The Hooded Hawk Mystery Part 2

At Aunt Gertrude's insistence, Frank and Joe took the falcon to the garage, where they set up the block perch and put her on it, unhooded. They fed her some parrot seed, set the burglar alarm, and locked the door.

Fenton Hardy arrived a few minutes later. He was a tall, dark, distinguished-looking man of forty-five. His sons loved his keen sense of humor and admired his brilliant mind and thorough methods. Mr. Hardy's preoccupied manner as the family sat down to dinner could mean only one thing. He was busy on an important case of his own. Sensing his sons'

curiosity, he said finally: 22 "I've been asked to help on an interesting problem which has the authorities baffled.

Immigration officials have learned of the large-scale smuggling of aliens from India into the United States somewhere along the Atlantic seaboard. One suspected spot is Bayport."

"Bayport!" Frank repeated in astonishment, adding, "Any other clues?"

"None. But maybe you boys can find some," Mr. Hardy replied with a twinkle in his eye.

"I'm working on another case right now that I'll have to finish before I can concentrate on this smuggling racket."

"In other words, Dad, you're asking Joe and me to start from scratch. No leads or anything?"

"You know I wouldn't do that, son," Fenton Hardy replied, smiling. "I have two possible leads.

"A few days ago, while I was in Was.h.i.+ngton, I called on an old friend of mine-an Indian importer. I talked with him about the illegal entry of aliens from his country and told him I was going to ask you boys to work on the case. He naturally frowns on anything that will reflect on his country's good reputation, and has offered to a.s.sist in every way he ;an."

"Did he give you any leads?" Frank asked.

"No, but I mentioned to him that there must be some means of communication between the smugglers and their confederates on sh.o.r.e. We eliminated radio or telegraph because they could be monitored. But I thought that secret messages, instructing the 25 contact here to pick up the smuggled men, might be sent by carrier pigeons from the s.h.i.+ps offsh.o.r.e to the racketeers' hide-out on land. Ghapur agreed with me."

"Ghapur!" Joe burst out. "Dad, is your Indian friend's name Rahmud Rahmud Ghapur?" Ghapur?"

"Why, yes, son," Mr. Hardy answered in surprise. "How did you know?"

The boys told their astonished father about the falcon from Ghapur, the attempted theft of the bird, and the ruby-bearing carrier pigeon which the peregrine had downed.

"That's very interesting," Mr. Hardy said. "A call to Ghapur will certainly throw some light on the matter. I'll try to reach him at once."

Fortunately, the importer was at home. The detective talked with him for some time, then returned to the table just as dessert was being served.

"Mr. Ghapur says he sent the falcon to aid you boys in bringing down pigeons you might be suspicious of. He sent you a letter of explanation. You say it didn't arrive?"

"No," Frank replied, adding thoughtfully, "The letter could have been intercepted by the smugglers if they suspected what the falcon was to be used for."

"True," Mr. Hardy declared. "And it could have been waylaid in Was.h.i.+ngton, or anywhere between there and Bayport. In Ghapur's letter he asked you boys to get in touch with a fellow countryman of his who lives here in Bayport. He's Ahmed, the rug 24 dealer. You know him. He'll teach you how to handle the falcon properly."

This statement caused Aunt Gertrude to speak up sharply, deploring the fact that the boys were getting mixed up in such a cruel sport.

"Auntie," said Frank, "it's in the line of duty. And anyway, wild hawks eat ten times as many pigeons and other birds a year than we'd let a trained falcon like Miss Peregrine go after."

"Well, maybe so," his aunt conceded, "but that hawk may turn on you any minute, as she did on me."

Aunt Gertrude then gave her brother a colorful account of her adventure with the falcon.

Mr. Hardy agreed that it was unfortunate she had had such a scare, but he was sure that it would not occur again.

"Humph!" Aunt Gertrude was unconvinced, and was about to continue her tirade when Mrs. Hardy arose and started clearing the table. Her husband and sons got up too and went to the garage to see the falcon. After examining her trappings, Mr. Hardy said with a smile: "It will be rather unique to solve a mystery with a hooded hawk."

"Yes," agreed Frank. "Dad, do you think there might be a tie-in between the smugglers of aliens and the rubies?"

"Yes, I do," Mr. Hardy replied. "And I have a hunch we'll find that carrier pigeons are the link between our two mysteries."

25 They talked for a while longer, then Fenton Hardy concluded with, "Well, boys, it will have to be your job for the time being to solve these mysteries. I must get back on my other case. From time to time I'll be in touch with you, though."

"You're leaving?" Joe asked.

"Yes. I'm flying back to Was.h.i.+ngton. Will you drive me to the airport?"

"Certainly, Dad."

After the boys had said good-by to Mr. Hardy at the airport, Joe said to his brother, "Let's phone Ahmed. It's not too late, and I'd like to find out how to use the hawk correctly, so that we can get to work."

"Good idea," replied Frank. "We should know more about properly training and flying the bird. We were just lucky this afternoon."

He put through a call to the elderly rug merchant. After identifying himself, Frank told him about the message from Rahmud Ghapur.

Though surprised at the request, Ahmed gladly consented to teach the Hardys how to handle the falcon. He said that they must first obtain permission from the State Fish and Game Department to fly the hawk. It was agreed that the boys would do this the next morning, then the three would drive out to the country.

"The Morton farm's the place," Frank suggested.

At the Bayport office of the Fish and Game Department the next day, the clerk looked quizzical 26 when the boys made their request. When they explained it was in connection with a case of their father's, he gave each of them special hunting permits.

With their falcon and its equipment, the brothers drove to Ahmed's place of business.

The rug dealer was standing in the doorway, waiting for them. Ahmed was a man close to sixty years old, but straight as a spear and lithe in his movements. His eyes had sparkle and life to them that demanded attention. The movements of his long, sinewy fingers had an almost hypnotic quality.

When the elderly man was seated in the car, he immediately turned his attention to the hawk. Putting on the gauntlet, Ahmed wristed the bird. As he stroked it, he remarked: "This hawk is well trained. As a fledgling she was probably lured into a net, then hooded, and carried constantly on the glove for days and nights until she lost her fear of man and became tame. This is called 'manning.'

"The trainer strokes her, talks gently to her, and feeds her. In this way, the falcon becomes completely dependent on her master and learns that he intends no harm.

Gradually she is made hungry or 'keen' and thus learns to respond to the falconer. At first she jumps a short distance to the glove for food. Gradually the distance is increased until she is flying several hundred yards on a string. Finally she can be flown free."

27 "Then she's actually trained through her appet.i.te?" Frank asked.

"Yes," Ahmed replied. "And a young bird's instincts are channeled so that she performs in a natural way for her trainer. She is never taught to do anything that she would not normally do in the wild."

"Will she bring her quarry back to her master?" asked Joe.

"No," Ahmed replied. "She goes to the ground with her kill, then the falconer hurries to his bird. The hawk does not come to him. However, if the bird misses her quarry, she will return to the lure to be fed."

"It's a complicated sport," Frank remarked. "And I can see why it requires lots of time and patience."

"Well, one thing we do know," Joe spoke up. "Pigeons are a hawk's favorite food." He grinned. "But we didn't have a squab in our refrigerator, so for breakfast I gave her raw oatmeal and parrot seed!"

Ahmed smiled. "You'll have to feed her starlings, sparrows, mice, and lean beef. It's obvious that she is used to people and normal sounds, since neither of these bother her."

When they arrived at the Morton farm, lola informed them that Chet had gone to market with a load of sweet corn. She promised to tell Chet where they were as soon as he came in.

The visitors strolled to one of the large open fields and Ahmed began his instruction. He sug28 gested that Frank undertake flying the hawk first. Compared to Ahmed's dexterity, the boy felt very clumsy in putting on and taking off the jesses and the hood. He also felt that due to his inexperience the hawk must be tiring from the procedure.

"Let's give the poor bird a rest," he suggested. "In the meantime, I'd like to learn more about the history of falconry."

Ahmed agreed, and holding the falcon, he walked around the field with the Hardys. As they strolled along, the rug dealer told them about the short-winged hawks that are flown from the fist at such quarry as game birds and rabbits.

"These birds," Ahmed said, "such as the goshawk, the sharp-s.h.i.+nned hawk, and the Cooper's hawk are the best ones for a beginner to practice on.

"In my country, and in your country too, the peregrine falcon is considered the prize bird and only experienced falconers capture and train them. It is an unwritten law that novice falconers start on the less n.o.ble birds and by experience earn the right to train the bird of kings and maharajahs."

"Someday we'll train our own birds," said Joe. "We're fortunate to start off with a trained one."

"Indeed you are," replied Ahmed.

As the three walked back across the field, the elderly Indian gave the boys additional pointers on the care of their falcon, advising them to keep the bird with them at all times, so that she would recognize them as her masters.

29 "Remember," he said, "to put water out for her bath, to keep her in the shade, and to place her perch where she can't get tangled up. Above all," he cautioned, "be kind and gentle to her and she will reciprocate. Always bear in mind that she puts great trust in you; don't fail her."

Frank and Joe were about to a.s.sure him that they would certainly do their best to take proper care of their falcon when they heard a loud yell.

"Hey, fellows!" It was Chet, standing at the edge of the field and waving at them. "Quick!

I've got news!"

"Good or bad?" Joe shouted back, as he and Frank started running toward their friend.

"Don't know-but you'll find out at police headquarters!"

CHAPTER IV.

A Suspicious Sailor.

frank and Joe sprinted across the field to where Chet was waiting for them.

"What's this news from police headquarters?" Joe demanded excitedly.

"All I know," said the stout boy, "is the department called and said you should report there p.r.o.nto. It's real urgent!"

The same thoughts flashed through the brothers' minds-was it news of the rubies or of Joe's masked a.s.sailant?

"Okay, we're on our way," said Joe, as Ahmed caught up to them, the falcon still poised on his wrist.

The trio hurried to the convertible and drove to Bayport. After leaving Ahmed at his shop, the boys went at once to police headquarters. Frank remained in the car with the falcon while Joe hurried inside.

A Suspicious Sailor 31 To his surprise, Officer Sm.u.f.f was waiting for him, a proud grin on his red face.

"You have some news for us?" Joe asked.

"News! I'll say! I've caught your hawk thief!"

"What!" Joe stared at the patrolman incredulously.

Sm.u.f.f strutted to the door at the back of the room. "Here-look for yourself!"

Joe walked over, feeling chagrined that Sm.u.f.f had made the capture before Frank and he had picked up even a single clue to the thief's ident.i.ty. The patrolman led the boy into a small room.

"There's your man!" he announced, waving his hand toward a sun-tanned figure slouched on a bench. Around his neck was a red-and-white bandanna, and he wore a battered felt hat. Sm.u.f.f said elatedly, "I caught this fellow lurking around your house."

Suddenly the prisoner jumped up. "Meester Joe, you-a come to save-a me?"

Sm.u.f.f blinked at the boy. "You know this man?"

"He's our gardener, Sm.u.f.f!" Joe exclaimed. "Nicolo, I'm sorry about this mistake."

"I go now? I no thief, I tell this policeman. He play bad joke on poor Nicolo."

The patrolman, red-faced, murmured an apology and released the gardener at once.

Then he accompanied Joe outside. "Well, no luck this time."

"Never mind," Joe said with a grin. "And don't hesitate to call us if you need help," he teased.

32 Policeman Sm.u.f.f eyed him suspiciously, trying to decide whether Joe was serious or merely joking. When Frank heard the story, he laughed heartily.

Since it was nearly lunchtime, the boys went directly home. As Joe carried the falcon toward the back door, Mrs. Hardy appeared and asked that, for Aunt Gertrude's sake, the falcon be kept out of the house.

"But Ahmed says it's best to keep the hawk with us at all times," Joe spoke up. "That's the way they get used to their masters."

Aunt Gertrude, overhearing, called from the kitchen, "I certainly don't want her to get used to me. me. One attack was enough." One attack was enough."

Frank merely grinned and took the falcon to its perch in the garage, set the burglar alarm, and locked the door. When he sat down at the luncheon table, his aunt remarked: "So you think you should keep that hawk with you all the time? Ridiculous! You wouldn't sleep with it, would you?" She chuckled. "And I'm sure you wouldn't take a shower bath with it!"

This remark brought a roar of laughter from the others, then the subject of falcons was dropped for the time being. As soon as the meal was over, Joe, with a mischievous expression on his face, headed for his father's study. A few minutes later he returned to the first floor, carrying a volume of the encyclopedia with him.

"I don't suppose it would do any real harm to take 33 the hawk into the shower with me, Auntie," he told Miss Hardy. "It says here, 'Most hawks, peregrines especially, require a bath. The end of a cask, sawed off to give a depth of six inches, makes a good bathtub. Peregrines which are used to "waiting on" require a bath at least twice a week.' "

"Waiting on? You certainly do have to wait on them!" Aunt Gertrude retorted.

Frank and Joe exchanged grins, then told their aunt what the term meant.

Frank read on from the book in Joe's hands. " 'If the bath is neglected, the falcon is inclined to soar when flown, and may even break away in search of water, and so be lost.'