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

He and his chums tried – over and over again they picked out certain words, setting them down on separate sheets of paper, but all they got were meaningless, jumbled sentences.

“Perhaps it’s certain letters in certain words,” suggested Ned.

“Maybe,” agreed Bob. “We’ll try that way.”

But that was of little use, either, and finally, in despair, the young detective turned to Hiram, who had done little toward helping solve the riddle, and asked:

“Did Mr. Denby ever say anything to you about how you were to proceed to search for the treasure?”

“Well,” remarked Hiram slowly, “he said he’d leave me something in his will, and he left me that,” and he motioned to the box.

“Yes, I know!” exclaimed Bob, impatiently. “But did he ever tell you how to use what he left you? He knew he was going to leave the directions to you in a cipher. Now did he give you the key to it?”

“You mean this brass key?” and Hiram held up the big one that locked his strong room.

“No, I mean some sort of directions for solving this puzzle.”

The old sailor arose and went to the strong chest in the corner of the strong room. He brought back an envelope.

“He gave me this letter, some years ago,” he said. “It just tells me that he’s going to leave me the gold as my share, being the only survivor that kept the agreement Here’s the letter.”

Bob eagerly read it. As Hiram had said, it contained just that information, and nothing more. But at the end of the letter were these words:

“Don’t destroy the envelope.”

“Now what did he mean by that?” asked Bob, puzzled. “Is there anything else in the envelope? Let’s look, Harry.”

He took from his chum the envelope that had contained the letter. Looking inside Bob gave a cry of surprise and exultation.

“I’ve found it! I’ve got it!” he cried “What?” asked his chums.

“The key to the cipher! Look!”

With his knife Bob slit the envelope down each end. It was of thick, manila paper, and on the inside of what was the front there were marked off in black ink a number of small oblong spaces, placed here and there irregularly.

“I don’t see how that’s going to help any,” observed Ned.

“You don’t? Just wait a minute!” cried Bob.

With his knife he cut away from the envelope the loose flap and the back, leaving an oblong piece of opaque, manila paper, marked off in those queer blank spaces. Then Bob began to cut out the spaces along the black border lines until he had a piece of paper containing fifteen oblong holes. The holes were at irregular places, and arranged in lines.

There was one space on the first line, two on the second, three on the third, five on the fourth and two each on the fifth and sixth lines.

“It’s getting more complicated than ever!” sighed Harry.

“On the contrary it’s getting clearer and clearer,” cried Bob. “Give me the cipher,” and he reached for it. “How many lines in it, Ned?”

“Just six,” was the answer.

“Exactly the number of lines represented by these cut-out spaces. Now look!”

Bob placed the piece of envelope over the parchment containing the seemingly meaningless message. Only the words now showed that could be read through the cut-out openings. All the others were covered by the opaque manila. And these words stood out like a message in flame.

“Listen!” read Bob:

“Dig ten feet due east and ten south of Red gate post in buttercup lot.”

For a moment no one spoke. Then Ned cried:

“The buttercup lot! That must be Mr. Denby’s pasture near the bramble patch. Why, Rod was away off! He was in the wrong lot!”

“That’s right!” exclaimed Bob. “I think this gives us the secret of the treasure.”

They looked again at the message as revealed by the cut-out key. There was no doubt as to its meaning. Hank Denby had adopted a very simple form of cipher, yet one almost impossible to solve if one hasn’t the key-paper. He had put in several points of the compass, and a number of measurements in his queer message and one might have dug for a long time without hitting on the right spot. But now it was easy.

“So that’s why he didn’t want me to destroy the envelope!” murmured Hiram, as he saw to what use it could be put. “Well, I’m glad I saved it all these years. Oh, he was a cute one, Hank was!”

“Do you think he planned it all this way?” asked Ned.

“He must have,” asserted Bob.

“It was leaving a good deal to chance,” was Harry’s opinion. “Just supposing Hiram hadn’t saved that envelope?”

“In that case we’d be out of luck,” Bob said. “But I think Mr. Denby must have known Hiram would save the key to the cipher. If he hadn’t thought that he’d have made up some other way of letting it be known where the treasure was buried.”

“Maybe it’s all a joke,” murmured Ned. “I mean, maybe there isn’t any treasure buried after all. How’ll we know?”

“Well, let’s get busy!” suggested Bob. “Let’s see if the story of the cipher is borne out. Let’s dig for the treasure!”

“That’s the idea!” cried Hiram. “Wait, I’ll get some shovels. We’ll go to the buttercup lot. Hank always called it that, for it’s fair like a plate of butter in the summer time, with yellow flowers. But he never pastured any cows there. I wondered at him writing about cows.”

“You should worry now!” joked Ned. “You’ll be a rich man in a little while, if things turn out right.”

Then they set out to dig up the treasure.

CHAPTER XXV

THE KEY TRICK

Hank Denby had been a thrifty man after settling down in Cliffside following his life on the sea. Few there were who knew him well – not even his own lawyer, Judge Weston. And perhaps even fewer knew of his early association with Hiram Beegle and that the two had formed a quartette which had dug for treasure on the mystic South Sea isle.

But such was the case, strange as it may seem. The four had found the old pirate’s treasure, they had made an agreement, doubtless influenced by the dominant mind of Hank Denby, and they had done just as he said.

“But you got to give him credit for being honest,” declared Hiram, on their way to the buttercup lot. “Hank did just as he said he would do.”

“I believe that,” stated Bob. “The thing of it was that Jolly Bill and Rod didn’t live up to their agreement, and, in consequence, they forfeited their rights to that share of the treasure which Hank was keeping for them. So much the more for you, Mr. Beegle.”

“Yes, I hope so. But I’m going to pay you boys for your trouble,” he insisted.