The boys burst into laughter, then Joe said, “If there’s anybody here who can tell us what we want to know, I’m sure it’s you. But first, what do you mean you’re a rice thrower?”
The station agent guffawed. “Well, it don’t happen often, but when a bride and groom comes down here to take a train, I just go out, grab some of the rice, and throw it along with everybody else. I reckon if that’ll make ‘em happy, I want to be part of the proceedin’s.”
Again the Hardys roared with laughter. Then Frank inquired if the man had known Red Jackley.
“I sure did,” Jake replied. “Funny kind of fellow. Work like mad one minute, then loaf on the job the next. One thing about him, he never wanted nobody to give him any orders.”
“Did you know that he died recently?” Frank asked.
“No, I didn’t,” the stationmaster answered. “I’m real sorry to hear that. Jackley wasn’t a bad sort when I knew him. Just got to keepin’ the wrong kind of company, I guess.”
“Can you tell us any particular characteristics he had?” Frank questioned.
Jake scratched his head above his visor. Finally he said, “The thing I remember most about Jackley is that he was a regular monkey. He was nimble as could be, racin’ up and down freight-car ladders.”
At that moment they heard a train whistle and the man said hurriedly, “Got to leave you now, boys. Come back some other time when I ain’t so busy. Got to meet this train.”
The Hardys left him and Frank suggested, “Let’s eat our lunch and then come back.”
They found a little grove of trees beside the railroad tracks and propped their motorcycles against a large tree.
“I’m starved,” said Frank, seating himself under the tree and opening his box of lunch.
“Boy, this is good!” Joe exclaimed a moment later as he bit hungrily into a thick roast beef sandwich.
“If Jackley had only stayed with the railroad company,” Frank observed as he munched a deviled egg, “it would’ve been better for everyone.”
“He sure caused a lot of trouble before he died,” Joe agreed.
“And he’s caused a lot more since, the way things have gone. For the Robinsons, especially.”
The boys gazed reflectively down the tracks, gleaming in the sun. The rails stretched far into the distance. Only a few hundred feet from the place where they were seated, the Hardys could see both water tanks: the dilapidated, weatherbeaten wooden one, with some of the rungs missing from the ladder that led up its side, and the squat, metal tank, perched on spindly legs.
Frank took a bite of his sandwich and chewed it thoughtfully. The sight of the two water towers had given him an idea, but at first it seemed to him too absurd for consideration. He was wondering whether or not he should mention it to his brother.
Then he noticed that Joe, too, was gazing intently down the tracks at the tanks. Joe raised a cooky to his lips absently, attempted a bite, and missed the cooky altogether. Still he continued gazing fixedly in the same direction.
Finally Joe turned and looked at his brother. Both knew that they were thinking the identical thing.
“Two water towers,” Frank said in a low but excited tone.
“An old one and a newer one,” Joe murmured.
“And Jackley said-“
“He hid the stuff in the old tower.”
“He was a railroad man.”
“Why not?” Joe shouted, springing to his feet “Why couldn’t it have been this old water tower he meant? He used to work around here.”
“After all, he didn’t say the old tower of Tower Mansion. He just said ‘old tower’!”
“Frank, I believe we’ve stumbled on a terrific due!” Joe said jubilantly. “It would be the natural thing for Jackley to come to his former haunts after the robbery!”
“Right!” Frank agreed.
“And when he discovered that Chet’s jalopy was gone, he probably thought that the police were hot on his trail, so he decided to hide the loot some place he knew-where no one else would suspect. The old water tower! This must be the place!”
CHAPTER XIX
Loot!
LUNCH, motorcycles-everything else was forgotten! With wild yells of excitement, Frank and Joe hurried down the embankment which flanked the right of way.
But as they came to a fence that separated the tracks from the grass and weeds that grew along the side, they stopped short. Someone on the highway above was sounding a car horn. Looking up, they recognized the driver.
Smuff!
“Oh, good night!” Joe cried out.
“The last person we want to see right now,” Frank said in disgust.
“We’ll get rid of him in a hurry,” Joe determined.
The boys turned around and climbed back up the embankment. By this time Oscar Smuff had stepped from his car and was walking down to meet the boys.
“Well, I found you,” he said.
“You mean you’ve been looking for us?” Frank asked in astonishment.
The detective grinned. With an ingratiating air he explained to the boys that he had trailed them for miles. He had seen them leave home on their motorcycles, and almost caught up with them at the Bayport station, only to lose them. But the stationmaster had revealed the Hardys’ next destination, and the aspiring sleuth had hastened to talk to the flagman, Mike Halley.
“He told me I’d find you here,” Smuff said, self-satisfaction evident in his tone.
“But why do you want us?” Joe demanded.
“I’ve come to make a proposition,” Smuff announced. “I’ve got a swell clue about Jackley and that loot he hid, but I need somebody to help me in the search. How about it, fellows? If old Smuff lets you in on his secret, will you help him?”
Frank and Joe were astounded at this turn of events. Did the man really know something important? Or was he suddenly becoming clever and trying to trick the Hardys into divulging what they knew? One thing the brothers were sure of: they wanted nothing to do with Oscar Smuff until they had searched the old water tower.
“Thanks for the compliment,” Frank said. He grinned. “Joe and I think we’re pretty good ourselves. We’re glad you do.”
“Then you’ll work with me?” Smuff asked, his eyes lighting up in anticipation.
“I didn’t say yes and I didn’t say no,” Frank countered. He glanced at Joe, who was standing in back of the detective. Joe shook his head vigorously. “Tell you what, Smuff,” Frank went on. “When Joe and I get back to Bayport, we’ll look you up. We came out here to have a picnic lunch and relax.”
Smuff’s face fell. But he was not giving up so easily. “When I drove up, I saw you running like mad down the bank. Do you call that relaxing?”
“Oh, when you sit around awhile eating, your legs feel kind of cramped,” Joe told him. “Anyway, we have to keep in practice for the Bayport High baseball team.”
Smuff looked as if he did not know whether or not he was being kidded. But finally he said, “Okay, fellows. If you’ll get in touch with me the first of the week, I can promise you a big surprise. You’ve proved you can’t win the thousand-dollar reward alone, so we may as well each get a share of it. I’ve already admitted I need help to solve this mystery.”
He turned and slowly ambled up the embankment to his car. The boys waved good-by to the detective and waited until he was far out of sight and they were sure he would not return. Then Frank and Joe hurried down to the tracks, vaulted the fence, and ran pell-mell toward the old water tower.
“If only we have stumbled on the secret!” Frank said enthusiastically.
“It’ll clear Mr. Robinson-“
“We will earn the reward by ourselves-“