "No, you don't!" Riley cried, catching hold of his coat and starting to beat him savagely on the head. "You got some explaining to do!"

Riley fixed the man with a stern look, conscious of the crowd that was rapidly assembling, and how, for a single officer, a crowd could mean a quick end.

"Now, then," he said. "What's your business?"

"I-I'm a friend of Mr. Klenger's," the man stammered. "He sent me to the store on an errand. Er, that is, I have a stopped up drain that needs fixing. Uh, no, that's not it Uh, Smile!--you're on the 'People's Visi-screen Show'! There's a hidden visi-camera on you right now. You're going to be a star!"

"A likely story!" the policeman sneered. "You'll have to do better than that, my friend--or I'll run you in!" "It's true!" the man cried. In the background, people were starting to chant, "Beat him! Beat the freak!"

"Ask him for identification," Chud suggested. Riley glared at the boy.

"Let's be seein' your papers," he told the man shortly.

The man reached for his wallet and took out a business card. He extended it to the patrolman with shaking fingers. "You can see for yourself," he declared. "I'm a bookkeeper. I just do the 'show' on weekends. Today I'm doing his books. Mr. Klenger gave me the keys to his shop so I could go over his accounts."

Riley read the printing on the card as Chud looked at it over his shoulder. It said:

J.R. "BOB" MARTIAN Certified Public Accountant ("It's not my fault!")

"Maybe it's not his card," Chud said brightly. "Maybe he got it from somebody else!"

The stout, red-faced patrolman glared at him again. "I'm handlin' this!" he declared pompously. He turned back to the small, frightened-looking man "Gimme that ledger," he ordered. "And that book, too!"

The man surrendered the ledger reluctantly, but continued to hold the book, which he clutched to his chest. Riley opened the ledger and turned the pages. At that moment, a tall, thin man wormed his way through the crowd.

"Pardon me," he said to the small man, with a significant look. He bumped into Riley and knocked the ledger from the policeman's hands. "Oops-sorry!"

Riley fumed as the stranger pushed past him. "Why don't you watch where you're going, jerk?" he shouted.

"The whole world's watching--Pig!" said the stranger, instantly inflaming the crowd.

"Lookout!" Chud yelled. "He's getting away!" The patrolman stared at him.

"Who?" he asked.

"The--the bookkeeper" Chud said, hopping up and down and wetting his pants in his excitement.

Riley's jaw dropped. The small man was dodging through the crowd, the ledger and book clutched under his arm!

"Stop!" the patrolman roared, trying to run after him. "Stop that man!"

A motorcycle stood at the corner of the street just ahead of the two fleeing men. The thin stranger jumped into the driver's seat and the bookkeeper scrambled up behind, then the motorcycle roared away. Chud's eyes bulged as the machine's motor mis-fired, then leveled off into a peculiar, uneven rhythm. It was the machine Hal and Will had told him about.

"Hey!" he cried. "That's the motorcycle Mr. Kimball reported missing!"

Riley flung his cap on the pavement, put his hands on his hips and glared at the youth. "You got me into this!" he shouted, working himself into a rage. "First, you make me lose a prisoner, then you tell me about the motorcycle when it's too late!"

He brandished his club threateningly at Chud. "You little asshole! If I ever catch you around here again, I'll--!"

What horrible fate awaited him at the policeman's hands, Chud never knew. He was too busy running down the street. He was fat, but he was fast--when his personal interest was at stake.

At the Bendovers' house, Chud found Mr. Bendover and Hal deep in conversation. Hal was already bleeding from several facial cuts.

"Hi!" he greeted Hal. "What happened to you?" Hal told him about his Barmy Bay adventure, and Chud stared disbelievingly.

"Gosh!" he exclaimed. "And I thought my experience was exciting!"

"What was it?" Mr. Bendover asked.

Chud described his adventure with Patrolman Riley. Chud took it seriously and dreaded meeting the policeman again, but Hal laughed--and even Mr. Bendover could not help smiling.

"Don't worry, Chud, he is a nobody. Our family will be glad to kill him as a favor to yours" said Mr. Bendover.

Then the secret policeman said, "That explains why Tweeker wasn't in his father's office when I went to see Mr. Kimball this morning." Seeing the question in the boys' eyes, he related the story of his visit to Fnordside. The thin man was definitely Richard "Bob" Kimball, Jr., he told them. Tweeker was a nickname that had been given to young Kimball when he was in a rock-and-roll band.

"Mr. Kimball is extremely upset about his son," Mr. Bendover concluded. "Up to now, he's done everything he could to shield Tweeker and cover up for him. But he agrees that his son is too deeply involved in Dr. Flosser's disappearance to be protected in the future. I think we can count on Mr. Kimball to give us any information he learns about the punk," he added. "That is, after his hands are out of the casts" he grinned.

"What about the man with the limp?" Chud asked. Mr. Bendover shrugged. "Obviously he's a partisan," he stated.

"We'll check on him later." He looked at Chud meaningly. "I've a hunch the plumbing shop is being used for the gang's purpose," he said. "It may pay us to post a regular watch on it."

Chud turned pale. "You mean me?" he stammered weakly. "Why not?" the secret policeman queried. "You did a good job today. It wasn't your fault the men got away. Besides, we will give you a weapon, and if you kill them in a gunfight, you will be a "Hero of the State"!

Chud beamed at the unexpected praise, not realizing that "Hero to the State" was only awarded posthumously.

"You just leave it to me, Mr. Bendover," he said importantly. "I'll keep an eye on everything that goes on at the shop!"

Hal hid a smile. "Guess I'll go down to the bay," he announced. "Will and Biff may have picked up that stuff we planted in the reservoir. Coming, Chud?" he added.

"You bet," said Chud.

Hal's father then punched his son goodbye.

It was growing dark when the two boys arrived at the boat landing. The Poop-shoot was not in her slip. They scanned the bay, but Will and Whiff were not in sight.

"Come on," Hal said. "We'll look for them in a rowboat."

Chud's face fell at the thought that he might be called upon to row, but Hal seized the oars of the borrowed boat, and Chud stepped into the skiff cheerfully.

Hal rowed the skiff slowly along the shore, the boys' eyes alert for floating objects that might prove to be the articles they had tossed into the reservoir. Beyond a rocky point, they saw the Poop-shoot anchored offshore, Will and Whiff sitting in the cockpit.

Hal rowed the skiff alongside, and the boys greeted one another.

"Any luck?" Hal asked his brother. "Not yet," Will replied. "I'm afraid the stuff came through during the storm last night and was washed out to sea."

"Oh, criminy," Hal said, frowning. "We'd have to make the test all over again."

The Bendover boys swapped places, Hal taking over the wheel of the Poop-shoot with Whiff in the cockpit beside him, Will joining Chud in the skiff. Then they hooked a towline from the speedboat to the skiff, and starting the Poop-shoot's motor. Hal guided the two boats as close to the rocky shore as he dared. The speedboat poked cautiously into the numerous coves which bit into the shore line of the bay, the skiff trailing close behind.

Hours later, there was still no sign of what they were looking for.

"Let's go back," Chud pleaded. "I'm starved!"

"Shut up, or we'll throw you overboard" said Will.

Remembering the incident at the reservoir, Chud shut up.

"We'll try one more cove," Hal said. "If there's no sign of the junk, we'll go home."

He steered the Poop-shoot toward a rocky slit in the shore, then cut the motor. The two boats drifted into the cove with the tide. Hal trained the speedboat's headlight on the steep shore, which was covered with boulders and dumps of medical waste. He swept the light slowly along the water line, the other youths trailing the beam with their flashlights. The lights made a complete sweep around the cove, but the boys could see no evidence of any opening in the rocks, any stream, or any objects in the water. Discouraged, Hal snapped off the headlight and swung the Poop-shoot slowly back toward the mouth of the inlet. Watching from the skiff, which followed in the wake of the speedboat, Will suddenly thought he saw a small white object bump against the Poop-shoot and veer away.

"Hold it! Stop! Whoa! Cease! Desist!" he yelled. Hal quickly cut the Poop-shoot's motor.

Will leaned over the bow of the skiff and shot the beam of his flashlight down at the water. Bobbing and dancing in the waves stirred up by the speedboat was a white decoy duck--with the initials H and W painted on its sides in red, floating amongst chicken feathers!

CHAPTER XVI

The Sailor Moon

"Hal--it's the duck!" Hal ducked.

"I meant to do that!" he said, after a moment. "Looks as though there must be a tunnel after all, Will!"

The Bendover boys grinned across at each other, and in a moment all four youths--Hal, Will, Chud and Whiff--were shouting and thumping one another joyously.

Whiff was the only casualty, suffering a broken nose.

Then they examined the decoy. It evidently had been knocked about quite a bit, for the paint was much the worse for wear. Greatly encouraged, the boys took their places in the two boats and circled the cove once more. They searched every inch of its surface for the yellow pine and the barrel stave, but they found nothing more.

"They must have floated into a branch of the tunnel and got stuck," Will said.

"Either that or they were washed out to sea," said Hal, looking out into the darkness of the bay.

"Or the submarines got them" said Will.

Whiff peered over the side of the speedboat while letting his blood drip into the water. "Must be a current down below," he observed. "Look how roily the water is here."

"Guess it's the fresh water flowing in from the reservoir-- and stirring up the sand and mud particles on the bottom of the cove," Hal told him. "Either that, or a pod of whales are having group sex."

"Golly, I'd like to dive down there and see what's going on!" Will exclaimed.

Hal laughed. "You perv! There'll be time enough for that tomorrow when it's daylight!" he assured his brother. He pressed the Poop-shoot's starter button, and the motor throbbed.

Before he eased the two boats carefully out of the cove, Hal took a piece of white chalk from his pocket and inscribed a large X on a rock, well above the high-tide mark. "That's so we won't have to hunt all over the bay for the right inlet to the cove," he explained with a grin.

He gestured for Will and Chud to join him and Whiff in the speedboat, and they clambered into the cockpit. Then, with a roar of its motor, the speedboat headed for home, the empty skiff bouncing in the Poop-shoot's wake like an aquaparaplane.

Early the next day, Hal and Will returned to the cove. Chud had resumed his watch on the plumbing shop, and Whiff had business of his own. As the boys prepared to dive into the water where they had found the duck floating the night before, they saw an object whirling toward the surface. It was the red-and-white striped barrel stave!

Will leaned over the gunwale of the anchored Poop-shoot and seized the piece of wood which had just emerged from its long journey underground. "Guess that clinches it!" Hal told Will. "If the outlet isn't down there, I'll eat mud! I'll chop off my left ear and feed it to pigs! I'll--"

Will had to intervene with a quick slap to Hal's face. "Thanks" said Hal, "I needed that."

Doffing their swimming shorts, the boys dived overboard together, and swam down toward the bottom of the cove. The thought of the warm, swirling water on their private parts was enticing. The bottom was rock, covered with mud. But in the spot where the boys had dived, the mud particles were churning as if a tremendous force were pushing them up from the floor of the bay! Hal pointed, and the boys swam closer to the churning mud. A strong current, flowing from the bay floor, carried them upward.

Both swimmers realized that they were being borne to the surface by a stream of fresh water, which was being forced through a tunnel and up through the sea by the pressure of a reservoir twenty miles away!

"Whoopee!" they cried, the diluted contaminated water just tingling their skin, instead of causing it to blister and peel as had happened to the unfortunate Chud.

The boys hoisted themselves into the boat, breathing heavily from their exertions. Then they put on their clothes and headed the Poop-shoot for home. Each knew the other was eager to return to Red Skull Mountain and tell "Bob" about their discovery.

As the boys were crossing the boat landing on their way to the autogyro, Hal suddenly clutched Will by the arm. "Do you see what I see?" he whispered, pulling his brother down with him behind an empty barrel.

"A barrel?" said Will.

Walking along the dock was S. "Bob" Hawkins! The old seadog's back was toward the boys, but his short, squat figure and rolling gait were immediately familiar. Hal, especially, never forgot a butt. Anyone's butt.

"What do you suppose he's doing in Smallville?" asked Will.

Hal shook his head. "One of us had better follow him," he said. "He may be on some business for Tweeker."

"I'll do it," Will told him. "You fly the autogyro home and pick up the stuff we'll need for the camp. I'll phone you later and tell you where to meet me."

Hal went on toward the autogyro, and Will trailed S. "Bob" Hawkins. The old mariner seemed to be in no hurry, stopping to look curiously, but with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm, at the motor launches anchored off-shore. And as before, he was singing an obscene ditty:

There once was an Indian maid
Who was very much afraid
That some buckaroo
Would slip it up her sloo
As she lay in the shade.

She had an idea grand:
She filled her slit with sand;
So no buckaroo
Would slip it up her sloo
Without her getting paid.

Oh, the moon shines down on pretty Redwing,
As she lies sleeping,
There comes a-creeping,
A pair of cowboy eyes a-sneaking
In search of the Promised Land!

Now this buckaroo was wise,
He crept between her thighs;
He seemed so cute
With his swelled up root
As he went for the Promised Land.

Little Redwing came to life,
She drew her bowie knife;
With one quick pass
She cut his balls from his ass--
And his sporting days were past.

Oh the sun shines down on pretty Redwing;
As she lies snoring,
There hangs a warning;
A pair of cowboy balls adorning
The flap of her wigwam door!

He walked on toward the warehouses, where crates of war supplies and machine equipment were being hoisted aboard waiting freighters bound for Oceanic ports, to keep both sides "even" in their perpetual war.

Will followed, trying to appear casual. He kept his eyes on the sailor, at the same time sidestepping the shouting, sweating longshoremen who were trundling barrels and crates full of munitions onto the dock.

Hawkins seemed to have his eye on a war-prisoner slave ship anchored off one of the piers. He stared at the tall masts as the vessel rolled gently with the waves.

"Bet he's wishing he could sail on her," Will told himself with a grin. "He looks like he'd fit right in on a slaver!"

The arm of a boom swung out from the ship over the loading platform and hooked a heavy cage filled with emaciated enemy soldiers. The cable drew taut and the cage was hauled swiftly into the air.

"Look out!" a longshoreman yelled.

Will's head snapped up at the warning. One of the rope strands had broken, and the hook had torn loose from the cage. The heavy cargo was hurtling directly at his head! Will flung himself to one side and the cage crashed to the dock--not six feet away--before falling into the bay with the loss of all captives! There was a surge of excited voices as men looked down at him from the rail of the freighter and ran toward him along the wharf.

A longshoreman helped the youth to his feet. "Are you hurt?" he asked. Will shook his head and brushed the dirt from his clothes. He looked at the spot where he had last seen Hawkins, but the sailor had disappeared.

Shaking off the solicitous dock hands with a burst of his machine gun, Will made his way toward the row of supply houses, cheap restaurants, brothels, and secondhand stores which lined the street opposite the wharf.

He looked through the windows of the stores, his eyes traveling swiftly over the occupants. S. "Bob" Hawkins was not among them. Dejected, the boy entered a dingy opium den and made his way toward the phone booths.

"Might as well call Hal and start for the camp," he decided gloomily.

The end booth was unoccupied, and Will slid into it and closed the door. He was about to deposit a coin in the phone's slot when through the thin partition he heard a man speaking in the adjoining booth. There was no mistaking the salty, nautical phrases. It was S. "Bob" Hawkins!

Will pressed his ear to the partition. "Aye, matey," the seaman was saying, "I'll be waiting for ye at the warehouse. An' don't be late, ye brighter, or I'll club ye like a baby seal! 'Tis a ton of fake 'Frop fer the greys, and "yew-know-what" fer Mr. Big! And all well in time fer "The Fist", if there be no more sodden fook-ups!"

He hung up and left the booth. Will waited for a moment, then slipped out and followed him. This time he didn't mean to let Hawkins get away! The old sailor went on down the street to the loading platform of a rambling warehouse. A large, weather-beaten sign on the building read:

SubG Import/Export, INC. Shipments Overseas to All Parts of the World -- Authorized State Enterprise #13013-89D-48s999

Will studied it carefully, but the name meant nothing to him.

He saw Hawkins enter the building, and he quickly but cautiously followed him. The warehouse was stacked with crates, but there were no longshoremen in sight. Hawkins sat down and lit an old corncob pipe. With his first draught, his grin was amplified to cover his scraggly-bearded face.

Slipping behind a large crate, Will waited. A short time later, he heard curiously uneven footsteps approaching along the warehouse floor. From his hiding place, Will could make out a small, wimpy, furtive looking man entering the warehouses--a man who walked with a limp! Will tingled with sudden excitement. During the search for the underground outlet, Chud had told of having seen a man with Tweeker whose description tallied with this stranger's.

"It looks as though Hawkins and Limpy are mixed up with Klenger, too," he said to himself. "We must have discovered the mother of all conspiracies against the State!"

The limping man went straight up to the sailor and they exchanged a few words. Then the small man took some bills from his wallet, counted them carefully and gave the money to Hawkins. For, his part, Hawkins reached into a crate and gave him a tee-shirt and a coffee mug.

At that moment, a dock worker came trundling a hand truck through the warehouse door. He stared curiously at the two men, then pushed the truck toward the crate which concealed Will.

"Oh, no!" Will groaned. "Not this one! Please, please, please! Any other crate but this! I swear I'll be good, just don't take this one! Go away! Shoo!" But straight for Will's crate came the hand truck.

The laborer tilted the crate and slid the shoe of the truck under it. Will glanced helplessly at the nearest place of concealment. It was the stack of crates beside which Hawkins and the limping stranger were standing. An instant later, the longshoreman saw the boy.

"Hey!" he demanded. "What the hell are you doing here?

"Intruder alert! Saboteur! Spy!"

Hawkins and the stranger turned swiftly.

"So it's you!" the old sailor roared, taking a threatening step toward Will.

"You blasted little barstard! Ye offspring of a spermy Bulgar's dog! I'll cut ye stem to stern wit' me cutlass!"

The limping man grabbed his arm. "No, Hawkins!" he cried. He whispered something rapidly in the seaman's ear. Then the two men separated--Hawkins running out the front door of the warehouse, while the man with the limp made for the rear exit.

Will ran after Hawkins. The old seadog's short legs carried him with surprising speed, but Will was more than a match for him as a sprinter. He saw the sailor dodge into a doorway. Will himself quickly ducked behind a truck. After a moment, he saw Hawkins peer out from his refuge. Satisfied that he had shaken off his pursuer, the seaman walked calmly along the row of stores and entered a convenience store. Will went to the window of the shop and stealthily looked in. Hawkins was at the counter, ordering a supply of groceries.

"I guess that'll hold that senile old scumbag for a while," Will mused. He went back to the phone booth in the opium den and called Hal.

"Meet me as fast as you can," Will instructed his brother. He recounted briefly Hawkins' meeting with the man with the limp and described the location of the store from which he was telephoning.

Hal hung up. "It was Will," he explained to Mr. Bendover. "He's trailed Hawkins to a convenience store on the water front. It looks to Will as though the sailor's buying a lot of supplies."

"They probably are for Klenger and his gang up on the mountain," Mr. Bendover decided, after Hal had relayed to him Will's information.

Hal nodded and slipped into his jacket. "I wish you'd come to Red Skull Mountain with us, Dad," he declared. "I bet working together, we could clear up the mystery of Dr. Flosser's disappearance in no time!"

His father smiled, then kicked his son in the head. "I'm expecting an important phone call from Capital City," he told Hal. "I'll join you and Will as soon as it's come through."

Hal picked up the basket of food Aunt Gertrude had packed for him while he was waiting for Will's call, and went to the door.

"Good-bye, everybody!" he shouted.

Aunt Gertrude's head poked around the kitchen door, and Mrs. Bendover came running down the stairs.

"Don't jostle that basket!" his aunt snapped. "There's a lemon meringue pie on top! And nitroglycerine below! Wait till you're out of the building!"

"Take care of yourself, Hal," his mother told him anxiously. "Remember, you've just been through a bad experience! If you're killed, your Aunt and I will have to deal with father alone!"

Hal grinned at her reassuringly and kissed the tip of her nose. The ruse worked, and he bit down as hard as he could. "I'll be all right, Mom" he said, grinning, "you raised me, and I won't die until I get even with you for that!"

He waved, and ran down the porch steps toward the autogyro.

Will was waiting for him impatiently outside the opium den. "Hawkins loaded the supplies in an old jalopy and lit out five minutes ago," he told Hal as he hopped into the seat beside him.

"Never mind," Hal said. "We'll catch up with him on the road. I wonder whose car it is." A few miles out of Smallville on the highway leading toward Red Skull Mountain the boys saw a dilapidated old sedan ahead of them.

"That's the car!" Will exclaimed.

Hal let the autogyro slow down and adjusted its speed to the sedan's rattling pace.

"Think he'll lead us to Klenger--and maybe Dr. Flosser?" Will asked after a while.

"Hope so," Hal replied. "I doubt if he's going to eat all those groceries himself. From the look of that crate in the back seat of his car, he's got enough food and alcohol to last him for weeks!"

A few miles farther, the sedan turned off onto the dirt road which led directly to the mountain. Hal and Will followed in the autogyro at a discreet distance. At the foot of the narrow, winding trail which mounted the slope to the ridge, the jalopy stopped.

Quickly Hal landed the heliopter behind a clump of trees. A man the boys had never seen came out of the brush and helped Hawkins lift the heavy crate from the sedan. Together they started to carry it up the trail. The boys waited until Hawkins and his companion were well up the path, then followed. The trip to the top of the mountain took three times as long as it usually took the boys, for the men frequently had to stop to rest.

"Couch potatoes," thought Hal. Finally, Hawkins and the stranger reached the crest of the mountain and disappeared over a rocky ledge. Hal and Will quickly climbed the last steep section of the trail and peered along the crest of the ridge. The stocky sailor and his helper had vanished--vanished so completely the earth seemed to have swallowed them up!

CHAPTER XVII

Mountain Smokestack

The two boys stared at each other. Then their eyes again traveled over the crest. There was no sign of the men.

"Nuts!" said Hal.

"What in blazes happened to them?" Will said at last.

Hal shook his head. "It beats me," he replied. "I don't see where they could possibly have disappeared to in the time it took us to follow them over the ledge."

"Maybe they were kidnapped by aliens!" said Will.

"There is no such things as aliens. They are childish fables created for the feeble-minded!" said Hal, parroting the official doctrine on the matter. "In any event, if aliens were kidnapping people, I'm sure the government would tell us!" he said, hoping to cover his bets in case the doctrine was changed.

The mountain ridge was covered with trees, rocks and underbrush. But at the top of the trail, where Hal and Will were standing, the land was comparatively clear. There were a few dingleberry bushes which grew only as high as the boys' knees--much too shallow to conceal even a child.

"Come on," Will said impatiently. "This is getting us nowhere."

They started down the valley toward the reservoir, and a half hour later they arrived at the camp. The boys had been away from the mountain for a little more than two-and-a-half days, but "Bob" and Dick greeted them as if they had been gone for years. It took them a full hour to recount their various adventures since they last had seen the engineers.

Much fresh 'Frop was smoked.

"We're convinced now that Dr. Flosser's disappearance is connected in some way with the water's escaping from the reservoir," said Will as he finished his part of the story.

Hal winked at his brother. "Do you have any new theories about that, "Bob"? " he inquired innocently.

"Bob's" grin grew stubborn. "I'm still sticking to my original theory," he said flatly. "Somewhere in this blankety-blank mountain is a subterranean passage which is draining the water into the sea."

"You're perfectly right," Will told him solemnly.

"Eh?" "Bob" stared at him suspiciously.

Hal and Will couldn't contain their news any longer.

"You're right, "Bob" " Hal almost shouted. "There is a tunnel!"

"We found its outlet in the bay!" Will cried.

"What-?" "How-?" The two engineers looked from one boy to the other.

Finally "Bob" found his voice. "Suppose we sit down and discuss this calmly," he said, the words almost sticking in his throat. "I suppose that I may have been hasty suggesting such a far-fetched thing. Perhaps evaporation--" he said.

Hal interrupted, and told him of the articles the boys had planted in the reservoir the night they had left for Smallville, and of finding the decoy and barrel stave two nights later in the bay.

"The water is escaping through the tunnel at night," the boy pointed out. "That's why your shingles didn't reveal any escaping currents during the day."

Dick looked puzzled. "I don't get it," he said. "What's to stop the tunnel from draining off the water in the daytime, too?"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" the two boys screamed, both leaping on Dick and pummeling him into incontinence.

"That's where Klenger and the others come in," Will told "Bob" later. "They must have devised a way to drain off the water only when it suits them."

"And it suits them at night," Hal put in, "because they figure you'll have a tougher time tracing the current in the dark!"

"Bob's" grin tightened grimly as he saw clearly now that the water shortage was no accident. He clenched his pipe intensely. He stared at the mountain slopes, and the boys saw his fingers flex and tighten into fists. Then the tall engineer turned back to them.

"Thanks to you fellows, we now know that the reservoir is not being emptied naturally," he said. "We even know some of the people who are interested in keeping the reservoir from filling. We know that the thing is happening at night. So it is up to us to go on the night shift, too. But first, let's make one more try to see what we can find by daylight."

He rubbed his chin, then thought to himself, "And then see what kind of accidents can befall two nosy little conspiracy fascists who interfere in inevitable cosmic events!"

After lunch, the two engineers and the two boys set out to search for their first objective: the entrance to the subterranean channel. They decided to approach the job systematically--"Bob" and Dick to circle the reservoir in the skiff and inspect the shore along the water line, Hal and Will to accompany them along the shore and investigate the slopes a few feet above the present water line.

"You fellows know," said "Bob", "that the level of the water rises during the day and lowers at night."

"In other words," Dick added, "there's a strip of land eight feet wide running around the reservoir. Every evening it is completely covered with water--and every morning it is completely above water."

AAAAIIIIEEEGGGGHHH!" shouted Will, kicking Dick savagely in the groin, then repeatedly bashing his face against a tree, while shouting, "SHUT UP!" over and over again.

"And somewhere in that strip," "Bob" said, ignoring the violence, "is the mouth of the tunnel--if we can only locate it."

Hour after hour passed as they inspected the strip, prodding and tearing away patches of densely matted vines and shrubs with long poles and sticks, hatchets and hand grenades. The prickly foliage clung tenaciously to the rocky slope and painfully scratched the boys' hands and ankles when they penetrated the underbrush for a closer inspection. But Hal and Will were determined not to overlook a single suspicious- looking bit of terrain. Any one of these dark-green patches might conceal the mouth of the underground passage.

After supper, they resumed their search. As dusk began to settle over the valley, they saw that the water level again was beginning to lower. The boys turned back toward the camp again. Then, in the clear yellow light which still bathed the top of Skull Mountain, they saw a column of smoke rising from the crest. They watched it in silence.

Then Hal gripped Will's arm. "Notice anything different about that smoke?" he asked. Will stared at it for a moment, then shook his head.

"Maybe it's because we're seeing it from another angle," Hal told him, "but it looks to me as though it's rising from the clearing where Hawkins and the other guy disappeared so suddenly at the top of the trail!"

"You're right!" Will cried. "It is! So what?"

Hal explained that the two might be connected.

"Oh" said Will.

They shouted to "Bob" and Dick in the skiff, saying they would join the engineers later, and started up the hillside. Darkness closed in around them as they climbed steadily toward the still-visible stream of smoke.

"I hope it's still smoking when we get there," Will grunted, as he mounted a particularly steep section of the slope. "I've run up and down this hill so often I feel like a mountain goat!" Hal said that he, too, could use a mountain goat about then.

No sooner had he spoken the words than the column of smoke disappeared. Will picked up a rock and threw it at the ridge.

"That does it!" he declared disgustedly. "From now on the whole mountain can go up in smoke, for all I care! Sod this place and these people! Let's just call in a freakin' air strike and kill them all!"

Hal smiled in spite of himself. He felt much the same as Will, but he was determined to find the source of the smoke. "Come on," he urged. "We've almost reached the top. It would be foolish to turn back now."

"Okay. Poop!" Will gave his assent reluctantly, but secretly he was still as eager as Hal to find the source of this baffling phenomenon.

Clambering over rocks in the now almost complete darkness, they finally arrived at the treeless patch at the top of the trail. The boys had hoped that a few last wisps of smoke would be curling from the crest when they arrived there--but the air was clear of smoke.

"Not a trace of it left," said Will.

"We'll wait," Hal decided. "If the smoke starts up again, we'll be here to spot it."

They made themselves comfortable on the ground. Overhead the stars were out, and a full moon was rising above the hill on the other side of the reservoir. The moon made it almost as light as day. The night air was cool and fresh. As they sat there, they suddenly saw a figure emerge from the trees beyond the clearing.

"Duck!" Hal whispered. "He's coming this way!"

Will stood there for a moment, expecting to see a small, feathered bird, before realizing his error and getting down. They hid behind the rocky ledge at the top of the narrow mountain trail. From this shelter they could see the figure clearly now in the moonlight. He looked more like a giant gorilla than a man--a tall, hairy, barefooted creature with shaggy hair. It was the mountain man-thing!

The beast came into the clearing, and Hal and Will watched him closely. He was carrying an armful of fresh-cut firewood which he dumped beside a tangle of dingleberry and thorn bushes. Then he looked around the ridge to make certain he was unobserved before lighting his hand-carved stone pipe. The boys shrank under the ledge as the huge furry creature went to the top of the trail and looked down.

For a moment, it seemed inevitable that he would see them, but the black shadow thrown by the ledge screened their bodies. Satisfied, the monster went back to the patch of brush where he had dropped his load of wood.

He dropped another load, and not of wood. Its smell was notable.

Then, afterwards, he seemed to be tugging at something, and in a moment the boys saw him lift upright a slab of rock about the size of a card table. He pushed the slab to one side, exposing a narrow cleft in the mountaintop. Then, cradling the wood in his arms, the beast gave of a gleeful grunt and snort, then jumped into the fissure--and vanished from the boys' sight!

CHAPTER XVIII

The Escaping Stream

Hal and Will ran to the spot and peered down the cleft in the mountaintop. After a slight drop, the fissure appeared to turn sharply parallel with the surface of the ridge. Then the crack widened, and sloped gradually downward inside the mountain.

The boys looked at one another. Could this be the spot they had seen the smoke coming from?

"It must be," Hal said slowly. "The fuzzy monster was carrying firewood."

"Zowie!" Will exclaimed. "To think of the times we've walked past this crack and never knew it was here!"

"No wonder," Hal said, pointing to the rock slab. They studied the slab closely. They saw that it could be lowered from the inside to close the crevice in the rocks. This obviously was what had occurred when they had trailed the creature on the last occasion. It was easy to see why one could pass this innocent-looking slab a hundred times without noticing it. This, too, must be the answer to the disappearance of Hawkins and his helper earlier in the day.

"We should have been tipped off by the handle!" said Will.

"Or maybe the words "Secret Entrance" painted on the top" said Hal.

Obeying an impulse, Hal lowered himself to the landing formed by the cleft as it veered parallel with the mountain surface. He lifted his arms over his head and tugged the slab back into place. Then, waiting until Will had a chance to see how it looked, he pushed the flat stone away from the opening again.

"It was perfect!" Will told him. "Nobody could see the slab under all those bushes. Yet the rock covers the cleft completely! We are blameless! Father can't possibly accuse of us complicity!"

"But for the smoke to come out, the crack has to be open," Hal said. "In that case, the cleft could be spotted easily."

"Sure," his brother admitted. "But who's to see it? Since the squatters moved out, there's nobody on this part of the mountain except "Bob" and Dick and you and I--"

"And the beast and Klenger's gang," Hal finished for him.

But Will wasn't fazed. "Klenger and his gang know about the cleft," he pointed out. "Hawkins uses it, and the others must know about it, too."

Hal laughed. "You win, Will." With his flashlight, Hal stepped down into the rocky fissure and shot the beam into it. The light revealed a gradually widening passage which sloped downward toward the heart of the mountain.

"Let's have a look," Will said, dropping down beside his brother. He borrowed Hal's torch and played it on the walls of the irregular passageway. They were grimy with smoke smudges and some kind of bad-smelling slime. "Come on!" he urged.

One behind the other, the boys squeezed through the slit. Then, crawling on their hands and knees, they started slowly down the tunnel. Even with Will's flashlight casting its reassuring beam in front of them, both boys experienced a sudden dread of this descent into the unknown. Their vivid imaginations pictured danger lurking beyond every twist and turn in the tunnel--Klenger or a member of his gang, a wild beast, a cave-in which would snuff out their lives and bury them in a mountain tomb, Ganomies and Ogreys and--gasp--even Fairies!

Will's fingers encountered a cold, clammy object, half imbedded in the floor of the passage. He drew back his hand with a startled gasp--and the flashlight went skittering along the tunnel, then came to a stop with its beam shining directly on the object. It was a human skull. Will let out a sigh of relief!

"Phew. Something normal!" he thought. "It's easy to see the beast has traveled up and down this shaft. Here is his trade-mark," he whispered with a grin.

Hal grinned back. So did the skull, its teeth having been replaced by broken golf tees. "But for Pete's sake hold on to that flash," he warned. "If we lose it, we'll be in a pretty fix! The paperwork alone will kill us--it's a restricted item!"

Will retrieved the flashlight, and they crawled on. Fifty feet farther, the low, narrow shaft turned sharply and a sudden gust of air struck the boys. It smelled like flatulence. Will shot the flashlight's beam ahead. The passage was greatly enlarged, being tall enough to stand up in and wide enough for two to walk abreast. The boy uttered a low exclamation.

"What's the matter?" Hal asked.

"There are two tunnels ahead!" Will told him. "We've come to a fork!"

He crawled forward until he reached the enlarged section of the crevice, then stood up and pointed as Hal followed him.

"Which one shall we take?" Will asked.

Hal studied the tunnels thoughtfully, carefully examining the rocky floor of their entrances for a possible clue. He straightened up and scratched his head. It was a toss-up.

"Let's go this way," he said, indicating the tunnel which forked to the left. "The sign over it says, 'Don't Go in Here.' "

"Okay" said Will. Their progress was much easier now, and far more rapid. The broad passageway sloped constantly downward, until the boys became convinced that they were in the very heart of the mountain. The air in the passage was damp and smelled like death, and they breathed it in gratefully.

"Wonder where it comes from?" Will asked.

"Probably from the valley," Hal said, "although as near as I can figure, the tunnel doesn't seem to be sloping in that direction."

They started to notice what they first thought were mummified human remains. On closer inspection, it turned out to be dozens of small, grey, recently dead bodies. Clearly not human, the boys were indifferent to them, except once, when Will stepped on one and it oozed foul-smelling green goop onto his boot.

"Ecch!" said Will, scraping off the corrosive muck.

Down, down, they went. Suddenly the tunnel leveled off, and they came to what appeared to be a small landing place. Beyond the landing they could see that the shaft dropped sharply for several feet and the boys felt a swift current of air.

Then they heard it. Will grabbed Hal's arm.

"Listen!" he whispered. From the depth below came the gurgle of running Water! The boys ran to the edge of the landing and Will shot the beam of his flashlight at the foot of the drop. Flowing through a narrow tunnel at the foot of their own shaft ran a swift, bubbling stream of water.

"It's the water from the reservoir!" Hal gasped.

"How do you know?" Will asked anxiously.

"It's got to be!" Hal told him. "It's flowing from the direction of the valley!"

"Directions don't mean much inside of a mountain," said Will doubtfully.

"Well, there's one way to find out," Hal sighed. "We'll come back here during the day. If the water isn't flowing, we'll know the tunnel runs from the reservoir!"

Excited over their discovery, the boys started back up the shaft. They climbed rapidly for they now were sure of their way. When they reached the fork, Will examined the floor of the right-hand passageway carefully with the flashlight. About a dozen feet from the fork he found a piece of bark. Here was all the proof they needed that the right fork led to the place where the wood was being burned. Somewhere at the base of the shaft was a cavern, they believed, in which Klenger and his gang might even be holding Dr. Flosser.

But the boys felt it wiser to join forces with "Bob" and Dick before they undertook to investigate the right-hand passage. Dropping on their hands and knees, the two youths crawled into the narrow fissure which led to the mountaintop. Will went ahead with the flashlight, Hal following a few feet behind. The air was thinner in the narrow shaft, and they crawled upward as rapidly as the narrow walls permitted.

They were still some distance from the top when Hal stopped and began to sniff the air. Coming toward them from the passage below was the odor of wood smoke!

In a flash, he remembered the open fissure at the top of the mountain--and groaned. In their eagerness to descend the shaft, he and Will had completely overlooked the fact that the creature had left the opening exposed because he intended smoke to pour from it!

Hal saw Will sniff the air, and knew that his brother also was aware of the odor.

"Hurry, Will!" he called throwing caution to the wind. "We've got to get out of here!"

The boys' fingers tore at the tunnel walls in their efforts to achieve greater speed. The smoke was thicker now. It wreathed around them, stinging their eyes and making them cough.

"Put your handkerchief over your nose and mouth!" Hal shouted.

Will nodded and obeyed. They crawled on, praying that each turn in the narrow and tortuous shaft would be the last--and that they would see the starry sky and breathe the fresh mountain air. Smoke now began to stream through the shaft in a dense cloud. The boys clutched at their throats and coughed until they thought their lungs would burst. Hal stumbled and fell. He tried to rise, but the strength seemed to ebb from his legs.

"Keep going, Will!" he called hoarsely. "I can't make it! Get...even...with...them...for...me! Gaack!"

He saw Will turn and stagger toward him. Then the flashlight fell from his brother's hand--and the smoke-filled tunnel was plunged into darkness!

CHAPTER XIX

To the Rescue

How long he had been unconscious, Hal did not know. His eyes still smarted from the smoke, and his throat was painfully sore. His eyelids fluttered weakly--and he saw a starry sky. Then a hand tilted a canteen toward his lips and cool mountain vodka dribbled into his parched mouth.

"Take it easy, smoky" a voice said. "You'll be all right."

Hal's eyes opened wide. It was "Bob".

The youth raised himself on his elbows. "Where-? What-?" Then he remembered.

"Will?" he asked anxiously. "Is he-?"

"Bob" pushed him back gently, seeming to inadvertently bang his head on the rock on which his head rested.

"He's safe, too. Looks like you two were on the right side of the luck plane." Hal sank back, relieved.

"What happened?" he said, after a while.

"Bob's" grin widened. "We saw the smoke when you and Will started up the slope," "Bob" told him, "and figured you were going to investigate it."

"When the smoke disappeared and you didn't return," Dick added, "we came up on the ridge to find you."

Hal groaned, then punched Dick weakly in the face, re- breaking his nose.

"Bob" nodded. "Then we saw the open crevice and crawled in. Smoke started to come up and we were about to climb out when we saw your light. That's all," he concluded simply.

It was far from all, Hal knew. It must have taken plenty of courage and strength for "Bob" and Dick to rescue the boys from the smoke-filled tunnel at the risk of their own lives.

His lips smiled at "Bob", but his eyes spoke his gratitude.

Little did they know that they had managed to stumble out of the cave on their own, before passing out, despite the best efforts of "Bob" and Dick to close the rock slab, trapping them inside.

Will stirred on the ground beside him, and "Bob" and Dick gave their attention to the other Bendover boy.

Hal looked about him. A short distance away, smoke still was pouring in a tall column from the open fissure.

Some time later when they had returned to camp, Hal and Will told the engineers in detail what had happened. Somewhere deep inside the mountain, they were convinced, was the scene of the Klenger gang's activities.

When they described the gurgling stream at the base of the crevice, "Bob" and Dick stared. "Do you think it was flowing from the valley?", "Bob" asked excitedly.

"That's my hunch, and at the bottom, I bet there are enemy submarines waiting to scoop it up!" Hal told him, forgetting the outlet in Barmy Bay.

The boys told the engineer of their plan to descend the crevice the next day. If they found the water was not flowing, they could all be certain then that the tunnel at the base of the crevice ran from the reservoir and carried away the water which Smallville so desperately needed, to instead support the enemy war effort.

"Dick and I will join you," "Bob" said promptly. "But first, we'll equip ourselves with gas masks," he added significantly, "or our next trip down the crevice may be our last!"

"We might even let you two boys have a couple of masks" he added as an afterthought.

"There are some gas masks in your office in Smallville," Dick told him. "I stowed 'em there after our last field trip. Guess I'd better go get them."

"Aaarrgghh!" Hal and Will screamed in unison--attacking Dick with tremendous violence--then broke off, laughing at the cringing, bleeding figure curled up in fear on the ground in front of them.

Will explained that it was important that the boys' father be told about the cavern they believed was concealed in the mountain, so he could take steps to assure the capture and execution of Klenger's gang.

"So we will get the masks" said Hal. "Bob" agreed, and gave the youths the key to his office.

"You'll find the gas masks in the closet, between the big pile of gold bars and the pile of marital aids" he told them.

Once again, the Bendover boys found themselves above the highway between Red Skull Mountain and Smallville. They had arranged to meet the engineers at the crevice on top of Red Skull Mountain early in the morning.

Hal flew rapidly, and the cool night air rushing into the speeding autogyro cleared away every sensation the boys retained of their desperate adventure in the smoky tunnel. They stopped at "Bob's" office to pick up the gas masks, then flew through the streets of Smallville.

The usually bustling black market section seemed strangely quiet and deserted, until the boys remembered it was almost midnight-- well after curfew. As they approached Klenger's shop, Hal slowed the heliopter and the boys looked carefully through the plate-glass window.

Then, swiftly, the elder Bendover boy brought the autogyro to a landing, out of ear-shot, but near the store.

In the rear of the shop they had seen a light!

The boys walked stealthily back to the window and peered in through the glass. The glare came from a transom over the door of Klenger's office.

Will tried the door of the shop. It was unlocked. He started to open it, but Hal motioned to him to wait.

"Hold it," he whispered. Hal looked along the deserted street. In front of a pornographic book store, a few doors away, some empty crates had been piled at the curb to be picked up by the rubbish collectors. He carried a crate to the door and stood it on its end. Then he stood on the crate and pushed open the door a few inches with one hand, while with the other he stuffed a portion of his handkerchief between the bell which announced a customer's entry into the shop and its hammer. "It can't give us away now," he whispered to Will with a grin, and pushed the door wide.

They slipped into the shop, closing the door quietly behind them. The door to Klenger's office was closed, but the transom was slightly ajar, and the boys could hear a faint murmur of voices.

Will gestured to Hal, and they tiptoed toward the office. As they came to the end of the counter, they heard a muffled thumping.

"What was that?" Will whispered, startled. The thumping sounded again. The boys leaned over the counter and looked down. Someone was lying on the floor of the store--bound and gagged!

Will ran around the counter and struck a match. A pair of eyes looked at him appealingly, and a voice made strangled noises behind the gag. The boys began to chuckle to themselves. It was Chud Moron!

CHAPTER XX

Mrs. Klenger Intervenes

Will removed the gag from Chud Moron's mouth and loosened the long pieces of wire which bound his hands and feet, both of which were bleeding.

"Wow!" Chud gasped. "Am I glad you two came along! I'm not into bondage--that hurts me!"

"Not so loud," Hal cautioned him in a low voice, glancing toward the office.

"How did it happen?" Will asked. In an undertone Chud recounted how, after a late movie, he had walked through the neighborhood toward the lot where his car was parked and decided to pass by the plumbing shop to see if everything was in order. On the way, he was approached by an ugly hooker, and when he turned her down, she followed him for blocks, screaming abuse, until he had strangled her. Someone saw him do it, and a crowd chased him, igniting a small riot in which the police killed dozens with their riot-control forklift-compactors.

Eventually, the internal security forces had swept the whole area clear with vomit gas, while he had hidden in a sewer.

Afterwards, he had meandered back to the plumbing shop. To his surprise, he saw a light--and cautiously investigated. But a bell tinkled the moment Chud stepped into the shop, and he barely had time to bat an eye before he found himself bound and gagged and spanked and dumped behind the counter.

"I guess I'm not much of a detective," Chud sighed dejectedly as the boys grinned. He looked at them queerly. "Hey," he inquired. "How come the bell didn't ring when you came in?"

Will described Hal's use of the handkerchief.

"Wow, of all the things you can do with a handkerchief!" said Chud.

Will looked at him askance.

"What I don't understand," the blond-haired boy whispered, frowning, "is why the men didn't lock the door after they discovered you were able to enter the shop."

"Lock's all mucked up," Chud replied promptly. "I heard one of the men say so."

"Who were the men, Chud?" Hal queried.

"Tweeker and Limpy," he told Hal. "They went into that office at the back of the store."

The three boys looked at the light in the transom over the closed door. Although they could hear the men's voices, the sound was too faint for them to distinguish the words.

Suddenly a new sound came through the slightly open transom--a sustained, rushing noise similar to the sound the boys used to make by blowing across the rim of a beer mug. The youths stared at one another, puzzled.

Hal tiptoed close to the door and placed a chair beside it. He mounted the chair and gently pushed open the transom a few inches more. Then he looked inside the office. Tweeker and the man with the limp were kneeling on the floor in front of a small iron safe.

Tweeker was holding an acetylene torch, and its bluish flame was cutting a circle through the metal around the lock of the safe.

"Amateurs" thought Hal. "Haven't they ever heard of Semtex(tm)?"

Hal felt a tug at his trouser leg and looked down. It was Chud. Will had discovered the door's keyhole was empty, and was intently observing the men through the tiny aperture. But Chud was completely mystified as to what was taking place. He looked up at Hal, his face tortured with curiosity.

"What's going on?" he demanded in a hoarse whisper.

Hal started to tell his impatient friend, then wisely decided to climb down from the chair lest his voice carry through the transom.

"They're cracking the safe with a blowtorch," he told Chud when he was standing beside him.

"Blowtorch!" the boy breathed. "Lemme see! Oooo! Oooo!" He climbed eagerly up on the chair.

"Take it easy, Chud, you putz!" Hal whispered urgently, "or you'll give us away!"

Chud nodded reassuringly, then tried to peek through the transom. But being inches shorter than Hal, he found his eyes were below the tilted glass. "I can't see!" he whispered. "Try to locate a couple of books for me to stand on, willya? I wanna see! I wanna see! C'mon, pretty please!"

Hal sighed and nodded reluctantly. Something told him Chud was headed for trouble, which might not be a bad thing, he mused. Then he started to think about crossfire, and dismissed the idea. He brought back a few tied-up stacks of some magazine-like book with a big "X" on the cover from the counter then stacked them on the seat of the chair.

Chud climbed on top of the stack, teetering precariously.

"Watch out--!" Hal whispered sharply. He sprang forward to support the youth, but Chud was past all aid. He gave Hal a wild, despairing look as the magazine-like books skidded out from under him, and he had to leap to the floor past the tumbling books!

The boys heard startled exclamations from inside the office --and the acetylene torch was shut off.

"Behind the counter!" Hal whispered. "Quick!"

He pulled the chair from its position in front of the door, and then the three youths ducked behind the end of the long counter loaded with plumbing gadgets and bondage gear. A moment later, the office door was flung open, and Tweeker stared out.

Limpy's face, pale with fright, appeared at the thin man's shoulder. "What was it?" he asked, trembling.

Tweeker stared at the magazine-like books sprawled near the upright chair. At that moment a black cat walked into the rectangle of light which streamed through the open doorway. He stopped and looked at the two men, then meowed piteously.

Tweeker laughed. "A snooping cat--that's what it was!" he said, pointing. "Must've jumped on the chair and knocked all those books off!" He picked up a magazine-like book and threw it at the animal. "Goddamn Meower," he yelled.

The cat squealed with fright and anger, then ran to another part of the shop where it began to noisily hack up a hair ball.

"Black!" Limpy whispered, staring after it. "That means bad luck! It is a harbinger of Leviathan!"

"Forget it," Tweeker told him shortly. He went back into the office. "Come on," he said impatiently. "We've got to finish this job." The small man limped after him and closed the door.

Soon, the boys heard the sound of the acetylene torch again. They crept out from behind the counter, and Hal again placed the chair beside the door.

"This time," he whispered to Chud, "you stay on the floor where nothing can happen--I hope!"

He stood on the chair and peered through the transom, while Will resumed his position at the keyhole. Tweeker and Limpy were concentrating on the safe, but their voices could be heard over the sound of the blowtorch.

"Space jumper all set for the getaway?" Tweeker asked. Limpy nodded. "It's waiting for us at the south end of the airport."

Getaway! Airport! Hal signaled a huddle. "We've got to think of some way to stop them," he muttered to the others. "But how? Knives? Clubs?"

"We'd better ask Dad to take a hand in this," Will whispered. "Those men may have electro-guns!"

Hal approved, but Chud shook his head. "Won't work," he whispered back. "Your dad's in Capitol City."

"Capitol City!" gasped Will.

"He got a phone call shortly after you left for the mountain," Chud went on. "Said he'd be back as soon as he could."

Will groaned inwardly. "And we wanted to tell him about the cavern!"

Chud looked interested, but Hal headed him off. "If I know Dad, he'll be back in time for the fireworks." He turned to Chud.

"The autogyro's parked a few doors to the left of the shop," he said in a rapid undertone. "Drive to Chief Cowlick's house and bring him here!"

Chud quailed as he thought of the burly, gravelvoiced chief of police. "In the middle of the night?" he protested. "I'll have to wake him up! He'll shoot me!"

"I don't care if you have to drag him out of bed! I don't care if he's with three cheerleaders and a goat!" Hal told him firmly. "Just bring the chief here as fast as you can!"

Chud sighed and tiptoed out of the shop. Hal and Will resumed their watch--Will at the keyhole, Hal on the chair. A few moments later, they saw the acetylene torch cut a complete circle through the metal of the safe, and the lock fell out onto the floor. The small but heavy door swung open, and Tweeker reached eagerly into the safe and took out a metal box.

He snapped the lid open and dumped the contents of the box hurriedly on a desk. The thin man fumbled through some papers impatiently, then snatched up an envelope. He drew out a wad of currency. "There it is!" he cried exultantly, flipping the bills with his thumb. "Five thousand "Bob" bucks! Klenger's promised me this cash ever since I started to do his dirty work--but he never delivered. Well, we're square now--even if Klenger doesn't know it!"

But Limpy wasn't listening. The small, furtive man was nervously poring through the scattered papers, wetting his lips and muttering under his breath. Finally he found what he was so anxiously looking for--a bank check. He stared at it, his fingers trembling.

"That it?" Tweeker asked. "Yes," Limpy told him. He looked at Tweeker, his mouth quivering. "For years, Klenger's been holding this against me," he said, "--this check. I used to be a respectable accountant. I worked for Klenger. Then, so that my family could come along on the 'trip', I forged his name to this check."

He broke off and stared at the slip of paper. "Klenger threatened to expose me--to have me sent to jail unless I worked for him as his personal slave/accountant. But now I have Klenger's evidence against me!" he said, his voice suddenly gleeful. "I'll send in the check and be free! I'll finally be able to get my family memberships!"

Tweeker laughed. "We're both free, Limpy! You to go home to your family--me to spend five thousand "Bob" smackers on the jaded pleasures of the flesh!"

So engrossed were the boys with the scene inside Klenger's office that they almost failed to notice that someone was entering the street door of the shop. Hal turned sharply as he heard the front door dose, and saw the shadowy figure of a woman outlined against the glass panel.

He snapped his fingers to attract Will's attention, then stepped softly down from the chair. A moment later, from behind the counter, the boys saw the woman approach the office and open the door. The light fell on her face. All she was wearing was a soiled negligee.

"It's Mrs. Klenger!" Will whispered excitedly. The woman stared at the open safe, then at Tweeker and Limpy. "What are you two assholes doing here?" she said coldly.

CHAPTER XXI

Midnight Arrest

Chud landed the autogyro in front of Chief Cowlick's house and got out. The house was dark, just as he feared. He would have to roust the burly police chief out of bed. Chud sighed heavily and started unhappily up the walk to the porch.

"Everything happens to me," he observed gloomily. He climbed the porch steps and rang the doorbell. There was no answer.

Bracing himself for the blast he was sure would come, the boy rang again. A light flashed on in the downstairs hall, and Chief Cowlick came down the stairs, pulling a bathrobe around his portly, spandex-covered body. The chief's eyes were red with rage, and his face wore a scowl that made Chud quake inwardly.

After firing an ineffective burst of machine-gun fire through it, the policeman flung open the door.

"What d'ya mean by waking me up in the middle of the night?" he roared, a machine gun in one hand, a bullwhip in the other.

"I had to, Chief," Chud explained hastily. "It's important!"

Cowlick stared at him, and his scowl deepened. "Oh, so it's you, is it?" He shook a stubby finger under Chud's nose. "If this is one of your tricks, Chud Moron," Chud backed away, "I'll turn you over to the internal security troopers!"

"Honest, Chief," he stammered, "it's on the level!"

"It'd better be!" Cowlick threatened. "Or I'll lock you up for loitering with intent to gawk and hooliganism! You'll get to spend the night in a cell with "Bubba" and "Snapper!"

"It appeared to Chud that Cowlick himself was guilty of overacting, with his loud, angry voice and wild gesticulations, but he meekly held his tongue.

"What is it you want?" the police chief growled.

Chud hurriedly explained the situation at the plumbing shop. When he mentioned Hal and Will, Cowlick's bushy eyebrows bristled--an eerie sight.

"You mean the Bendover kids are in this, too?" he demanded. Chud nodded.

"Hurry, Chief!" he pleaded. "I've got an autogyro waiting!" He took the officer's arm, and Cowlick started down the steps--then remembered he was attired in ladies' undergarments, beneath the spandex and robe.

He shook off the boy's hand. "Wait'll I change into my uniform," he snapped. He went into the house and started up the stairs. "But I'm warning you, if this is a joke--."

His words were lost as he disappeared around a turn in the stairs.

A short time later, Chud flew over to the plumbing shop. Cowlick took out his flechette shotgun and slipped off the safety catch.

"Golly," Chud said nervously, "do you suppose there'll be any shooting?"

"Can't tell," the chief grunted. "But if there is, I'm ready for 'em! You just watch out for flying pieces of perp'!"

He got out of the car, and Chud followed him. Hal and Will met them at the door of the shop.

"Tweaker and Limpy are back there where the light is," Hal whispered to Cowlick. "Mrs. Klenger's there, too,"

Will added. "She just walked in on them."

Chief Cowlick waved his shotgun and walked to the rear of the shop, his burly figure filling the doorway of the office. "All right, lady--Freeze!" he said, "drop that negligee!"

The three boys saw Mrs. Klenger whirl around with a startled look, her dirty negligee falling around her ankles.

"What's the idea?" the buxom woman asked.

"You're all under arrest!" the chief announced gruffly.

"You ain't got nothin' on me!" Mrs. Klenger declared, ironically.

Cowlick looked at Hal. The boy nodded.

"You're coming too, lady," the chief said firmly.

"You can't arrest me!" Mrs. Klenger's voice rose shrilly. "I ain't guilty o'nothin'! My husband owns this shop! I came here for some papers my husband asked me to get for him and found these two crooks," she pointed a finger at Tweaker and Limpy, "breakin' into the safe! They're the guilty ones!"

Cowlick's mouth tightened. "You're still coming along with me!" he said.

The woman put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "What the fuck for?" she shouted, again, ironically.

"I'm holding you as a witness," the chief snapped back promptly, "and to take a 'breathalyzer' test" he said, winking at the boys.

Mrs. Klenger flashed Chief Cowlick a bitter look and subsided. The chief produced a pair of handcuffs and snapped the links on Limpy's left wrist and Tweaker's right, handcuffing the two men together. He then put his arm around Mrs. Klenger's waist. The boys watched as the Chief marched his three prisoners to the door.

Will--especially--knew that Mrs. Klenger gave good 'breathalyzer', and he envied the Chief his interrogation.

"That takes care of a few of the gang," Hal said, grinning. "Now for the others!"

CHAPTER XXII

The Secret Tunnel

Daylight was breaking over Red Skull Mountain when Hal and Will climbed to the top of the narrow trail. "Bob" and Dick were waiting for them on the ridge. The boys unslung the gas masks from their shoulders and handed one to each of the engineers, keeping a mask apiece for themselves. They also kept the extra filters to themselves.

"See your dad?" "Bob" questioned them, looping the strap of his mask around his neck.

"Dad wasn't home, thank god" Hal told him. "But we left a message for him to hurry out here the minute he returns. By the way, you'll be glad to know that Tweeker, Limpy and Klenger's wife are safe in the jug."

"Huh! When did all that happen?" asked "Bob", with genuine surprise.

Hal related their adventure at Klenger's shop with Chud the evening before. "Bob" and Dick laughed heartily when Will described how Chud had roused Chief Cowlick from his "sleep", though "Bob" seemed to be deep in thought.

By now it was bright daylight.

"Are we all set?" "Bob" asked.

They chorused their assent, and the tall engineer strode toward the patch of dingleberry and thorn bushes where the cleft in the mountaintop was concealed. A moment later, the thin, rectangular slab of rock had been lifted, and the narrow opening of the crevice was exposed.

"Bob" turned to the boys. "Guess you two better go first," he said, "it might be dangerous."

The youths agreed, and taking a flashlight from his jacket Will slid into the fissure and squeezed through the narrow slit which widened into a sloping shaft. Hal followed--then "Bob" and Dick. Crawling on their hands and knees, the four started down inside the mountain.

Dick insisted that "Bob" go in before he did, despite "Bob's" insistence that he would "be good."

They came to the fork and Will paused.

"This shaft leads to the stream," he informed the engineers, pointing to the tunnel at the left of the fork. "Hal and I figure the other shaft drops down to a cavern where Klenger's gang hides out."

"We'll take a look at it when we come up," "Bob" promised.

They descended the passageway which led to the underground stream, walking erect now that the crevice was large enough to stand in. Suddenly, the passage leveled off--and the boys quickened their strides as they saw the small landing. Beyond the landing, they knew the shaft dropped abruptly to the tunnel which carried the underground stream!

This time, the boys noticed that something strange and new had been added.

Four very large glass and steel containers, each containing some kind of bubbling, noxious, green-glowing substance.

Within the revolting liquid were large, unidentifiable masses, and each container was labeled with brass plates, which read: "JH", "AH", "EP", and "JK". Not wanting to fiddle with the foul-looking containers or their contents, which smelled far worse than a cesspit, the boys ignored them and continued on, figuring that they were some type of expedient sanitation storage devices.

At least the gang were tidy enough to police up most of the inhuman remains of the grey-colored animals that the boys had trod on before at this level.

"Come on!" Will urged the engineers, finally. "This is it!"

They ran to the edge of the landing and listened. There was no sound from the base of the shaft. Will knelt on the rocky floor and beamed his flashlight at the foot of the drop. Clearly visible in the ray of light was the narrow tunnel where the night before the boys had seen a swift-flowing stream of water. Now the tunnel was damp, and tiny pools of oily water sparkled in the light. But the stream itself was not flowing!

"That proves it!" Hal declared, his eyes shining. "It's the tunnel which runs from the reservoir."

"Bob" nodded. "There's no doubt about it now," he said slowly. In the dark, the boys could not see his perpetual grin take a decidedly more aggressive appearance, nor his pipe jut upwards in a more assertive manner. He stared down at the damp channel.

"There can be only one explanation why the water runs from the reservoir through that passage at night--and not during the day," he added. "And that's a lock!" He explained briefly to the boys how a simple lock could be set up in the tunnel to sluice or dam the flow of the water at will. "The lock is probably close to the mouth of that tunnel-- where the channel is wider," he concluded."

Dick grinned. "All we have to do now," he pointed out, "is what we've been trying to do all along--locate the mouth of the tunnel in the valley and close it up!"

The boys screamed and threw Dick head-first into the empty stream bed. But despite being covered in mud, with a nasty head gash bleeding profusely across his face, and two cracked ribs, Dick crawled slowly out of the trench, even smiling at the mild treatment he had received this time.

"Bob's" grin twisted wryly. "You're a cheerful soul," he told his friend, kicking him in the face so hard that he fell back down into the sluiceway.

"Maybe we could block off the tunnel here," Will said eagerly, indicating the channel at the base of the shaft.

"Bob" shook his head. "The block wouldn't hold in such a small space against the pressure of a fast flowing stream," he replied.

Will poked his flashlight at the jagged gap in the rock where the tunnel snaked underground toward the valley. "As long as the water's dammed up during the day," he said hopefully, "one of us might be able to crawl through the tunnel to the mouth!"

"Nothing doing!" Hal told his younger brother promptly. "That hole is small enough as it is--and the passage might get a lot smaller as it goes along!"

"Hal's right, Will," "Bob" said. "It sounds like a nice way to commit suicide!" he sighed. "We'll just have to keep hunting for the mouth of the tunnel till we find it."

"I think we'll know more when we explore the right-hand passageway," said Hal.

Dick slowly, painfully, and far more penitently, crawled from the ditch, and the party resumed its explorations.

But when they reached the fork, it was decided to press on to the top of the crevice and have lunch at the camp before investigating the right-hand shaft. They stood on the mountaintop and breathed the clear, cool air. Then "Bob" dropped the slab into place over the narrow opening of the cleft, and they started back to camp for a hasty lunch.

It was noon when the Bendover boys and the engineers again headed toward the ridge. But just as they entered the trail that led up the steep side of Red Skull Mountain, they heard a roar above them. A huge mass of rock, gravel and boulders was hurtling down the trail. It sounded like the roar of a great waterfall.

"Oh, man!" said Hal, "This is becoming redundant!"

"Rockslide!" "Bob" yelled. "Take cover!"

For a horrified instant, they stood transfixed. Then, slipping and falling on the sliding gravel and loose, rolling stones near the foot of the slope, they scrambled for safety. The sound of falling boulders, tree trunks and sliding gravel swelled into a roaring crescendo as the rockslide swiftly gathered momentum. Giant, jagged rocks bounded past the boys and splashed into the water of the reservoir. The entire slope appeared to be a roaring, ripping, writhing, tangled mass of boulders, mangled trees and sliding earth!

"Get behind this ledge--quick!" shouted "Bob" above the roar of the rockslide. He pointed to a solid ledge with a slight overhang about twenty feet from the reservoir. The two boys and the engineer cowered behind the protecting ledge.

Dick Hammer was also protected, despite the best efforts of the boys and "Bob" to push him into the flow of the detritus.

From where they lay it looked as though the whole side of the mountain were moving. Then, as though it were a hand roughly pulling aside a curtain, the rockslide tore away the dark green patch of foliage just beyond where the terrified spectators were cowering.

Where the green patch had been, Hal, Will and the engineers saw a gaping hole at the side of the slope, almost at the water's edge. It was the mouth of the tunnel--the subterranean passage which the Karnack River, centuries before, had worn through the mountain to escape to the sea!

CHAPTER XXIII

Captured!

The rockslide stopped as suddenly as it had started. The boys and the engineers waited until the last boulder had rumbled down the slope and splashed into the reservoir, and the dust began to settle over the rock-torn area. Then they emerged from their shelter and started for the tunnel. The tunnel's mouth, so unexpectedly revealed in the side of the slope, was a rectangular gap about forty feet high and thirty feet wide. It reminded Will of his mother.

The floor of the tunnel was somewhat lower on the left side, and this depression obviously served as a sluiceway to carry water from the river through the subterranean passage to Barmy Bay.

The Bendover boys, "Bob" and Dick stared at the secret tunnel with undisguised awe. Here before them was nature's own solution to a problem--a prehistoric outlet that a rushing river, dammed up by a glacial moraine, had drilled through a mountain that it might escape to the sea!

It almost looked as if it had been cut by skilled hard-rock miners. There were even naturally-occuring timbers supporting the walls and ceiling.

"Bob" looked at the others. Then, as if in complete accord, unspeaking, they stepped into the boulder-strewn passage. Proceeding cautiously for a short distance into the tunnel, they saw that the sluiceway deepened gradually into a ditch which leveled off six feet below the floor of the main passage. The tunnel itself sloped gradually downward, as a smooth floor. The side walls of the tunnel were composed of shale and clay and limestone.

In several places, the boys saw, the walls were pitted with freshly dug holes, and along the floor of the passage were small piles of gray clay.

Hal pointed. "What do you make of them?" he asked "Bob" in a low voice.

The engineer knelt beside a pile and examined the clay with interest. He reached over and scooped up a handful, which he then popped into his mouth, to the astonished looks of the boys. "Hmmm--rich, full bodied, with a slightly fruity flavor," he said, before swallowing the mud.

He then stood up and shook his head, before saying, "You know something, boys? Just because I'm an engineer--doesn't mean I know diddly about geology!" Then he added, "Maybe we'll find out what's going on farther down the tunnel."

Will caught "Bob's" eye and pointed to steel tracks in a damp section of the floor. Between the imprints were droppings of clay, and something else best described as just "droppings."

"Mine-car tracks!" the boy whispered. "We must be getting close to the place where the gang is operating!"

"The technical name for it is a 'tram', " said Dick, before being shoved, face-first, in a still-fresh pile of "droppings."

The sunlight, streaming through the open mouth of the passage, had enabled the four explorers to see for a distance of several feet. But directly ahead, the tunnel twisted sharply and was lost in darkness.

"Gosh," said Dick. "We must have left our flashlights back there at the ledge where we took shelter."

Even "Bob" helped out as the boys then slapped, punched, bit, and kicked Dick Hammer with martial-artist accuracy.

"I'll go back to the camp and get a couple," Hal offered later, when they had finished venting their rage.

Will, venturing as far as the turn, came back and intercepted his brother. "We don't need flashlights," he said quietly.

"Klenger's men have spaced lanterns all along the passage!

In the flickering light of the lanterns, they saw that the water in the sluiceway, which had been a few feet deep at the mouth of the tunnel, was now almost level with the top of the ditch. And beyond a second bend in the passage, they came to a crude but effective wooden lock. It was modeled after a canal lock, with two doorlike wings made of planks which met in the center.

When the wings were closed, as they were now, the water was impounded. Behind the lock, the ditch or canal was dry.

"There's the gadget that operates it," "Bob" whispered. He indicated an iron wheel at the side of the tunnel, resembling the brake wheel of a railway freight car. By turning the wheel, "Bob" explained, the sluice gates could be opened and shut. The boys studied the lock.

It was clear now why the level of the water in the reservoir rose during the day and sank at night. They continued along the passage, the sound of their footsteps deadened by the shale and clay of the tunnel floor. They were certain that the cavern in which the gang centered their activities must be fairly deep inside the mountain, otherwise the men surely would have heard the rockslide on the surface.

Suddenly, as they were about to turn another bend in the tunnel, they heard footsteps approaching. They scrambled back hastily and looked for a place in which to hide. There was only one--the sluiceway.

"Into the ditch," "Bob" ordered in a barely audible tone. "And when you hear him round the bend--duck!"

Of course, Will looked for a small water bird, before catching on and jumping in. They slipped noiselessly into the empty sluiceway and clung to the edge of the ditch.

A moment later, they heard the footsteps rounding the bend. All four held their breaths as the man passed along the tunnel just above their heads. They saw the man's face in the light of a lantern as he briefly inspected the lock. It was S. "Bob" Hawkins. Satisfied, he started back down the passage, cheerfully singing an old sea shanty:

Now Monday night my hand was on her ankle;
On Tuesday night my hand was on her knees;
Wednesday night--success! I lifted up her dress;
Thursday night I lifted up her silk chemise.
Friday night I got my hand upon it;
Saturday night I gave it just a tweak;
Sunday after supper, I finally got it up 'er,
And now I'm paying seven bob a week.

They lifted themselves out of the sluiceway the moment the old seaman had disappeared around the bend.

They moved forward again, their eyes searching eagerly for the cavern they knew must be ahead.

Soon they came to a giant cave in the wall of the tunnel, and Will poked his head in for a look around. He withdrew it with a start. On the floor of the cave was a stack of human skulls!

Then the group was startled by seeing a large number of the strange, grey creatures seemingly slaving away, digging mud and putting it in mine-cars. But even more shocking were the supervisors to all of this activity.

Hal was surprised to see Connie Slaw and Lola Moron, but both he and Will were floored by seeing Mrs. Bendover and Aunt Gertrude, plus several other women they did not know, wearing knee-high, spike-heeled black leather boots, harnesses, and little else. They were all carrying bullwhips, and when one of the creatures would show signs of fatigue, or would slow down, they would beat it unmercifully while screaming invectives.

They immediately reached the conclusion that this conspiracy had reached the highest levels of power!

Truly, their arrest and execution would result in the boys' promotion in the party, and accolades and power for their father!

After a brief conference, they decided to wait until they had ascertained where the rest of the gang were hidden, so they continued on with their trek.

Finally they arrived at their destination. A cleft in the rock wall of the main passage sloped upward from the floor for several feet, then expanded into another deep cavern. The fissure narrowed again on the opposite side of the cavern, and rose gradually toward the top of the mountain. Hal pointed to it as they stared into the giant cave.

"Must be the shaft which joins the other shaft at the fork," he whispered.

"Bob" nodded. "Flatten out," he ordered. They lay flat on the sloping floor of the crevice, their heads just below the level of the cavern. Then, lifting their heads cautiously, they studied the occupants of the cave.

In one corner of the underground room Sailor Hawkins was working expertly on a bio-humanoid electroproctolyzer. The radiation penetrated into his human subject with swift, efficient bursts, and the boys observed that the seaman was cutting a coin-sized hole in the man's forehead.

Assisting him was Richard "Bob" Kimball, Sr.!

Then Will also recognized the man on the table as T. "Bob" Taylor, the City Editor of the Fnordside News.

"So! The conspiracy has reached into Fnordside" said Will.

The boys looked at one another and grinned. They suspected that the old sailor had been pulling their leg when he told them the sad tale of his ship cracking up on a reef.

"Bet he was the ship's bio-humanoid electroprotolyzer's mate, instead of a ship's captain!" Will breathed.

As they watched from their place of concealment, they saw the man-thing. The huge, furry figure of the beast came staggering down the shaft from the mountaintop, his arms laden with split cordwood. He dropped the wood on the floor of the cavern, then walked over to the corner of the room to the left of the shaftway.

Hal tugged at "Bob's" sleeve, and the engineer passed the signal along to the others. A few feet to the left of the opening in the cavern wall a frail, slightly stooped, professorial-looking man with white hair and a pipe was standing before a kiln, examining some strange liquid he had decanted from an assay container in the kiln.

Beside the kiln stood a wheelbarrow, heaped with what looked like mud. The mountain monster approached the man at the kiln in a very deferential manner.

"That must be Dr. Flosser!" Will said in an excited whisper.

Hal nodded. "What's he doing?" he asked.

Will shook his head, and "Bob" whispered back: "I don't know. But it must be pretty important, or Klenger wouldn't be so anxious to keep the water from rising over the clay deposits in the valley."

"Think Flosser is a member of the gang?" Will queried.

"I doubt it," Hal replied, keeping his voice down. "He doesn't look like the sort of man who would get involved in anything crooked--unless he was forced. He looks more like the salesman or interior-decorator type."

Their eyes again turned to the kiln. The fire door below had been opened, and the man of the mountain was stoking it with wood. A cloud of smoke poured from the galvanized-iron stack which led from the kiln and into the shaftway beyond. Here was the explanation for the columns of smoke they had so frequently seen. The smoke from the green wood was funneled up the shaft from the kiln.

A column of smoke issued forth from the crevice at the top of the mountain only when the kiln was being stoked with green wood in the cavern far below. As they watched, two men entered the cavern from a small bay a few feet at the right of the shaft. One was a stocky, surly-looking man with red hair. The other was a taller man dressed in a clayspotted business suit.

Hal started. "The first man is Klenger!" he whispered to the others excitedly. "The taller fellow is the stranger."

"Guess that accounts for everybody!" Will whispered.

The two men joined Dr. Flosser and stared at the kiln. "What about it, Flosser?" the stranger said impatiently. "Is it elixer(tm) or not?" Dr. Flosser turned to the man.

"I've told you again and again, Mr. Dobbs," he began, "I need more time to make the last batch. And fending off the N.H.C.s is dangerous. It could start a chain reaction!"

"Time!" Dobbs barked. "If I hear that word again, I'll go batty!" He stubbed his finger into the scientist's chest. "I want results, do you hear? Leave the time manipulation to me!"

"Take it easy, J.R.," Klenger intervened, putting his hand on the taller man's arm. "The old man's doing the best he can, with Stang always demanding progress reports and such!"

Elixer(tm)! Stang!

Now the parts to the puzzle were falling into place!

Elixer (whatever that was) was the precious substance the gang hoped to extract from the clay!

And Stang was the signer of the telegram Klenger had received--apparently the leader of the gang!

He was the man who had arrived at the rendezvous off Merryman Island the night Hal had tried to overhear the conference from the tender of Tweeker's speedboat.

"We'd better go back and notify the criminal police," "Bob" whispered. He turned to Hal and Will. "Maybe your dad's back from Capitol City and can take charge and claim credit for his Political Deviancy Bureau."

The two youths and the engineers rose noiselessly from their hiding place and started down toward the subterranean passage. Before they had taken ten steps, they were confronted by a man carrying a deadly looking electro-gun.

It was the stranger Hal and Will had seen helping Hawkins carry the groceries! Why hadn't they recognized him before?

"Dad!" cried the boys. "You're in on it too?"

"Get going!" he ordered, motioning with the gun toward the cavern room beyond, his pipe-smoking grin looking particularly malevolent.

CHAPTER XXIV

Dr. Flosser Explains

Klenger and J.R. "Bob" Dobbs stared as the Bendover boys and the engineers were herded into the room.

"Where'd you find them?" Dobbs demanded of Yul Bendover, who held the gun on the boys and engineers. He jerked his head. "Just outside--in the runway," he replied. Klenger's face hardened.

"How'd you confounded snoops locate the tunnel?" he asked the boys harshly.

"Rockslide," Hal told him. The man's eyes narrowed with disbelief. "Don't hand me that malarky," he said sharply.

"It's true," Will put in. "It tore away the curtain of foliage at the mouth of the tunnel. If this cavern weren't so deep underground, you'd have heard it."

J.R. "Bob" Dobbs turned to the boys' father. "Give me that electro-gun," he directed. He threw it off to one side, brandishing instead a strangely dangerous-looking, seven-spinning-wheeled-device at the prisoners.

They did not know what the thing was, but decided to play it safe.

"Now, take a look and see if these kids are telling the truth" said Dobbs.

Yul Bendover nodded and hurried out of the cave.

"You're wasting time," Klenger told Dobbs. "It's true or they wouldn't be here. They'd never have located the passage any other way."

Dobbs's grin twisted bitterly. "Chief! Limpy! Tweeker!" he yelled.

Chief Cowlick and the men who had been his "prisoners" entered the room, to the boys' dismay.

"This is the finish," he told the stocky, redheaded plumber. "Now anybody can walk in here and see what we're doing! They might even take pictures without paying for them! Just the thought of all those lost sales--!"

Klenger smiled soothingly. "No use to get upset, J.R.," he said. "There's nobody around this part of the mountain except them."

He jerked his thumb at the prisoners. "We'll camouflage the hole with loose rock before anybody else has a chance to see it!"

The taller man appeared to be somewhat mollified. "Hawkins!" he called.

He gave the ex-sailor the gun and nodded toward the prisoners. "Take them into the bay and tie them up. They look hungry, though--so offer them some pudding or applesauce first."

The group politely declined. "Some Kool-Aid(tm) then?" he said.

The two youths, "Bob" Carpenter and Dick Hammer were marched into the small room which adjoined the cavern. It was this room from which Klenger and Dobbs had emerged a short time before. The prisoners were ordered to lie on their stomachs on the damp floor of the darkened room, then their hands and feet were securely tied by "Bob" Carpenter, under the direction of S. "Bob" Hawkins.

Afterwhich, both Hawkins and Carpenter walked out, the engineer leaning over the boys and Dick Hammer and winking his eye.

"Be seeing you" said Carpenter.

"So!" said Hal, " "Bob" Carpenter was in on the conspiracy the whole time! Damn!"

"And Chief Cowlick, too!" said Will.

"And don't forget your parents!" said Dick Hammer.

Exhausting though it was, the tied-up boys still managed to kick Dick Hammer until he curled up into a foetal position.

Minutes dragged into hours. The boys had discussed every possibility of escape soon after they were imprisoned in the cell, but now had subsided into worried silence, each occupied with his own thoughts. What Klenger would do with them, they did not dare guess. But one thing was certain: he would not allow them to go free and expose his plans.

After what seemed an eternity, they heard footsteps approaching the room in which they were imprisoned. A moment later S. "Bob" Hawkins appeared, marching Dr. Flosser before him at gun point! Directing the scientist to lie on the floor, he quickly proceeded to tie his hands and feet.

Hal rolled on his side and looked at the white-haired man as Hawkins clumped out of the room. "What happened?" he asked.

"I ascertained that there is no more elixer(tm) contained in the clay," the scientist replied with dry humor. "So they have no further use for me. Other than that, I find that being tied up is a very inspirational, even sensual, thing."

The boys looked at him in disgust. He twisted on his side so he could see his fellow prisoners.

"No doubt you're all wondering why I'm mixed up with these reckless men," he went on. "It appears we shan't be too occupied during the next half hour, so perhaps what I say will help to pass the time."

Several years ago, he told them, before Karnack Dam had even been blueprinted, he had prospected for elixer(tm) on Red Skull Mountain. He had read the geological theory of the subterranean passage but believed it to be fiction until, poking along the hillside--then densely forested--he had come upon the mouth of the tunnel about twenty or twenty-five feet up from the river bed.

"I explored the tunnel with great excitement," the scientist said, "and discovered deposits of clay which seemed to contain the mineral I was searching for." He coughed, chilled by the damp floor, then continued.

"Deep inside the mountain, I found the cavern, and a cleft running clear to the top of the ridge! I--gentlemen, I felt as if I had stumbled upon one of the geological miracles of prehistoric times!" His voice shook with remembrance of the experience, though his trembling seemed to be far more like sexual enjoyment with his current state of bondage.

"How do Klenger and Dobbs fit into this?" Will asked.

Klenger, Dr. Flosser explained, had been recommended to him as a man who could raise money to work the clay deposits in the tunnel. The scientist had told Klenger he was not positive the clay contained elixer(tm) but wanted an opportunity to test the substance and find out.

Klenger had been tremendously interested in the project, and persuaded Dr. Flosser to show him the tunnel. But the plumber failed to raise the money, and plans for developing the vein of elixer(tm) had to be abandoned.

"Then, about five weeks ago," the scientist went on, "I received a telegram from Klenger. He told me a group of men headed by J.R. "Bob" Dobbs had agreed to put up the money for the project. He insisted that I come to Smallville at once."

Dr. Flosser's voice became serious. "I took a leave of absence from my work and joined Klenger. We came here and began to break down the clay. Then I discovered I was no longer a partner in the project--but a prisoner! It was some sort of cost-cutting measure, I guess. All that Klenger and the others wanted from me was to make the tests to confirm the presence of the elixer(tm), refine it down for them, and some other minor job involving what they refer to as 'ghosts'.

They also let me decorate the place with some original sketches and pictures. You know how dreary things are in a cave. But they never appreciated all of my talent and hard work, and they even said that my artwork was derivative! And all because I hadn't sent in my membership fee!"

"And to keep the valley clear to mine the stuff once it was discovered to be elixer(tm)," Dick said, "Klenger had to keep the reservoir from filling up."

The scientist nodded, then gave Dick Hammer an unexpected forehead to the face, before laughing gleefully at his prank.

"He persuaded Hawkins to build the wooden lock," he explained. "The old sailor was highly incensed at the prospect of losing his "ship" because of the "dirt" project, and Klenger found him a willing ally in his scheme to divert the water to the sea. The rest of the time, he just does electro proctolyzations on the new recruits."

"Where does Potato Connie fit in the picture?" asked Hal. Dr. Flosser said that Potato Connie had helped the gang for the same reason, supplying them with fresh vegetables from her garden, in exchange for 'Frop pills and group sex.

"What about that shaggy creature?" Hal asked. "Yes," Will said grimly. "We've plenty of things to settle with him!"

Dr. Flosser coughed gently. "I can well imagine how you feel about "Bobo" Marley," he said, "but I hope you won't hold him responsible for all of his actions. He's devoted to me-and terrified of the others. Klenger threatened to shave him if he did not obey orders. Otherwise, I'm sure he would have helped me to escape."

"What is the man-thing?" Dick wanted to know.

"Bobo" Marley was, in truth, a Yeti, the scientist told them. This meant nothing to the boys or Hammer.

"I met "Bobo" on my first trip to Red Skull Mountain," Dr. Flosser declared. The scientist smiled at his recollection of the shaggy- haired beast fleeing down the mountainside. "Later, I won the it's confidence," he went on, "with dirty pictures and cheeseburgers. And from then on, "Bobo" couldn't do enough for me.

"When I returned this summer, he was still here--and he remembered me. He lived in the tunnel, drawing all sorts of bizarre art on the walls and from what I can gather he had been subsisting pretty much on raw vegetables from Connie's garden, for a price, and you probably know what I mean, and with the occasional handout from one of the other squatters."

"He used to steal also from the contractors' stores when they were working on the dam." Dr. Flosser's eyes twinkled.

"It was "Bobo's" idea to frighten you with skulls. Klenger told "Bobo" anything he did to scare you away from the mountain would be of great help to me!"

" "Bobo" must think an awful lot of you, sir," Will said ruefully. He certainly did his best to get rid of us!"

Dick interrupted. "Boulders, an explosion, a fire--"

"I'm afraid the sweet thing was overzealous in his efforts to keep you people away from this region," the scientist said.

"It was Tweeker who supplied "Bobo" with the dynamite. And it was Klenger who set fire to your shack.

"Bobo" wouldn't commit murder any more than I would, unless it seemed like a good idea at the time. Usually, it's just tacky."

He stopped speaking, for at that moment Klenger came into the bay and set a lantern on the floor in front of him. He looked around at them with a thin smile, savoring the suspense his entrance had caused, then his mouth hardened.

"Flosser's probably told you our job is finished," he said harshly, untying the Doctor's ropes. "The old fairy never did know how to keep his mouth shut!"

Dr. C. "Bob" Flosser waved a limp wrist at Klenger, then exited the cave blowing a kiss to the three captives. "Oh, boy," said Will, "we're surrounded by wackos!"

"We're pulling out. Our space jumper is full and ready for takeoff" said Klenger, "so adios, motherfuckers!"

Hal and Will looked hopefully at one another, but their hopes were soon dashed. "Before we go," Klenger was saying, "I'm going to fix it so you won't be able to tell your story to the authorities." He stopped to make sure that all the prisoners were paying attention to what he was saying. This is sort of an obligatory thing with villains.

"One way to do it," he said, "would be to feed you a lot of that bogus 'Frop we feed to the 'grays'. It's a slow-acting poison--you know."

They didn't.

"But that would take too long. Perhaps we could stick you each in a clone-o'-matic(tm), and watch you mutate to death. But with my luck, you'd just sprout more of you to pester me."

"Maybe we could turn up the power on the electroproctolyzer and drill holes all the way through your pin heads."

"But that would be really stinky."

"Hey, man!" cried Will, "you could shoot us execution style!"

The others looked at Will hostilely. "Another way to do it," he continued, "would be to dump you in the sluiceway and open up the gates. Maybe your bodies would reach Barmy Bay--and maybe they wouldn't."

He stared at them thoughtfully.

"Trouble is," he said finally, "I can't afford to take chances. So I'm goin' to have Hawkins dynamite the mouth of the tunnel and close it up. And you will get to sit here, underneath the exhaust manifold of the space jumper when we take off!"

He picked up the lantern and turned away with a sardonic grin, his pipe jutting out of his mouth in a rude fashion.

"After the tunnel's shut off," he said, "there won't be any more trouble getting the water to rise in the reservoir. Some Smallville folks--but not all--will be getting plenty of water from now on!"

CHAPTER XXV

Smoked Out

J.R. "Bob" Klenger's words echoed hollowly in the space where the trussed-up prisoners lay. They stared at one another, but nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said. Their faces, pale and tense, spoke eloquently for them. Their faces said, "Oh shit!"

They heard Klenger in the cavern instructing S. "Bob" Hawkins in the use of the dynamite.

"First you put this thingy inside of that doohicky. Then wrap this stuff around the goop, and leave a piece that you tie with the doohicky. And be sure to use lots of this stuff, so it doesn't blow up in your face, and then put the fuse on the stuff, then pull the fuse. Remember, do it to each drum of explosives before you pull the first fuse."

"Huh?" said Hawkins. "Just do it the same way you did before" said Klenger.

Then Hal remembered the crevice. "We've still got a chance!" he whispered to the others. "If we can only break out of these ropes, we can climb the shaft and escape through the top of the mountains!"

But almost as if he had heard the boy's words, Klenger cut off their last means of escape. "Before you've blasted the mouth of the tunnel," the red- haired man told Hawkins, "set off another charge to plug the shaft that leads to the ridge. That'll shut off the crevice and seal everything nice and tight. Oh, and thanks for reminding me, kid!" he said, in Hal's direction.

"Oops. Sound really travels in a cave!" said Hal.

"Aye, cap'n," Hawkins replied to the previous instruction. "But how are we to get away?"

"We'll fly right out of the tunnel, you fool. Dobbs an' me and the rest will load up in the ship while you blow the shaft. You'll join us after you've set the charge on the tunnel. After we leave--Boom! Now get going."

The prisoners heard the sailor's footsteps recede, then there was silence. They struggled desperately with the ropes that bound them. Unless they could break free in the few minutes remaining before Hawkins set off his charges, they would be buried--or burned alive by the exhaust from the hidden space jumper!

They rolled close to one another, their fingers tearing at each other's ropes--but the strands were wet from the damp floor and resisted the prisoners' frantic attempts to untie them.

"There must be some way out of this!" Will said desperately. He lifted his wrists to a jagged edge of rock, and awkwardly tried to saw through the binding hemp, but gave up, exhausted.

At that moment the beast, Marley, staggered into the cavern from the shaftway, his arms piled with firewood. He stared into the prisoners' room, then dropped his load of wood and came quickly to where Dick was lying on the ground. "

"BOBO!" " the engineer exclaimed. " "Bobo" want candy bar? Big candy bar? I've got candy bar for "Bobo", if "Bobo" untie me. C'mon "Bobo!" Good "Bobo!" CANDY BAR FOR "BOBO!" "

He waggled his hands behind his back. "Hurry, "Bobo!" " he implored the creature. "Untie them!"

The shaggy-haired man-thing cast a furtive glance over his shoulder, then bent over the engineer without speaking, his fingers fumbling with the rope. Hal and Will and the engineer looked on, hardly daring to breathe. It seemed too good to be true that help at last was at hand.

Hal's mouth suddenly framed a warning--but too late. Klenger came striding swiftly into the cave and struck the beast on the head with a slab of firewood. The man-thing slid unconscious to the floor!

"Bad "Bobo!" " said Klenger, "no 'Froppie-goodie for you on the ship tonight!"

Klenger glanced at the rope which secured the engineer's wrists, then gave a satisfied grunt and went out. A moment later, the prisoners saw Klenger and J.R. "Bob" Dobbs start up the tunnel toward the entrance at the reservoir.

"There they go," Will said tensely. "Pretty soon Hawkins will follow them, and then--crispy critters or--" He broke off, but the others knew what he meant. Then their efforts would be useless.

Dick rolled his body toward the beast, then sat up and, by twisting his bound wrists, managed to unscrew the cap of the canteen on his hip. He tilted the flask so that water splashed on "Bobo" Marley's face. The Yeti stirred, and his eyelids fluttered weakly. Dick splashed his face again, then dribbled water into his wide- open mouth. The critter looked at him dazedly.

"You've done it!" Hal exclaimed excitedly. "Make "Bobo" untie these ropes!"

Within a few minutes the creature had freed Dick's hands and feet. Then the Dick set to freeing Hal and Will's hands. Soon, all the prisoners stood free.

"I say, gov'nor," said "Bobo", "Where's me candy bar, then?"

They looked at the creature in stunned amazement.

Then Dick said, "Uh, I don't have one. I just said that to get you to untie my ropes."

"What's this then!?" said the suddenly angry creature, "At's a rotten sodden trick ta pull on a Yeti!" he said, "You ruddy tourist!"

"Bobo" then set upon Dick Hammer with the unbridled violence of an irate Cockney Mountain Gorilla, or, more properly, an irate Cockney Mountain Yeti. This amused the boys for several seconds before they remembered they had other things to do.

Then, without warning, suddenly the Yeti disengaged from the pummeling, and took off at full tilt, running down the tunnel while laughing, snorting, and grunting "Ook-greet! Ook! Ook!"

"Come on, Hal!" Will cried. "We've got to stop S. "Bob" Hawkins before he seals the shaft opening!"

"Suits me!" Hal replied.

They raced through the cavern and into the lantern-lighted tunnel. But the sound of an explosion told them that they were already too late.

"We'll follow Klenger and Dobbs!" Will yelled after them. He ran to the shaft which sloped toward the mountaintop. "Come on, Hal!"

"Will--wait!" Will stopped, puzzled. "We won't gain anything by trying to overtake those men," Hal told the youth rapidly.

"Klenger's got an electro-gun!"

"But we can't let them get away!" Will pleaded.

"They won't!" Hal promised.

He signaled to the staggering Dick to follow him and went quickly to the kiln. Pointing toward the pile of green firewood, he directed: "Keep feeding the fire until you get up plenty of smoke, then fill the chamber with it. We want to make Klenger and Dobbs think that their ship is on fire! The engineer nodded his understanding, and Will's face broke into a grin.

The two youths slipped on their gas masks which were still slung over their shoulders. Will grabbed a lantern. Then they started up the tunnel after the two men. Smoke streamed through the tunnel, and with the light of the lantern the boys saw a huge pile of recently-killed grey things. Someone had blithely machine-gunned them down.

They had just passed a large cave in the side of the tunnel when, all of a sudden, an ear-splitting sound and pressure filled the cavern.

"Criminy!" said Hal, "They're taking off!"

Grabbing Will by the arm, the retreated into the cave just before a huge wall of flame flew past it's entrance.

They stayed hidden, any minute expecting the tremendous blast from the drums of explosive at the edge of the tunnel.

BOOM!

Then, darkness, as the tunnel was closed forever by the dynamite!

Hours later, after the boys had wended their way back into the depths of the cave, they found Dick Hammer--now with the clothes scorched off of his body, and most of his hair burned off likewise. But Dick Hammer had something important to say.

"When S. "Bob" Hawkins blew up the shaft, the dynamite didn't do the trick--we can still get out that way!"

The boys were so exhausted and disgusted that they didn't even attack him.

The group began it's long ascent up the shaft. All the way the boys pondered the retribution that would be exacted on them by the authorities for allowing such dangerous criminals to escape retribution. They finally reached the exit, just before a cave-in plugged the shaft behind them. Then they pulled themselves out to breath the fresh air.

"Look who's coming!" cried Hal.

Climbing up the Mountainside came Chud Moron.

"Hi, guys, anything going on?" he said, before getting punched in the gut by Will.

Gasping, Chud then asked, "Didn't you guys meet up with your father? He asked me to stay up here while he went down there to help you out! I didn't do nothin'!"

Hal, thinking quickly, proceeded to lie through his teeth.

"You see, Chud, we not only managed to annihilate the entire gang, including several prominent residents of Smallville (he neglected to mention Chud's sister, Lola, figuring he could use it for blackmail, later), but we also blew up their entire facility. A facility that was a secret enemy base, set to wipe out our entire Smallville military-industrial infrastructure!"

"And, in doing so, we also sank a dozen of the enemies' finest submarines!" concluded Hal.

"Wow!" said Chud, believing every word.

Catching on to the scam, it was now Will's turn.

"Not only that," said Will, "But in the heroic firefight and hand-to-hand combat, our father, Yul Bendover, his wife--our mother, and our Aunt Gertrude were all killed, while valiently trying to save the dam from being dynamited by their evil leader.

"Hey!" Chud demanded. "Don't I get any attention? I helped too, didn't I?"

"Marginally" said Hal. "But most importantly, we managed, through ingenious inductive reasoning and intestinal fortitude, to determine who the evil leader of the conspiracy was!"

"This vicious brute, this evil genius whose clever machinations allowed him to cleverly deceive all of us!

"A man whose very existence bespeaks corruption, anti-revolutionary tendencies, decadent rock-and-roll, and the overthrow of our American way of life!

"DICK HAMMER! THIS UNMENTIONABLE FIEND! THIS MONSTER WHOSE VERY LIFE THREATENS THE SECURITY OF THE PEOPLE!" screamed Hal, "HE IS THE LEADER OF THE CONSPIRACY!"

"Wow!" said Chud.

Dick started, then tried to run away.

Without warning, Will pulled the knife from Chud's holster, leaped upon Dick Hammer, pried open his mouth and carved two deep gashes on his tongue!

For his part, Hal then jumped on and crushed both of the fallen engineers' hands far beyond repair. They thus systematically denied him the ability to easily respond to the charges leveled against him, when he would face the perfunctory paramilitary star chamber tribunal.

Afterwards, Will sighed.

"Well, I guess this winds up another mystery," he said.

"Don't take it so hard," Hal comforted him with a grin. "Another one will turn up soon!"

And although he did not realize it at the time, Hal was speaking the truth. For the Bendover boys were closer to the mystery of the "Day the Xists Landed" than they knew.

Then, standing on the crest of Red Skull Mountain, the boys, and their friend stared down at Karnack Valley. The scar which the rockslide had left on the mountainside stood out raw against the green of the foliage. Soon it, too, would be covered with trees and bushes once more.

And the mouth of the prehistoric tunnel had been walled up forever. So now the thin sheet of water which covered the valley would rise and become a deep lake.

Suddenly, and completely unexpectedly, the drums full of dynamite that S. "Bob" Hawkins had secretly planted days earlier exploded within the huge concrete edifice of the dam, collapsing it in the center, and sending what water there was in the reservoir crashing down on the people and industries of Smallville.

After the chaos had ended, each of the boys alternatively punched and kicked Dick Hammer all the way back to the autogyro.

"So, what're you guys having for dinner?" said Chud, later.

"Duck" said Will.

"Really?" said Chud, not seeing the punch coming.

*****************************************

NOTES ON THE PRODUCTION OF THE SERIAL:

THE SECRET ADVENTURE OF THE RED SKULL MOUNTAIN MYSTERY-- THE BENDOVER BROTHERS MEET J.R. "BOB" DOBBS

1) I wrote each chapter without reference to the previous chapters, one chapter each three days maximum self-allotted deadline time. This explains any continuity errors you knitpickers out there find: so bugger off, already.

2) My life has become a sordid hell of personal torment while I was doing this. Were it not for caffeine and nicotine to stimulate my obsessive/compulsive personality it would have been less enjoyable.

3) Hair does grow thicker and darker when not exposed to sunlight.

4) Please pardon non-responsiveness to email. I was advised by the Emperor Gaius Julius Caesar Germanicus, my spirit guide (whose assistance proved to be invaluable in the writing and editing of 'Serial'), that to do so would make my headaches worse.

5) Any similarity to current or former agents of the United States Political Deviancy Bureau (U.S.P.D.B.), or the Internal Security Police are purely coincidental. They have formally requested that I refrain from references to their agencies in the future. Or else.

6) Several small, harmless animals were grievously injured in the production of this series.

Dr. Hieronymous Zinn

Original file name: bendover bros meet B.txt - converted on Friday, 13 June 2003, 22:43

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