"Joe!" shouted Frank Hardy, as he and the others continued to search the woods for the lost sleuth. Almost thirty-five minutes had passed and they still hadn’t found a trace. "I don’t like this!" He glanced at Chet Morton. "He could be anywhere, and anything could have happened to him."

Just as the plump youth was about to reply, he happened to glance past Frank towards a dark figure that was rapidly sneaking up on the two of them. Chet immediately gave the other boy a look that could mean only one thing. There was danger afoot!

Joe, who had just happened to wonder up in time to hear the conversation between the two youths, was planning to sneak up on his brother and scare him.

"You’ve just got to believe that he’s all right, Frank." Chet continued in a mock seriousness, as he suddenly recognized the face of the intruder.

"You’re right," Frank replied with a slight grin as he too caught on. "Joe’s probably fine."

"Just look on the bright side!" Chet began to speak in a loud tone. "It’s probably for the best. Now you’ll finally get to have your own bedroom!"

"What?" Frank shouted in a state of mock shock. "How can you even say that? I don’t think…" He cut his sentence short as he heard the dark figure moving in closer. Staring directly at the plump youth he continued, "You know, now that you mention it…" he grinned even wider than before. "You’re right! I’ll have the bedroom, the car and the boat all to myself. As for his motorcycle, I can sell that for parts. It won’t be so bad if he doesn’t come back, so let’s just give up the search and go back to camp." He slapped Chet on the back as he said, "You know, he never was that much of a help when it came to solving mysteries anyway."

Suddenly, Joe, whose practical joke had backfired on him, became outraged. "Not much of a help!" he blurted out. "Sell my bike and take over my side of the room will you?" He stormed up to the older Hardy. "I’ll have you know that if it wasn’t for me…" Joe stopped abruptly as he noticed how hard Frank and Chet were laughing. Then he managed a slight grin as he said, "You knew I was there the whole time, didn‘t you?"

Frank stopped laughing long enough to say, "Not the whole time. But Chet did, and I could tell by the way he was acting."

The oldest Hardy then turned and led the way back to camp, where they found the other two boys waiting for them.

"Any luck?" Biff asked, as he spotted Frank and Chet walking up.

"We didn’t have much luck," replied the plump youth, whose round moon face was grinning from ear to ear. "Because we found him!" As he said this, Joe stepped up into view.

After lighting a campfire, the boys all exchanged the details of their experiences that day.

"And the only clue that we could find was this single piece of paper," Frank remarked as he held up the strange note with the handwritten words: "the thirty year porch".

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Joe Hardy. "What could it mean?"

"It’s definitely a mystery!" responded Frank.

"It certainly is, but I’ve got a more important mystery!" Chet spoke up in a loud, clear voice. "What are we going to do about something to eat?"

"You’re right, that is a mystery!" Joe grinned as he turned on his heel and trotted over to the site of the wrecked jeep. "We could forage for berries. We could dig for grub worms. We could try eating tree bark. But I’m all for eating the sandwiches that I bought while I was in town." As he said this, he took off at a full run, with the others not far behind.

The next day, after rejoining the two Hardy ladies in town for lunch in the hotel dinning room, Frank related the events of the previous evening. However, he did choose to leave out the part concerning Biff’s right cross to his jaw.

"Gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Hardy.

"It’s wonder you weren’t all done in!" Miss Gertrude Hardy exploded. "I knew you were going to run into danger when I was first told about this trip. But would anyone listen to me? No!"

As Aunt Gertrude continued raving, the waitress walked up and asked, "Madam, would you like…" She had to cut her sentence short because Miss Hardy kept right on talking, overriding the young woman.

"If you ask me, and mind you, no one ever does, you boys would be a lot better off if you would just listen to me!"

"Madam," the waitress tried again.

"I tell you not to go around getting hit on the head, but do you listen?" the oldest Hardy continued. "No! You never listen!"

"Madam!" The waitress spoke a little louder.

"I’ll tell the world that young people just don’t listen!" She ignored the waitress once again. "You’ll never catch a person from my generation not paying attention and heeding to words of wisdom."

"Madam!" The waitress tried one more time to get the attention of Miss Gertrude Hardy.

"If you ask me, that’s the whole problem. Your generation should be more like mine. You should be more attentive and willing to listen when other people speak." As she said this, the waitress finally gave up and turned to walk away. Aunt Gertrude glanced towards the girl. "Just a minute!" she shouted. "Young woman, can’t you see that we’re ready for you to clear our dishes out of the way?"

"But, Madam, I tried to…" She started stammering over her own words as she said, "I mean, I’ve been standing here for five minutes, and…"

"Standing there!" Aunt Gertrude huffed. "If you were standing there then why didn’t you say something?"

"But, Madam, I tried…" she replied.

"Yes?" Miss Hardy interrupted the young woman, yet again. "You tried to what? You have got to speak up!"

"Yes, Ma’am," she replied.

"Now clear our table and bring our coffee!" Gertrude Hardy ordered.

"Yes, Ma’am," the waitress replied as she hurried off to complete her task.

"That poor girl!" Mrs. Hardy thought to herself. "We’ll have to leave her a generous tip to make up for the way she was treated." All of the others at the table also came to this same decision.

"We still need to find out what the ‘thirty year porch’ is," Frank stated after the coffee had been served.

"The Thirty Year Porch!" came a voice from directly behind them. "Did someone mention The Thirty Year Porch?"

They all turned and spotted a rather large, burly man, dressed in western attire. "Why, Miss Gertrude Hardy!" he exclaimed. "Is that really you?"

Miss Hardy smiled as she replied, "Yes, Mr. Butcher, it’s me."

"Do you know each other?" asked Joe, in a shocked tone.

"Do we know each other?" The man leaned back and let out an uproarious laugh. "Many, many years ago, this lady and myself worked together on my uncle’s ranch."

"It was only for one summer," Miss Hardy replied with a look of embarrassment. "I was very young and foolish!"

"You worked on a ranch, but you don’t like horses," Frank grinned. "You never have!"

"Not like horses?" the man laughed. "She was the best rider at the ranch!"

"That’s very interesting." Mrs. Hardy suddenly began to realize just how Miss Gertrude Hardy had been able to ride so well. After introducing herself, she asked the man to continue with his story.

"Mildred!" Gertrude blurted out, even more embarrassed than before. "I’m sure that Mr. Butcher has more important things to do than stand here and discuss ancient history."

"Mildred? I thought you said your name was Laura?" The ranchman looked confused for a moment. "But anyway, I don’t mind talking about it. Why, I remember one time when the fence was knocked down and all of the cattle had gotten loose. This modest woman right here rounded up everyone of the thousand head of cattle, and brought them in all by herself." He continued with a big grin, "On top of that, there was a big storm with lots of thunder, lighting, and a great big wind!"

"Big wind indeed! And it just so happens that there’s another big wind in here!" Aunt Gertrude huffed. "Mr. Butcher, you know very well that there weren’t over fifty heads of cattle loose that day. As far as being alone, there were three other ranch hands with me. And as for the storm, it was barely drizzling!"

"Ok." Mr. Butcher winked at the others as he said, "If that’s the way you remember it, Miss Hardy."

Glancing around the table, the ranchman said, "I’ve already been introduced to your lovely daughter, but who are your other friends? Are they your grandchildren, Gertrude?"

"To start with, this is my sister-in-law!" She looked at Mrs. Hardy who was seated next to her. "And those boys are not my grandchildren." Glancing across the table, she stated, "Those two are her children. Their names are Frank and Joe Hardy." Then she pointed at the others. "Those are their friends; Jerry Gilroy, Chet Morton and Biff Hooper."

"That’s nice," the man replied, as he pulled up a seat next to their table. "Are you all here on a vacation?"

"Sort of," replied Frank.

"Are you going to be staying at The Thirty Year Porch?" he asked.

Frank and Joe immediately exchanged knowing glances. "You know about the thirty year porch?" Joe questioned.

"I sure do!" he replied. "I stay there on a pretty regular basis."

"What is it?" inquired Frank.

"Don’t you know?" the ranchman asked, surprised. "It’s only the best lodge around these parts! Why, they even have live entertainment in the dining room."

"Where is it?" asked Joe, optimistically.

"Why, I’ll just show you," he replied, as he reached into his vest pocket. "I just happen to have a map with me. It’s right there." He pointed to a location that was on the opposite side of the mountain from the Hardys’ campsite.

"That’s it!" Joe blurted out. "That’s where they were going!"

"Who was going where?" Mr. Butcher was a bit taken back by Joe’s sudden attitude of excitement. "Now hold on there little buddy, you’re getting ahead of me. What’s going on here?"

Frank laughed as he shook his head as impulsive brother. "It’s like this, Mr. Butcher…" He once again gave a recap of the previous events.

"You plan to go up there and trap that varmint Black Jack Pepper?" Mr. Butcher asked after everything had been explained to him. "That’s a pretty tall order, partner. Just how do you expect to do this?"

"To start with, we just need to go up there and investigate," replied Frank. "But we need to be able to do that without arousing any suspicions, so we’ll need to get a couple of rooms."

"Well, I just happen to know that they’re all full up," replied Mr. Butcher. "There’s not an empty room in the whole place."

At first, the boys looked downtrodden, then Frank smiled. "Mr. Butcher, how well do you know the owners of this lodge?"

"I know them pretty well. Why?" He raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"Because, I’ve got a plan!" Frank grinned.

Frank’s plan was that Mr. Butcher would arrange to get them all, even the two Hardy ladies, jobs at the lodge. "We’ll have to arrive there separately," he explained. "Chet will take Joe and me in his jalopy. Mom and Aunt Gertrude can go up in our car, while Biff and Jerry take the bus."

After all of the arrangements had been made, Frank, Joe and Chet started out just as soon as the repair crew finished making the only road out of town drivable. Later that afternoon, Chet’s jalopy pulled up in front of an old, stately manor with the name "The Thirty Year Porch" written on a large sign over the front entrance. It was a very charming place, with over fifty tastefully decorated rooms.

"This must be the place!" Joe remarked as they began to climb the stairs leading to the front porch. "The Thirty Year Porch," he read the sign aloud.

"That’s right, this is The Thirty Year Porch," an old woman, who was seated in an old rocking chair by the front door, spoke up. "Ain’t that right, Pa?" She grinned at her husband next to her.

"You said it, Ma!" he laughed.

"Is this your inn?" asked Frank. "The Thirty Year Porch?"

"It certainly is," the old man laughed as he looked strangely at the boys. "There’s a funny story as to how we came by that name. This used to be our house, and Mother here," he paused to glance at his wife, "had been after me for years to build her a front porch. Well, one day I just up and did it!"

"Thirty years later," the old woman laughed.

"Now, Ma." the old man defended himself. "I told you before that you can’t go rushing into things. You’ve got to sit down and study on it, think it out."

"That’s right, Pa," she laughed. "And you can’t help it if you’re a slow thinker."

The old man turned and looked more seriously at the Bayport trio. "I’m sorry boys, but we don’t have any rooms available."

"We’re not here for a room," Frank spoke up. "We’re here for a job. I’m Frank Stevenson and these are my cousins, Joe and Chet." He blurted out the first false name that came to his head.

"Oh yeah," the old man replied. "Butcher told us about you. We were expecting you. As a matter of fact, he said that he was sending us a whole passel of help. He said there would be two more boys around your age, a woman to do the cooking and her mother."

The last one mentioned was Aunt Gertrude. It took Frank and Joe quite a while to convince her to play that part, and needless to say, she wasn’t very pleased about it.

The young sleuths acted extremely nonchalant about the matter. "Really? We don’t know anything about any others. We just want jobs."

"All right," the old man replied. "You’ve got them. Take your things around back to the bunk house and report back to me in one hour."

After taking their bags around to the old slat house, they decided to give the inn the once over.

"Mother and Aunt Gertrude should be here by tonight," remarked Frank. "And Biff and Jerry should be here by late tomorrow."

"Where should we start first?" asked Joe, as he fixed his eyes upon the old country cottage.

"The kitchen!" exclaimed Chet. "Where else?"

Joe laughed as he replied, "You always say the kitchen."

"Can you think of a better place to be?" chuckled Chet.

The boys didn’t get to look around very much before it was time to meet the owner of The Thirty Year Porch again.

"You’ll empty the trash cans," he pointed to Joe. "You’ll clean up the tables in the dinning room," he pointed to Frank. "And you’ll both wash dishes." He then started to walk away.

"Sir, didn’t you forget somebody?" Joe glanced at Chet. "Don’t you have some sort of low, demeaning chore for him?"

"Are you kidding?" the man laughed. "I can’t expect him to do menial things like that. Butcher told me that Chet Morton is an entertainer; that he’s one of the best standup comics around. He’ll be performing tonight!" He then turned and walked off.

Frank and Joe each gave the plump lad a suspicious glance.

"I can’t help it if the man knew talent when he saw it, can I?" he grinned.

"I knew we shouldn’t have let him go alone with Mr. Butcher when he arranged for our jobs," Joe exchanged a knowing glance with his brother.

As Frank turned to walk into the inn, he accidentally bumped into a large man with a fiendish look on his face.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t see you," he apologized.

"Watch where you’re going, kid!" the man shouted, as he gave Frank a hard shove.

"Hey!" Joe shouted. "Who do you think you’re shoving?"

"Some know-it-all city dude!" he retorted. "Would you like the same?"

"Just try it!" Joe replied, as Chet stepped up beside him and said, "Yeah, mister, just try it!"

"All right, I’ll take all three of you on!" the man roared. "Now get ready for a beating!"

"Garth!" the owner of the inn shouted as he came walking back up. "Leave those boys alone!"

"But… I didn’t mean anything," he chuckled. "We were just playing, weren’t we boys?" He glanced at the Bayport trio.

"I saw the whole thing!" the owner replied. "Don’t try to cover up. You’re a troublemaker, Garth. One more incident like this and you’re fired!"

"Yes, sir!" Garth grinned, as the old man walked away. He then glanced at Frank. "I’m letting this go, but don’t get in my way again!" Turning on his heel, he stormed off.

"Pleasant sort of chap, wasn’t he?" Chet grinned.

"I didn’t want to make any enemies," groaned Frank. "He could really hinder our investigation."

"Now what?" Joe asked after a few moments of silence.

"I guess we should start to work," replied Frank. "I’d imagine that we’ll have to do most of our sleuthing after everyone else goes to bed."

Chet glanced over and spotted a hammock tied between two oak trees. "Yeah, I guess I’d better get to work myself." As he said this, he walked over and stretched out in the swinging bed.

"That’s work?" Joe widened his eyes.

"I’ve got to think over my comedy routine for the night," replied Chet, in defense of himself. As this was said, Frank and Joe walked away and started on their jobs. Soon afterwards, their fat friend was fast asleep.

The rest of the day went by with out any further incidents taking place. Frank and Joe washed more dishes, took out more trash and cleaned more tables than they had ever done in their whole lives.

When the time came for Chet’s performance, the dinning room was packed. Men, women and children of all ages filled the place. As Chet started climbing the stairs to the stage, he accidentally tripped and fell into the audience. Everyone thought that it was part of the act, so they all howled with laughter. As soon as the young comedian had regained his posture, he returned to the stage.

"Hello, everyone!" he greeted the audience. "My name is Chet Mor…" He caught himself just in time before he blew their cover. "My name is Stevenson, Chet Stevenson."

About this time, Frank and Joe, who had been in the kitchen, came walking into the dinning room. "I hope that Chet doesn’t lay an egg up there," Joe grinned. "Because if he does, we’ll have to clean it up."

"And," added Frank. "Everyone here thinks that he’s our cousin."

"Is everyone out there enjoying their dinner?" asked Chet. "I hope you are. I know how much trouble went into preparing it… after we wrestled it away from the cats, that is." At this was said, the receptive audience howled with laughter.

"I came up here with my cousins, Frank and Joe Stevenson." He pointed to the Hardy boys. "We came up here in my jalopy. Joe complained about it most of the way. He said, ‘Chet, why don’t you trade this car in on a newer model?’ I said, ‘Why? What’s wrong with my car?’ Joe said, ‘Well, to start with, you can’t even get the top to go up half the time. Usually when it’s raining. And when it’s not that, Frank and I are having to push it, usually up hill.’ I said ‘That’s why I won’t trade it. A gem like this! When it rains we’ve got a Jacuzzi, and think of all the gas I save while you’re pushing.’" Again, the audience howled with laughter.

"He’s not as bad as we thought he would be," Frank glanced at his brother.

"You’re right," agreed Joe. "I wish we could stay and watch the rest of the act, but we’re wanted in the kitchen." As he said this, they turned and started back in.

On the way back, Frank accidentally bumped into a table, knocking a dinner plate into a man’s lap. "I’m sorry, I didn’t…" Frank stopped short.

"It’s the city dude!" growled Garth.

"Not you!" moaned Frank.

"Yeah, it’s me!" replied Garth, as he grabbed Frank around the shirt collar. "I’m going to take you outside and teach you a lesson!"

"You’ll have to teach us both a lesson!" Joe jumped between them.