Deadfall (12 page)

Joe leapt to his feet and fell onto CoUins's back, sending him sprawling sideways with the rifle an arm's length away.

'*Watch it, Collins!" Joe taunted, grabbing the rifle and flinging it into the bushes. "You almost hurt yourself!" He danced from side to side, trying to draw attention away from his brother.

"So you got rid of my gun, eh?" Collins growled. "That's okay." Collins staggered toward Joe. "A knife fight's more my style anyway."

Whipping a knife out of a leather sheath that hung from his belt, Collins feinted at Joe. Joe jumped back, and the ex-convict slashed his knife sideways in a glittering, underhanded sweep that missed Joe's stomach by inches.

"Especially if the other guy doesn't have one," Joe retorted. He danced backward, farther and farther away from Frank. Collins took the bait, running after Joe and slashing the air between them with his gleaming blade.

"Frank! Callie! Get out of here!" Joe shouted

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as he worked his way backward, always a step from Collins's vicious slashes. Behind Collins, Joe watched as Callie raced over to Frank and helped him up.

''Run for the jeep!" Joe called as he moved away from the flashing blade.

Collins spun around to see Callie and Frank getting away. Enraged, he charged toward them, cutting off their path to the jeep.

Joe ran after Collins as fast as he could. Just as he was prepared to lunge at the foreman again, though, Collins turned and brandished the knife in his face.

''Come on, kid," Collins shouted. "Try me!"

As Joe and Collins circled each other in a deadly game of tag, Joe's eye was caught by a group of tree trunks floating quickly down the flume. They gave him an idea.

"Frank, Callie, run to the log flume! Ride a log to get away!" Joe shouted.

Keeping himself between Collins and Frank and Calhe, Joe backed toward the flume. He circled to avoid Collins's blade, glancing repeatedly over his shoulder until the flume came into full view.

Frank, weak but determined, was already standing on the edge of the two-foot-deep flume. As Joe watched in quick glimpses, Frank and Callie jumped aboard the next log that rumbled by. Holding their arms out and keeping their legs flexed for balance, they slid down the man-made stream. Collins moved forward again, and Joe

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lost sight of them as he concentrated on getting away.

''It's all right, kid," Collins growled as he tried to force Joe back against a pine tree. "They can get away. I still have you to hold hostage."

"You wish, Collins," Joe said, ducking out of the foreman's reach. The flume was only a few steps behind him now. "When I get out of here I'm going straight to the sheriff," Joe taunted. "Your days of freedom are numbered."

Just before Joe reached the flume, Collins made a quick lunge at him. Joe slammed a karate chop down on Collins's wrist. But the blow failed to knock the knife loose from his hand. Doubly enraged, Collins now charged at the boy with his knife raised above his head.

A sudden roaring noise warned Joe that another log was on its way down. He turned in time to see the huge log appear in the flume. As it passed, Joe sprang up and landed awkwardly on the slick bark, faced in the wrong direction.

Thrilled to get away from the deranged murderer, Joe maintained his balance and slowly turned around to face the front on the swiftly moving log.

"Cool," he said to himself as the dusky landscape surged past. "It's like catching a monster wave at the beach!"

Moments later the flume began to level out. Up ahead, Joe could see that it emptied into a dammed-up backwater. As Joe's log sped

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toward the pool of still water, Joe prepared for the rough landing. At the end of the flume, the log dropped out from under him, and Joe flew through the air to land in the water with a splash.

He sank down through the water, then bobbed back up to the surface. He shook the water out of his hair and hooted triumphantly. He spotted Frank and Callie watching from a huge log boom—a raft of five dozen huge tree trunks lashed together and chained to a spotlighted dock.

''We made it!" Joe cried as he swam toward them. "You were great, Callie!" He reached the edge of the boom and grabbed the nearest log to try to pull himself up. But the wood was too slippery.

"How about a hand here?" he called.

Joe was surprised when Frank and Callie didn't move to help him.

"Are you guys deaf? I asked for a hand up!"

As Joe tried to scramble up on the slippery log by himself, he saw that someone was standing up behind Callie and Frank.

It was Bo Johnson.

Johnson stepped nimbly over to Joe's log and whipped a snub-nosed revolver out of his belt.

"Sure, kid," he said as he shoved it in Joe's face. "I'll give you a hand—right into your grave!"

Joe cast a quick glance in Frank's direction.

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A discreet nod told him Frank was ready for action.

''I can't get up," Joe said to Johnson in a casual voice. "Really—can you help me up?"

"Not a chance, kid," Johnson snapped. "I'm not that dumb."

"Let me help," Frank said quietly, taking a step toward Johnson.

Johnson wheeled around, pointing the gun at Frank. "Stay where you are!"

It was a perfect chance, and Joe took it. Pushing down on the log, he shot up out of the water, grabbed Johnson around the upper body, and pinned his arms to his sides. At the same time, Frank slammed into Johnson from the other side, and Joe, Frank, and Johnson fell backward into the dark green water of the millpond.

As soon as they hit the water, Frank was separated from his brother and the mill owner. For long, frightening seconds, he struggled to find them in the murky water beside the massive logs. Finally out of breath, he swam to the surface and saw his brother pop up at the same time. Callie cried out, "Joe! Watch out!" as Bo Johnson lunged at Joe from behind. Joe turned and struck out. He caught Johnson on the side of the head and watched as he fell backward, striking his head on a floating log. He slid silently beneath the surface of the water.

"Catch him!" Frank ordered. "Otherwise he'll drown."

Joe and Frank towed the unconscious sawmill

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owner back toward the raft, where Callie stood watching. Frank kept Johnson afloat while Joe cUmbed onto the raft. Then he and Callie hauled Johnson aboard and laid him on his side. Johnson drew a deep, shuddery breath, then pushed himself up on his elbows.

Frank pulled himself up onto the raft and walked over to Johnson. ''Can you stand, Mr. Johnson?" he asked as he helped him up. ''Good. Then you can come with us to see Sheriff Ferris.''

Johnson coughed again. "You'll never get me there."

"Who's going to stop us?" Joe asked as they led Johnson across the log boom toward the dock. "You can't, and your hired thug, ColHns, is back up the mountain."

"Your first mistake was underestimating us, Johnson," Frank said. He quickly added, "Your second one was trying to frame a friend of ours. Now it's payback time."

"Don't be so sure your plans will work out so perfectly," Johnson said.

Callie interrupted. "How will we get out of here?"

"We'll use Johnson's car," Joe replied. "I'm sure he won't mind giving us a lift to Ferris's office."

In the distance Joe heard a car approaching. It sounded like someone was playing the radio. The sound grew louder and Joe spotted a large

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red car speeding down the access road to the dock.

''Here comes the cavalry," Johnson said smugly.

The red Cadillac squealed to a stop at the base of the dock, and Rafe Collins hopped out. Beaming at the Hardys, Collins went around to the trunk of the car, opened it, and pulled out a chainsaw with the longest blade Joe had ever seen.

"Howdy, kids!" he called as he reached forward to thumb the starter switch on. "It's wood-shop time!"

As Callie and the Hardys stared in horror, the chainsaw started up with an ear-splitting roar.

Chapter

16

"Scatter!" Frank ordered.

*'What about Johnson?" Joe shouted.

'Torget Johnson!" Frank shouted back. ''Save yourself!"

ColHns jumped off the end of the dock and landed easily on the log boom. Frank stared in horror as he moved to within thirty feet of Joe, who stubbornly held on to Johnson.

Suddenly Johnson's elbow shot back and jabbed into Joe's stomach. Joe let go of Johnson and doubled over in pain. But Joe knew he had to act fast.

He straightened up and slammed Johnson in the jaw with a sudden uppercut. Silently Johnson collapsed to the floor of the raft.

The instant Johnson dropped, Collins charged Joe with the chainsaw. Callie screamed, but

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Frank remained perfectly still, tensed for action. The big saw looked heavy, he observed, but Collins had the strength to swing its blade around in wide, dangerous slashes.

As Collins drew close to Joe, Frank's eyes darted around him in search of something to use as a weapon. At last he spotted two rusty pea-veys leaning against the side of the dock. Six-foot poles topped with long pointed spikes and a bared hook, peaveys were used by loggers to manhandle the logs in the water. But Frank had another use for them.

Behind Collins's back, Frank dashed over to the peaveys, picking up one in each hand. ''Catch, Joe!" he shouted, hurling the peavey in his left hand Hke a javelin. It sailed past Collins to Joe, who caught it in both hands.

Joe instantly turned the peavey against Col-Hns, holding it out in front of him like a spear. With a laugh, Collins dodged the peavey's point and swung his chainsaw blade around to lop off its head. The sharp steel tip hit the log beneath their feet with a dull thud.

''Too bad, son!" Collins jeered as Joe retreated several steps, still holding the pole out before him. Collins slashed his sawblade in a Z-shaped pattern, cutting off another foot of Joe's pole. "Better give up now!"

Collins was so occupied with cornering Joe that he failed to notice Frank charging toward him from behind. Slamming the peavey straight down over Collins's shoulder, Frank used the

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peavey like a crowbar to pry the chainsaw from the foreman's hands.

Frank and Joe watched, fascinated, as the huge chainsaw went skidding over the edge of the log boom into the water and sank in a trail of oily bubbles.

''You!" Collins roared, turning his rage on Frank. But Frank was ready for him. He swung the peavey down on ColUns's shoulder, then brought up the butt end of the pole and struck the foreman in the stomach. Callie and Joe watched, frozen, as Collins staggered backward into the pool.

"He's drowning!" Callie shouted as Frank and Joe watched Collins flounder in the water. Frank grabbed the peavey and snagged the collar of Colhns's shirt with the hook.

"Had enough, Collins?" Frank asked.

Collins glared at the Hardys. Then he nodded sullenly.

The next morning Frank was still sore from the previous day's adventures as he sat at Sheriff Ferris's desk, sipping a soda. Joe sat on one side of Frank, with Callie on the other. Stan Shaw stood, leaning against the wall next to Callie.

"Now let me make sure I have all of this straight," Ferris was saying. "It was Rafe Collins who actually planted the dynamite in the Horizon sawmill."

"Right," Frank confirmed. "My guess is that

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if you compare Johnson Lumber's dynamite with the results of the arson investigators' lab results that should arrive today, the two should match perfectly. And remember that Vance Galen saw Collins's red Cadillac by the mill just before it blew up."

''So far the story holds together," Ferris replied. ''But how did Buster Owens end up in the Horizon mill?"

"First, you need to remember that Collins had Buster's key ring," Joe responded. "Millie Owens identified it herself, right?"

The sheriff nodded.

"That key ring could only have come from Buster," Joe continued. "Since Buster had the keys until at least an hour before he died, chances are that he killed Buster and stole the keys. And then there are the bootprints. Did you compare Collins's boots with those prints Frank photographed?"

"I certainly did, last night," the sheriff told the group. "The sole of one boot has three missing hobnails right where Frank's pictures showed them missing."

"Did you find Collins's fingerprints on the dynamite he planted in Stan Shaw's truck, or on the bulldozer he tried to ram us with?" Frank asked.

"Nope," Ferris told him. "He must have been wearing gloves. But the bootprints, along with the key ring and Galen's testimony, might be evidence enough."

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"What I don't get is why Johnson framed me/' Stan said mildly.

"Yeah. Vance Galen would seem a more likely person to pin it on," Joe agreed.

"But if Stan was being held by the sheriff as a murderer, it would give Johnson a better chance to get that franchise from the Forest Service. After all, that's what he was aiming for," Frank pointed out.

"You see. Sheriff," Frank went on, "we think that when Johnson learned what Buster was planning, he figured the only way to keep from being put out of business was to close down Horizon Lumber until he could retool at Johnson Lumber. That's why he tried to buy the equipment that was intended for Horizon."

"But why would he kill poor Buster?" Stan Shaw wondered.

"I'm not so sure killing Buster was part of the plan," Joe replied. "Judging by the way his truck was forced off the road some distance from the mill. Buster's running into Collins might have been an accident. Maybe Collins panicked when he realized Buster was headed for his mill, and forced him off the road. He knocked him out and then decided to eliminate him by leaving him in the mill."

"Well, all that's for a jury to decide," Ferris observed. "At least now the right people will be tried for the crimes. Stan, I'm sorry you had to go through all this."

"No hard feelings," Stan Shaw said with a

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wan smile. ''You were just doing your job. But if that's all you need, I'd like to get out of here."