"Dixon, Franklin W - Hardy Boys 008 - The Mystery of Cabin Island" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dixon Franklin W)

"Ever been there before?" Chet asked, straining to get his words out against the cold air that whipped across his face.

Joe shook his head. "We've never tried to take our motorboat into that cove. It's shallow and you'd rip the hull unless you knew for sure where every rock is. But we shouldn't have any trouble now."

Presently the ice-yacht raced up the inlet. "We'll go around for a look-see," said Frank.

Skilfully he circled the heavily wooded island. The shoreline facing the bay dropped off in an icy cliff, but the side opposite the mainland road to Bayport sloped gradually. At the edge of the shore Frank spotted a tall pine.

"Let's land there," he said.

He put the speeding craft into a wide semicircle opposite the tree. The sails slackened, the ice-yacht slowed down, then drifted straight to the pine, where Frank put on the brake and Joe lashed the craft to the tree.

"Right on the nose," Bid said admiringly as they clambered ashore.

The four started up the hill. Soon they glimpsed the cabin, perched in a clearing on the highest point of the island.

Joe stopped abruptly and pointed to a set of large bootprints in the light snow. "How can anyone else be here?" he asked. "There's no other ice-yacht here, and it'd be a long, slippery walk from the mainland."

Frank shrugged. "I doubt that the person is still here. It hasn't snowed for a week, so those prints could have been made several days ago."

"But they only lead upward," Joe observed. "There are none going back down the hill."

"Maybe whoever he was went down another way," Frank suggested.

The boys resumed their ascent. As they approached the cabin, a broad-shouldered figure in a plaid mackinaw coat appeared from behind a clump of brush and strode towards them.

He was a surly-looking man in his early thirties, who walked with his neck thrust forward. His off-balance, lumbering gait amused Joe, but the man's words were not funny.

"Get off this island!" he shouted. The Hardys were taken by surprise, but only for seconds.

"Who says?" Joe retorted.

"I say so, and I'll show you!" came the reply as the man thrust his right hand into the mackinaw's deep pocket. He strode closer, glaring at the foursome.

"Don't threaten us!" Biff said angrily, cocking his right fist.

"If it's a fight you want," Frank said coolly, "the odds are one to four. So don't be foolish. Besides, we have permission to be on this island."

The hostile man hesitated, looking from face to face. "What makes you think I don't have permission, too?" he asked. Then the stranger made the mistake of advancing a step farther. Biff feinted with a quick left hand and sent his right fist into the man's midriff. With an "oof" the man sat heavily in the snow, then scrambled to his feet, muttering threats.

"Aw, knock it off," said Chet.

"We won't get anywhere arguing with him," Frank said quietly. "Come on!" The boys turned and retraced their steps to the Seagull. Frank and Joe kept glancing back, but the hostile stranger did not follow.

Back in the ice-yacht, Joe said, "I wonder if Mr Jefferson knows that man and gave him permission to come to Cabin Island."

"I doubt it," said Frank. "Say, maybe this has something to do with the mystery."

"Some welcoming committee!" Chet grumbled.