Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

The Hardy boys' trim-lined ice-boat bore down on the larger one as they raced along the ice-bound bay. Joe peered ahead and saw the steersman of the other craft turn around and glare at them with an angry sneer.

"That's Ike Nash driving that boat, for sure," Joe shouted to his brother. "The other fellow has got to be Tad Carson!"

Frank nodded, working his tiller as the boat hurtled forward at a terrific speed. "Mark my words, those two bozoes had something to do with that fire back there!"

"It sure looks like it," Callie agreed, holding onto the side of the boat. "Everyone else is going out to the island. They're running away from it. But how did they get a new ice-boat so quickly? Didn't Hanleigh crack up their boat in the blizzard last week?"

She was referring to a Mr. Hanleigh who had been harassing the boys during their holiday on Cabin Island . He had known about the hidden stamp collection and was trying to find it and steal it. Tad Carson and Ike Nash had helped him by driving him out to the island several times in their ice-boat.

The trouble-prone boys had begun to suspect that Hanleigh was up to no good, and so demanded a higher payment to take him out to the island. In an attempt to outsmart them, Hanleigh had stolen their boat one day and set off for Cabin Island alone. A raging blizzard had ensued and he cracked up the ice-boat beyond repair close by the island. The Hardy boys and their chums had heard his cries for help and were able to rescue him from the storm.

"Hanleigh gave the boys the money to buy a new ice-boat," Frank told Callie, "so they wouldn't press charges against him for stealing the other one."

"Right," Frank nodded in agreement. "And in just a couple days they had that swell new one sailing out on the bay, making everyone else green with envy."

Callie smiled. "You and Joe don't look green at all."

Frank hooted. "We wouldn't be jealous of those two morons if they owned the Taj Mahal!"

"You can say that again," uttered Joe. "But it sure jars my noggin that they were helping Hanleigh to bother us at the island, and then they end up the better for it!"

"I'd sure give the shirt off my back to know what they were doing out there right now," Frank added, grimly.

Frank's inquisitive mind, and likewise Joe's, had caused them to become enmeshed in a number of mysteries that had baffled the local authorities. Although still in high school, the boys were anxious to follow in their father's footsteps. Fenton Hardy had been a member of the detective bureau of the New York Police Department for many years. He had won such great distinction that he moved to Bayport to work as a private investigator, often called to take in hand top-secret cases of international nature.

The lads had already proven time and again that they had inherited their father's ability. Most recently they had solved The Mystery of Cabin Island, only the week before, and it looked already, with the smoke rising in the sky behind them and the renegade ice-boat racing ahead, like another mystery was now abrew there.

"You're gaining on them!" cried out Callie, as their craft neared the other. "Just a little more and we'll be alongside them."

By now it was clear that the other boy in the larger ice-boat was indeed Tad Carson. Both he and Ike Nash were casting angry glances at the Hardy boys, and making every effort to elude their pursuit.

Joe began to shout at the other boys. "What were you fellows doing on Cabin Island ? Did you start that fire?"

"Aw, dry up!" threw back Tad Carson, his hands gripping the side of the boat as he turned to look. "Mind your own business, sonny boy!"

Frank's eyes smoldered at them from his position at the tiller. "You know you have no business being on the island. We'll report you to the authorities," he warned. "We'll tell them we saw you leaving the island under suspicious circumstances."

Ike Nash shook his fist at Frank. "Go tell it to the Marines, buster! We're not afraid of you!"

The ice-boats had been racing almost neck and neck but, as the Nash boy shook his fist, his other hand on the tiller jerked sideways and sent the speeding craft into a portside turn. The boat jerked and wobbled, swaying dangerously as the wind filled its sail and further increased its speed.

"Watch out!" Joe cried, as the larger boat sped directly at them.

"They'll hit us!" Callie burst out, ducking down into the boat for protection as best she could.

Joe heard Tad Carson shout out a warning and saw Ike Nash as his eyes bugged round and his mouth dropped open in surprise and fear. With its packed full sail swooshing the boat on, a collision appeared to be inevitable.

Frantic, Frank bore down on the tiller to spin away from the oncoming craft. The big sail thwoomped and thwacked as the wind pushed and pulled it. Joe hunkered down and pulled Callie with him so that the boom would not hit them as it swung about.

But the trim little craft did turn, and not a moment too soon. The bigger boat sped broadside it, one runner airborne as Ike Nash struggled to turn the boat starboard. The two boats banged together at the gunwales and Callie screamed. Joe looked up to see the airborne runner of the larger craft ready to smack their mast.

"Frank! The mast! Watch out!"

But Frank had already seen it and, with great effort, he retained his coolness and presence of mind. Using the impact of the boats to his advantage, for the force of the bigger boat scudded them sideways, his quick hand on the tiller spun them away with barely an inch of space between the flying runner of the other boat and the mast of his boat.

He had to hold onto the gunwale for dear life and he didn't see the other boat as it veered over until the sail was almost level with the ice and Tad Carson fell out, almost to be hit by the low-swinging mast.

It took Frank a full thirty seconds to get his boat under control, and he slowed the craft down to almost a halt as Joe and Callie rose up to see what was happening.

What they saw was the other ice-boat still zigzagging down the shoreline out of control, its sail being tossed by the wind. Tad Carson had risen from the ice and was shaking both his fists at them.

"I'll get you for this, you Hardys!" he threatened, in an ugly humor. "You can't just go around accusing people of crimes. If you make any more trouble for us, you'll really have it coming to you, I'll say!"

Joe leered at him. "Oh yeah? Just what is it that you think you're going to do?"

Callie had to put her two cents in. "You're a big bag of wind, Tad Carson. Everyone knows it, and absolutely no one is afraid of you."

"She's right," Frank laughed. He pointed to the other ice-boat which was now finally coming to a halt some distance away. "You'd better forget about your threats and go teach your clumsy chum how to sail that boat!"

"And you haven't heard the last from us yet," Joe pounded home. "We'll find out who set that fire on Cabin Island . And if you and Ike are involved in it, you'd better start saying your prayers!"

Tad Carson glared at them for a moment. Then, with a dismissive wave of his hand at the Hardy boys and Callie, he spun around and began trudging across the frozen bay to his ice-boat.

"He's nothing but a big bully," Callie declared, scowling. "And so is Ike Nash. Bayport would surely be a better place without them."

Frank grinned at her proudly. "It looks like you'd be willing to duke it out with them yourself."

Callie raised her clenched fists in a pugilistic pose. "I'll knock 'em both out," she drawled, "and then clean up the floor with 'em!"

"And I believe you can do it," Joe hastened to say, a big smile splitting his face. "Their bark is way bigger than their bite!"

"And our suspicions about their behavior are even bigger yet," Frank declared. "Let's go back to Cabin Island and see if we can find any clues as to who started that fire."

In a short time the trio were once again approaching the southern tip of the island. The sky was dark from the smoke that was still pouring up from the burning log cabin. About twenty ice-boats had congregated near the shore and their passengers were watching the debacle above. Frank pulled up close to Biff's boat, and their chums plied them with questions.

"What happened? Was that Tad and Ike you were chasing?"

"Did you get those two bird-brains?"

"What were they doing on the island? Did they tell you?"

Frank gave them a quick run-down of what had occurred, and also their suspicions that the ne'er-do-well boys might have had something to do with the fire.

"Well, they probably did!" Biff said, firmly.

"Those boys are just a nuisance," Iola put in. "If they were near the island, then you can be sure they were involved somehow."

Chet grunted. "I'd like to give them a piece of my mind. And my fists, too!"

"What a lot of bad luck," Joe groaned, gazing up at the fire. "Last week that big old tree fell on the cabin to wreck it, and today a fire has burned it down!"

"At least we found Mr. Jefferson's stamp collection before the fire could destroy it," Frank pointed out.

Callie shook her head in dismay. "It looks like the cabin is a total loss."

"Mr. Jefferson will have to rebuild it," Joe remarked. "Or maybe now he'll sell the property. It ought to fetch a good price on the real estate market."

"It's the perfect location for an expensive vacation home," Iola mused. "Or even a lodge. New Yorkers would love coming here for relaxation and boating and fishing."

Frank gave her a curious look. "That's an interesting idea. We'll have to visit Mr. Jefferson and ask if he's had any recent offers to buy the island."

"Hanleigh wanted to buy it," Joe reminded him.

"That was only because he knew the stamp collection was hidden there. He'd have no use for it now."

"But someone else might," Joe suggested. "I think we should go ashore and look for clues."

It was decided that Biff, Chet, and Iola would go back to Bayport to inform the police and Elroy Jefferson about the fire. Frank, Joe, and Callie would go onto the island to do some sleuthing. Joe readied the sail and, moments later, the wind filled it and the craft sped along the glassy surface away from their chums and the other ice-boats. They tacked toward the far side of the island past countless little coves and inlets, and rugged rocky promontories.

Joe shouted, "There's the boathouse. Let's pull in there."

Frank nodded, guiding the boat around a wooded arm of land that sheltered the cove where the boathouse belonging to the old cabin was located. He pulled up to the small dock by the little building.

"Such a pretty place," Callie commented, gazing at the wooded island. "Like a winter wonderland!"

All the tree limbs, and even the tiniest branches, were laden with snow. Some were so heavy with their burdens that they bowed down almost to the ground. Last week's blizzard had dumped over a foot of snow in the Bayport area.

The trio alighted from the boat and anchored it to the dock. A sloping hillside loomed before them with a narrow path winding up through the trees. The snow was trampled and a multitude of footprints filled the trail.

"Somebody sure was here," Joe muttered, taking the lead and advancing up the slope.

Callie and Frank followed. When they reached the top of the embankment the trees thinned out a little and the burning cabin could be seen ahead. Sparks flew in the air and the acrid smell of smoke was everywhere. All three of them started to cough.

Callie wrapped her scarf around her face, covering her mouth. "This is awful. Do you think the woods will catch on fire?"

Frank shook his head. "I hope not. The trees are pretty well blanketed with snow. Let's see how close we can get to the cabin."

The three young people moved on, trudging through the snow and avoiding as best they could the shower of sparks. The trees thinned out more and more until they reached the clearing in which the old cabin stood on its perch overlooking Barmet Bay .

The flames were dying down and all that could be seen of the cabin remains were the old damaged fireplace and piles of burning logs where the walls had fallen down.

Suddenly, a strange cry seemed to arise from nowhere, sounding like a terrified human wail. Shocked, the Hardy boys and Callie just stood there, looking around anxiously for the source of the frightening sound.

"What is it?" Callie gasped.

"Sounds like a child," Joe suggested.

"Yes, it does," Frank agreed. "But what would a child be doing here on Cabin Island by this fire?"

No sooner had Frank voiced the question when, to their complete astonishment, a little boy ran out from a thick stand of pines not far from them. He was dressed in a red and black checked woolen coat, matching leggings and cap, and he was covered from head to toe with soot.

He ran toward the boys and Callie, his arms outstretched and crying:

"Help me! Help me! I lost my daddy and I don't know what to do!"

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.