"I'll call the camp and ask to speak to him," Mr. Hardy decided. "I'll tell them there's a family emergency." He took the letter and retreated upstairs to his office where he had the camp's phone number just in case something had happened.
Frank entered his dad's office and sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. He could tell by the look on his dad's face he was growing both frustrated and worried.
"I don't know what group he is in!" Mr. Hardy shouted. "He's one of the counselors."
Mr. Hardy glanced warily at his eldest son. "Yes, please," he answered when asked if he would like to speak with one of the camp's directors. Mr. Hardy put a finger to his lips then turned on the speaker phone so Frank could hear.
"Mr. Hardy? My name is Craig Blevins. How can I help you?"
"I need to speak with my son, Joe," Mr. Hardy answered. "It's urgent."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hardy but Joe is out with his group. They left for a two day camping trip this morning. I can see that he gets a message on his return if you like?"
"No, no," Mr. Hardy responded. "I'll call back in two days."
"As you wish," Craig said. "Goodbye."
Mr. Hardy disconnected the speakerphone, a worried frown on his face as he sat down behind his desk. "You're right," he acknowledged. "Joe's in trouble. Craig sounded too friendly and too eager to pass on a message."
"We have to go there," Frank said.
"Agreed," Mr. Hardy concurred. "But there isn't any way to infiltrate the camp at this late date without being discovered."
"The camp is beside a state park," Fank said. "What if we go camping?"
"If someone spots just the two of us, they might figure out who we are and that would put Joe in more jeopardy than he is already in, if possible," Mr. Hardy vetoed the idea, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his desk, his hands clasped together thoughtfully as he rested his chin on them.
"But if someone sees three teeanaged guys camping, they wouldn't think anything of it," Frank said, an idea forming. "Biff's grounding is over, and I'm sure Mr. Morton would agree to let Chet come."
"All right," Mr. Hardy agreed, sitting up straight in his chair and looking Frank in the eyes. "I'll call and speak with Mr. Morton. You use the other line and call Biff. We'll have them meet here in two hours and discuss our plan of action."
Two hours later, Frank was surprised to open the front door and find not only Biff and Chet, but also Phil Cohen standing on the porch. "Hey," Biff said as he followed the other two boys inside. "I talked to Phil after you called and he wanted to help."
"Good," Frank replied. "We can use all the help we can get."
"What's going on?" Chet demanded, his brown eyes curious. "Dad said your dad said Joe needed our help, but he didn't give any particulars."
"Come on into the living room," Frank said. "Dad and I will tell you what's going on." The boys went into the living room and sat down. Chet and Biff sat on the sofa and Phil took an armchair near the coffee table. Frank sat down on the ottoman and sighed. He couldn't stop thinking about Joe.
"How about some milk and cookies?" Mrs. Hardy asked, her smile faint but her friendliness genuine, as she looked at the abnormally quite youths who had taken up residence in the room.
"That'd be great," Chet replied, giving her a big smile. "Need some help?"
Mrs. Hardy blinked her eyes a few times to chase away the tears which had sprung to her eyes. "No," she declined. "Fenton will be down in a minute," she added, leaving him in no doubt she knew why they were there.
As soon as she left, Mr. Hardy could be heard coming down the stairs. He was standing before the boys in another instant. "Have you told them about Joe's letter?" he asked Frank, coming right to the point.
Frank shook his head and stood up. He began pacing as he told his friends about the letter and why it was a phony. Mrs. Hardy returned at this time and sat down a tray with a pitcher of milk, some cups and a plate of cookies. "I'll be upstairs," she said, leaving the room quietly.
Mr. Hardy grabbed her elbow as she passed him on her way out and gave it a gentle, encouraging squeeze. Mrs. Hardy smiled at him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, saying nothing more before leaving.
As Chet poured everyone some milk, Mr. Hardy told them about his phone call and not being able to reach Joe. "What do you want us to do?" Phil asked, his hazel eyes watchful as they looked at Mr. Hardy.
"The land next to the camp is a state park," Mr. Hardy informed the group. "You four will go in as campers and look around. If Joe isn't at the camp. I'm sure he is somewhere near."
"What about you?" Frank asked.
"I'm going under as a park ranger," Mr. Hardy told him. "I'll have the authority to scout around as well as access to maps which might show a feasible hiding place."
"When do we leave?" Biff asked.
"First thing in the morning," Frank answered. He was itching to get busy. It had been two weeks since Joe had left for camp and the only other communication he had received from Joe was a postcard which said only, "Wish you were here." He wasn't even sure Joe had sent that!
"I've already arranged everything you will need," Mr. Hardy was saying. "Just pack some clothes."
"I've got my sleeping bag," Phil said, knowing he hadn't been included in the original plan.
"That's okay," Mr. Hardy told him, smiling at his sons' loyal friend. "Marvin's Outdoors opens at six in the morning," he said, mentioning the local sport shop. "Marvin has agreed to outfit you boys for the trip and put it on my tab."
"How will we contact you while we are out there?" Chet asked.
"You can ask for Officer Dermont, that will be my cover, at the Ranger Station," Mr. Hardy answered. "But I'll be around to check on you guys at least once a day."
"What if you get another letter?" Phil asked. "If Frank doesn't answer, they might get suspicious," he added.
"I'm going to send one tonight with false information," Frank explained. "That will give us a few days at least."
"And if something arrives that does need to be answered, Laura can write Joe telling him Frank hasn't returned and can leak anything we tell her to," Mr. Hardy added. "If these people are keeping Joe alive for any information we might give him, then it will be important to give them morsels every now and then."
"You want us to meet you at the sporting store at six?" Phil asked Frank, standing up.
"Actually, we'd like you to be here at four in the morning," Frank said.
"Why so early?" Biff wanted to know.
"We don't know how much, if anything, these people know about Joe and his friends. It's obvious they have been intercepting Frank's correspondence to Joe. It's safe to assume they have kept Joe's letters as well," Mr. Hardy explained. "I think it would be best if all of you went in wearing disguises."
"We'll dye our hair and get ready before we head out to the sports store," Frank picked up. "I doubt anyone in Bayport is involved, but to be on the safe side, I'd rather start out right."
"We can't take your van, then," Chet observed.
"We can take my jeep," Phil offered.
"What jeep?" Biff demanded in surprise. He hadn't know Phil had wheels.
Phil smiled. "My dad gave it to me as an early birthday present," he said. "I got my insurance this morning."
The three friends bade the Hardys goodbye and left. Frank went upstairs to compose his letter, giving it to his father to proof before sealing it in an envelope to be mailed by Mrs. Hardy the next morning. Then the three Hardys retired to bed, prepared for the fitful sleep they knew would come under the circumstances.
Frank entered his dad's office and sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. He could tell by the look on his dad's face he was growing both frustrated and worried.
"I don't know what group he is in!" Mr. Hardy shouted. "He's one of the counselors."
Mr. Hardy glanced warily at his eldest son. "Yes, please," he answered when asked if he would like to speak with one of the camp's directors. Mr. Hardy put a finger to his lips then turned on the speaker phone so Frank could hear.
"Mr. Hardy? My name is Craig Blevins. How can I help you?"
"I need to speak with my son, Joe," Mr. Hardy answered. "It's urgent."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hardy but Joe is out with his group. They left for a two day camping trip this morning. I can see that he gets a message on his return if you like?"
"No, no," Mr. Hardy responded. "I'll call back in two days."
"As you wish," Craig said. "Goodbye."
Mr. Hardy disconnected the speakerphone, a worried frown on his face as he sat down behind his desk. "You're right," he acknowledged. "Joe's in trouble. Craig sounded too friendly and too eager to pass on a message."
"We have to go there," Frank said.
"Agreed," Mr. Hardy concurred. "But there isn't any way to infiltrate the camp at this late date without being discovered."
"The camp is beside a state park," Fank said. "What if we go camping?"
"If someone spots just the two of us, they might figure out who we are and that would put Joe in more jeopardy than he is already in, if possible," Mr. Hardy vetoed the idea, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his desk, his hands clasped together thoughtfully as he rested his chin on them.
"But if someone sees three teeanaged guys camping, they wouldn't think anything of it," Frank said, an idea forming. "Biff's grounding is over, and I'm sure Mr. Morton would agree to let Chet come."
"All right," Mr. Hardy agreed, sitting up straight in his chair and looking Frank in the eyes. "I'll call and speak with Mr. Morton. You use the other line and call Biff. We'll have them meet here in two hours and discuss our plan of action."
Two hours later, Frank was surprised to open the front door and find not only Biff and Chet, but also Phil Cohen standing on the porch. "Hey," Biff said as he followed the other two boys inside. "I talked to Phil after you called and he wanted to help."
"Good," Frank replied. "We can use all the help we can get."
"What's going on?" Chet demanded, his brown eyes curious. "Dad said your dad said Joe needed our help, but he didn't give any particulars."
"Come on into the living room," Frank said. "Dad and I will tell you what's going on." The boys went into the living room and sat down. Chet and Biff sat on the sofa and Phil took an armchair near the coffee table. Frank sat down on the ottoman and sighed. He couldn't stop thinking about Joe.
"How about some milk and cookies?" Mrs. Hardy asked, her smile faint but her friendliness genuine, as she looked at the abnormally quite youths who had taken up residence in the room.
"That'd be great," Chet replied, giving her a big smile. "Need some help?"
Mrs. Hardy blinked her eyes a few times to chase away the tears which had sprung to her eyes. "No," she declined. "Fenton will be down in a minute," she added, leaving him in no doubt she knew why they were there.
As soon as she left, Mr. Hardy could be heard coming down the stairs. He was standing before the boys in another instant. "Have you told them about Joe's letter?" he asked Frank, coming right to the point.
Frank shook his head and stood up. He began pacing as he told his friends about the letter and why it was a phony. Mrs. Hardy returned at this time and sat down a tray with a pitcher of milk, some cups and a plate of cookies. "I'll be upstairs," she said, leaving the room quietly.
Mr. Hardy grabbed her elbow as she passed him on her way out and gave it a gentle, encouraging squeeze. Mrs. Hardy smiled at him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, saying nothing more before leaving.
As Chet poured everyone some milk, Mr. Hardy told them about his phone call and not being able to reach Joe. "What do you want us to do?" Phil asked, his hazel eyes watchful as they looked at Mr. Hardy.
"The land next to the camp is a state park," Mr. Hardy informed the group. "You four will go in as campers and look around. If Joe isn't at the camp. I'm sure he is somewhere near."
"What about you?" Frank asked.
"I'm going under as a park ranger," Mr. Hardy told him. "I'll have the authority to scout around as well as access to maps which might show a feasible hiding place."
"When do we leave?" Biff asked.
"First thing in the morning," Frank answered. He was itching to get busy. It had been two weeks since Joe had left for camp and the only other communication he had received from Joe was a postcard which said only, "Wish you were here." He wasn't even sure Joe had sent that!
"I've already arranged everything you will need," Mr. Hardy was saying. "Just pack some clothes."
"I've got my sleeping bag," Phil said, knowing he hadn't been included in the original plan.
"That's okay," Mr. Hardy told him, smiling at his sons' loyal friend. "Marvin's Outdoors opens at six in the morning," he said, mentioning the local sport shop. "Marvin has agreed to outfit you boys for the trip and put it on my tab."
"How will we contact you while we are out there?" Chet asked.
"You can ask for Officer Dermont, that will be my cover, at the Ranger Station," Mr. Hardy answered. "But I'll be around to check on you guys at least once a day."
"What if you get another letter?" Phil asked. "If Frank doesn't answer, they might get suspicious," he added.
"I'm going to send one tonight with false information," Frank explained. "That will give us a few days at least."
"And if something arrives that does need to be answered, Laura can write Joe telling him Frank hasn't returned and can leak anything we tell her to," Mr. Hardy added. "If these people are keeping Joe alive for any information we might give him, then it will be important to give them morsels every now and then."
"You want us to meet you at the sporting store at six?" Phil asked Frank, standing up.
"Actually, we'd like you to be here at four in the morning," Frank said.
"Why so early?" Biff wanted to know.
"We don't know how much, if anything, these people know about Joe and his friends. It's obvious they have been intercepting Frank's correspondence to Joe. It's safe to assume they have kept Joe's letters as well," Mr. Hardy explained. "I think it would be best if all of you went in wearing disguises."
"We'll dye our hair and get ready before we head out to the sports store," Frank picked up. "I doubt anyone in Bayport is involved, but to be on the safe side, I'd rather start out right."
"We can't take your van, then," Chet observed.
"We can take my jeep," Phil offered.
"What jeep?" Biff demanded in surprise. He hadn't know Phil had wheels.
Phil smiled. "My dad gave it to me as an early birthday present," he said. "I got my insurance this morning."
The three friends bade the Hardys goodbye and left. Frank went upstairs to compose his letter, giving it to his father to proof before sealing it in an envelope to be mailed by Mrs. Hardy the next morning. Then the three Hardys retired to bed, prepared for the fitful sleep they knew would come under the circumstances.