Bob Dexter and the Storm Mountain Mystery or, The Secret of the Log Cabin

“Now if Bill can’t make head or tail of it, how could Hiram be expected to?” That was bothering Bob now more than he liked to admit. But he was far from giving up the quest. He must watch Bill.

The one-legged sailor, unconscious that he was being observed in his “undress uniform,” was eagerly looking over the paper. He held it right-side up, and upside down. He turned it this way and that, and held it up to the light. But all to no purpose as indicated by his slowly shaking head.

“No, I can’t make head or tail of you, and that’s a fact,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll have to get help on this. But I don’t want to if I don’t have to. If I could only get Hiram to talk he might give me the lead I want. I’ll have another go at Hiram, I guess. He doesn’t suspect anything yet.”

Bill returned the paper to the little casket, closed the lid with a snap and then put the brass box back in the interior of his wooden leg. Having done this Bill proceeded to get dressed for the day.

And Bob Dexter prepared to make so quiet an exit from the Mansion House that the old sailor would not know he had been there. To this end Bob left before Bill was downstairs, slipping out the back way as arranged with Mr. Beel.

In first planning his work looking to the discovery of the thief who had taken Hiram’s box, Bob Dexter had in mind a very spectacular bit of play. It was based on some of the stories of celebrated detectives – real or imagined sleuths.

How Bob had come, by a process of elimination, to suspect that Jolly Bill was the thief, I think you can reason out for yourselves. If not I shall disclose it to you. Sufficient now to say that Bob did suspect Jolly Bill, and with good reason, though there was one big gap in the sequence of steps leading to the crime. And that was to learn how the key had been put back in the room where the unconscious Hiram lay. But of that more later.

As I say, Bob had in mind a daring bit of work as soon as he discovered for a fact that Bill had the box. This was nothing more or less than a false alarm of fire at the Mansion House. Bob reasoned that if the cry of fire were to be shouted Bill, and all the other guests, would at once rush to save that which they considered most valuable. And that if Bill kept the brass box locked somewhere in his room, he would rush to get it out, Bob fully believed.

However the discovery that the sailor kept the box in what, to him, was the best hiding place in the world, namely his wooden leg, made it unnecessary for Bob to go to the length he had planned.

Bill, himself, had given away the secret. The box was always with him. It was only necessary to take off his wooden leg and the secret of the treasure would be laid bare, so to speak.

“That is I’ll get the directions for finding the gold,” mused Bob. “But whether I can make any sense of the directions is another matter. However, well have a try.”

Bob’s first act, after emerging from the hotel by the back way, was to go home and get a good breakfast. He was just in time to eat with his uncle who was preparing to leave for his office.

“Well, Bob, you’re quite a stranger,” said Mr. Dexter, smiling.

“Yes,” admitted the lad. “But I’m going to be at home more, from now on.”

“I do hope so,” sighed his aunt. “I’m so worried about you, Bob! You aren’t going to get into danger, are you?”

“No, indeed, Aunt Hannah.”

“Well, I know one thing he’s going to get into next week,” said Uncle Joel dryly.

“What’s that?” asked Bob.

“School,” was the laconic reply. “School opens next week.”

“I shan’t be sorry,” replied Bob. “I’ll clean up this case and be glad to get back to my books. There’s a lot of fun at school.”

But there yet remained considerable work to be done on the Storm Mountain mystery and the solving of the secret of the log cabin. To this end the young detective visited Hiram Beegle in the lonely shack that morning. To the old sailor Bob told certain things, and certain things he didn’t tell him. But what he said was enough to cause Hiram to sit down and write Jolly Bill a letter, a letter worded as Bob suggested.

Whether it was this letter, or because he wanted to see his old messmate is not certain, but, at any rate, Jolly Bill Hickey called at the log cabin next day. And Bob Dexter was there.

So, also, were Bob’s chums, Ned and Harry. None of the lads, however, was in evidence, being in fact, concealed in the strong room – that same room which had been so mysteriously locked after the theft of the brass box.

Bob had given up, for the time being, any attempt to solve the mystery of the key. He found it better to concentrate on one thing at a time, and the principal matter was to get Hiram into possession of the treasure that was rightfully his.

“What do you want us to do, Bob?” asked Ned as, with Harry, he sat in the strong room, waiting the development of the plot.

“Well, well have to be guided pretty much by circumstances,” Bob answered. “Jolly Bill is coming here, and Hiram is going to talk to him. Bill doesn’t know we’re here. At least I hope he doesn’t. Perhaps you’d just better leave it to me. Follow me when I go out and back me up.”

“Sure well do that,” promised Harry.

So they waited and, in due time, Bill came stumping up the path. He had engaged a taxicab, or one of the decrepit autos in Cliffside which passed for such, and so rode up to the log cabin in style. At Bob’s suggestion, Hiram had offered to pay for the taxi, in order to insure Bill’s presence.

“Well, here I am, old timer! Here’s your old friend Jolly Bill Hickey! Here’s your old messmate!” greeted the one-legged man as he clapped Hiram heartily on the shoulder. “We must stick together, messmate. You’ve had hard luck and I’ve had hard luck. Now well stick together.”

“He’ll stick Hiram all right, if he gets the chance,” whispered Ned.

“Quiet,” urged Bob, who was listening at the keyhole of the strong room, the door of which was closed, but not locked.

After some general conversation, during which Bill emphasized his friendship for Hiram, the one-legged man asked:

“Haven’t you any idea, Hiram, where old Hank would be likely to bury that treasure of his? If you had you could go dig it up, you know, without waiting to find the box with the map in. If you had an idea, you know, I could help you dig. I only got one leg, that’s true, but I can dig. Look how I dug the fish worms.”

“Yes, you did dig worms, Bill,” admitted Hiram gently. “And I don’t see how you did it. It must have hurt your leg – I mean the stump where your wooden leg is fastened on. Why don’t you take off your wooden leg, Bill, and rest yourself. Come on, take off your wooden leg.”

“What’s that!” cried Bill, with more emphasis than the simple request seemed to call for. “Take off my leg? I guess not! I only take it off when I go to bed.”

“Well, take it off now, and go to bed,” urged Hiram. He was following a line of talk suggested by Bob, though the latter had not disclosed the reason therefor.

“What – take off my wooden leg and go to bed – in the morning?” cried Bill. “You must be crazy, Hiram! What’s gotten into you?”

“I want to see you take off that wooden leg, Bill,” was the mild reply. “I’d like to see that wooden leg off you.”

“Well, you aren’t going to see it off me!” snapped out Jolly Bill, who was anything but that now. “I’m not going to take off my wooden leg to please any one! There’s something wrong with you, Hiram. I can tell that.”

His voice was suspicious. Bob looked toward his silent chums. The time to act was approaching.

“You won’t take off your wooden leg, Bill?” asked Hiram.

“Not for anybody – not until I go to bed!” declared the other vigorously.

“Well, then, it’s time you went to bed!” cried Bob, as he swung open the door and walked out into the main room of the log cabin, closely followed by Ned and Harry.

“Wha – what – what’s the meaning of this?” cried Jolly Bill, when he could get his breath. “What – why, it’s my friend Bob!” he cried, with seeming pleasure as he arose and stumped forward with extended hands. “My old friend Bob. Shake with Jolly Bill!”

“We’ll shake your leg – that’s all we’ll shake!” cried Ned, taking his cue from what Bob had said.

“And you might as well go to bed now,” added Harry.

Jolly Bill was standing near a couch, and suddenly, with a gentle push, Harry sent him backward so that he fell, full length on this improvised bed.

So sudden was the push, gentle as it was, that it took away the breath of Jolly Bill. He gasped and spluttered on the couch, trying in vain to raise his head, for Ned was holding him down. And as a horse cannot rise if you hold his head down, so, neither, can a man, and Bill was in just this situation.

“Let me up, you young rascals! Let me up! I’ll have the law on you for this! I’ll call the police! What do you mean? Hiram, what’s the game? You asked me here to talk about the treasure – you said you might divide it, and now – stop! stop!” yelled Jolly Bill.

And well might he yell “stop!” for he felt many hands fumbling at his wooden leg. Hands were unbuckling the straps that held the wooden limbs to his stump. And Hiram’s hands were among these.