“You can’t dig up many of them,” came from Joe.
“Why not? Any fellow ought to jump at a chance like that.”
“Well, some of them wouldn’t be allowed to leave home—got to work and all that. And some are on the ball team and have to practice when they aren’t playing a game. And Dick Roylet and his crowd are going on an auto tour.”
“Well, we’ll get somebody—if we go,” put in Frank.
Next day when the Hardy boys told their parents about the outing they had planned, Mr. and Mrs. Hardy glanced at one another.
“Don’t you think you had better be making your preparations for going to college?” suggested Mr. Hardy.
“If you wait too long, perhaps you may not be able to get in,” their mother ventured.
“Do we have to go to college?” asked Frank.
Mr. Hardy looked dubious.
“You know, your mother and I have always had that in mind for you.”
Joe groaned.
“I’ll make a rotten lawyer.”
“And I’m sure I’ll be a pretty punk doctor,” declared Frank. “Dad, won’t you let us go into business with you? We like detective work. It’s the only thing we’ll ever be happy at. Haven’t we done fairly well with the cases we’ve had so far?”
“Yes, you’ve done well. I’ll admit that. Still—I think I’d rather see you go in for something else.”
“Would you want us to go in for something we wouldn’t enjoy?” said Joe. “A person can’t be a success in his work unless he really likes it.”
“That’s true,” returned Mr. Hardy, weakening a little. “Well, I must have time to think it over.”
Frank offered a suggestion.
“Let us go on our outing first, and by the time we come back we can settle the whole thing. We’ll be back in plenty of time to go to college, if you really insist that we go.”
Mrs. Hardy nodded. “I think that’s fair enough, Fenton,” she said to her husband.
“All right, then,” agreed the detective. “We’ll let the matter rest for the time being, and as soon as you boys return from your trip we’ll go into it thoroughly. But you must promise to abide by my decision. I don’t want to send you to college against your will, but I do want to do what’s best for your future.”
“We understand that,” said the boys. “It’s for our own good. But we do want to be detectives.”
Mr. Hardy smiled.
“You seem to have your minds made up, at any rate. Well, let it go at that. Have your outing and enjoy yourselves. Then we’ll settle the whole matter, once and for all.”
However, the lads had little time in which to proceed with their plans for the outing. They did not see Chet Morton that afternoon and the trip was not discussed with any of the other lads they met. Next morning, as they were having breakfast, their father came into the dining room.
“After breakfast is over,” he said, “come into my study. I want to have a little talk with you.”
“We’ll be there.”
When their father had gone, they fell to wondering why he wanted to see them.
“I can’t think of any mischief we’ve been into—except breaking that pane of glass in the garage,” said Joe.
“He wouldn’t scold us for that. I intended to put in a new pane of glass today.”
“There’s something in the wind.”
They hurried through the remainder of the meal, anxious to learn the reason for the summons. When they went into the study, Mr. Hardy was reading a long typewritten letter which he placed to one side.
“I’ve been asked to handle a case,” he explained at once, “and I thought maybe you could help me a little. Sometimes you hear of things that I mightn’t learn about. This is a serious case and just now I’m trying to make up my mind how to go about it.”
“What has happened, Dad?” asked Frank.
“I received this letter this morning from the postal authorities, explaining the circumstances. It seems that several bags of valuable mail have disappeared from one of the hangars at the airport near here.”
“Stolen?”
“They couldn’t have disappeared any other way. The mail, as you know, is very carefully guarded. In this instance, the train that was to take the mail into the city was a few minutes late and the sacks were accidently left unguarded. When the train arrived it was found that the mail had disappeared. The matter is being kept quiet for the time being, in the hope that we may get a clue. But so far the whole business seems to be a complete mystery.”
“Haven’t they any idea who stole it?” asked Joe.
“No idea at all. The only men around, so far as they know, were the usual airport officials and pilots. Practically all of them are above suspicion. From the looks of the case, I’m inclined to think some outsider may have been hiding nearby, watching his chance, and when he saw the sacks left unguarded he simply seized them and cleared out.”
Frank leaned forward in excitement.
“I think we can help you a little,” he declared. “We may know something about that very robbery.”
“Already?” exclaimed Fenton Hardy, astonished.
Frank and Joe thereupon told their father about their adventure in Beach Grove on the day of the picnic. They told that they had seen Giles Ducroy and his two companions near the old cabin, how they had followed the men and listened to their conversation.
“Ducroy was trying to get these other chaps to go in with him on some crooked deal, and they were afraid because they said it was too dangerous,” explained Frank. “Ducroy told them they’d make ten thousand dollars apiece out of it. Perhaps that was what he meant. He planned to steal some of the mail bags.”
Fenton Hardy was interested.
“Certainly a suspicious conversation,” he admitted. “Still, the mail bags weren’t worth any thirty thousand dollars, if what the post office people tell me is correct. They
