The Hunniwell Boys and the Platinum Mystery

CHAPTER I. A Strange Proposal

A STRANGE PROPOSAL

“Horned toads and little fishes, but will you look at that baby pull!”

Bill Hunniwell dropped his paddle and grabbed the landing net as he spoke. His brother, Gordon, however, was too busy handling the five ounce rod to make any reply. He had all he could do to keep a taut line on the big square tail as it broke water some sixty feet from the canoe.

But he had handled big fish before and, although he fought it nearly half an hour, he finally succeeded in getting it up within netting distance and in another minute the big fellow lay on the bottom of the canoe too worn out even to flop.

“I’ll bet he’ll go ten pounds,” Bill declared as he looked down at the fish.

“Guess he’s the biggest that has come out of Lost Pond in our time,” Gordon added as he too gazed with pride at his catch.

“We’ll take him home and have him mounted,” Bill declared as he picked up the paddle and turned the canoe toward the cabin.

“The phone’s ringing,” Gordon said when they were almost in. “Make it snappy or they’ll ring off.”

A few strong strokes put the light canoe alongside the wharf and Gordon leaped out and raced for the cabin only a few feet away. Bill pulled the canoe up onto the wharf and began taking the rod and fish out. But he had not finished when Gordon returned.

“It was mother calling,” he announced. “She says that Mr. Rogers is at the house and wants to see us.”

“Rogers? You mean——?”

“Sure, Rogers. R-O-G-E-R-S, our Rogers.”

“What’s he want?”

“She didn’t say, just said he wanted to see us.”

“Of course you said we’d be right down as soon as we could shut up the cabin.”

“Sure I did. We were going down this afternoon anyhow and it’ll save us the trouble of getting dinner. It’s only a few minutes after ten and we can make it by dinner time if we hurry.”

But it was some task to close up the two cabins as the windows were all fitted with heavy shutters and the bedding had to be packed away on account of mice and squirrels which, in spite of all they could do, were bound to get in. So it was nearly half past eleven before they were ready to start.

In a small space on the hillside just beyond the cabin rested an airplane with the name “Albatross” in large letters on both sides. One would have said that it would be impossible for a plane to take off in that small space and, for an ordinary plane it would have been correct. But this was no ordinary plane. It carried no heavy gasoline engine with its heavy load of fuel, but was driven by a light but powerful electric motor which received its power from a new type of storage battery. The latter was very small consisting only of a copper cylinder some eight inches long by an inch and a half or two inches in diameter. The cell was the invention of Bob and Jack Golden and a number of them had been loaned to the Hunniwell boys while the Goldens were abroad.

The extreme lightness of the plane had suggested to them the possibility of lifting it vertically by means of a horizontal propeller driven by a second motor and the idea had proved a complete success. Consequently they were able to land and take off in a space barely large enough to hold the plane.

“You got the fish?” Bill asked as he slipped a cell in place.

“I put it in the box under your seat,” Gordon told him.

“Sure everything’s all right?”

“Sure. I even put out the cat.”

“Well, we want to leave things right because something tells me that we’re going to be busy the rest of the summer and we may not get up here again till next spring.”

“But it’s only the third week in August.”

“I know that, but it’s only a month till college opens and Rogers is wanting to see us.”

“And he wouldn’t be unless he had something he wants us to do.”

“Exactly.”

Steve Rogers was a member of The United States Secret Service and the boys had the previous summer been of great service to him in convicting the leader of the largest dope selling ring in the history of the service. They knew how busy he was and thus Bill had decided that something of more than passing importance had brought him to Maine.

“Let’s go.”

Bill pushed over a switch and the horizontal propeller, which they had dubbed, “the elevator,” began to revolve. Faster and faster the blade whirled as Bill added notch after notch until, with a slight lurch, the plane lifted from the ground. Slowly it rose in the air and started in the direction of the pond as Bill set the forward propeller in motion.

“Better make it snappy so cook’ll have time to put on a couple extra plates,” Gordon told him as the plane skimmed the top of the mountain on the other side of the pond.

“Be there in twenty minutes,” Bill promised.

And he kept his word for the noon whistles were blowing just as the Albatross landed in front of the home hangar. Without waiting to push it inside the boys hurried around to the front of the house where they found their guest on the porch talking with Mr. Hunniwell.

“Talk about pleasant surprises,” Bill said as they shook hands.

“Hope I haven’t disturbed your vacation,” Rogers told him.

“Not a bit of it, we were coming out this afternoon anyhow,” Bill assured him.

“Caught a ten pounder, Dad,” Gordon said with a proud look at his father.

“Tell that to the marines,” Mr. Hunniwell laughed.

“Wait a minute and I’ll show you,” and Gordon darted off to be back in a minute holding the big trout out for their inspection.

“That’s no fish,” Rogers declared, “That’s a whale, and I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if it’s the very one that swallowed Jonah.”

“I didn’t know they grew that large in Lost,” Mr. Hunniwell added.

“Well, I reckon you’ll have to believe it now,” Bill told him.

“Unless you’re like the man who, the first time he saw a giraffe, declared ‘there ain’t no such animal,’” Rogers laughed.

“Well, seeing’s believing,” Mr. Hunniwell assured them. “But there’s the dinner bell and we’d better not keep them waiting.”

An hour later they were again sitting on the porch with the exception of Mr. Hunniwell who had returned to his office.

“Well,” Rogers began as soon as they had sat down, “I suppose you boys are wondering what is up.”

“Something like that,” Gordon grinned.

“Anything is welcome so long as it brought you up here,” Bill added.

“Thanks,” Rogers smiled. “Believe me I’m always glad to come here and see you two boys. Don’t know of a single other place where I’d rather be. But this time I had a very definite object in coming and when I’ve told you the story I think you’ll agree that it’s a queer one.”

“Starts in good,” Gordon declared.

“But it hasn’t started yet,” Rogers told him.

“No, but I mean it sounds as though it was going to be good,” Gordon explained.

“Well, here goes. In the first place you must know that I was born in the city of Gloucester, Massachusetts, and my parents still live there in the same house. You of course know that Gloucester used to be a famous home port for whalers and for many years my ancestors followed that trade. I believe a man named Rogers is more or less famous for having captured the largest whale ever brought in. That was more than a hundred and fifty years ago but it is a matter of record. It’s an old house, the one in which I was born, but they knew how to build in those days and it is still in good shape and the timbers seem as sound as ever.

“I’ve been home a few days with my wife and yesterday morning it was raining and, having nothing to do, I went up into the attic, where there is a great conglomeration of all sorts of things, and began rummaging about as I like to do. Well, stuck away back in one corner and covered with dust I found a small trunk which must have been there no one knows how many years. Strange why no one ever noticed it before but it was way back in a dark corner, as I said, and I guess no one ever saw it, as there was a lot of stuff piled in front of it.

“It was locked but the leather had rotted away so that the lock fell out almost as soon as I touched it. It was almost full of papers yellow with age and most of them were newspapers and didn’t mean a thing to me except that they were pretty old, most of them being dated back before the Civil War. But, to make a long story short, down at the bottom of the heap I found an old pocket-book and in it was a paper and that paper is what brings me here.”

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