into a back pocket and pulled out a blackjack. He lunged at Frank with the agility of a cat.
âCut it out, Sutton!â barked a voice. The new-comer, a broad-shouldered young man, darted between Frank and his assailant. A boxerâs hand chop sent the blackjack flying to the sand.
Sutton muttered under his breath, clenched his fists, and glared at the tall man. He was young and strong, with a blond crew cut.
âIf youâre looking for trouble, Iâll give it to you,â the big fellow said meaningfully.
Sutton dropped his eyes and turned away. He retrieved his weapon and disappeared behind his shanty.
Relieved, Frank said, âThanks a lot, Mr.ââ
âCall me Alf,â was the friendly reply. âI was wading over there when I saw Sutton go for you. Youâd better stay away from this place. Weâve had a lot of trouble lately.â
âWell, thanks again, Alf,â Frank said warmly as he shook the huge, hard hand. âYou sure saved me a lump on the head. Iâm Frank, and this is my brother Joe.â
The three strolled along the beach. âSo thereâs been trouble in Shantytown lately,â Joe repeated, hoping to learn more from their new acquaintance.
âYes. Sutton and his pals have been the ones making it, too. All they do is fight among themselves. Shantytown wouldnât be such a bad place, otherwise.â
âDo you live here, Alf?â Frank inquired.
âMe?â The man laughed good-naturedly. âNo, but I work on the docks and I know some fellows who work in town occasionally and live here, so I come out a lot on my hours off.â
By now the three had reached the far edge of the colony. âIâve got to see a fellow,â Alf told them. âLook out for Hank Sutton when you go back. If he tries anything, just yell for AlfâAlf Lundborg.â
The young giantâs friendly act and his open face made Frank decide to trust him. âMaybe we can help you sometime, Alf,â he said. âOur name is Hardy, but we donât want anyone in Shantytown to know it.â
âNobodyâll hear it from me,â Lundborg replied. âSay, if youâre going to be around for a while, why donât you eat with my friends and me?â
âWeâd like that,â Frank said. âHowâll we find you?â
Alf reached into his pocket. âJust listen for this,â he replied, opening his hand. In the palm lay a harmonica. âSee you around,â he said and moved off.
When Alf Lundborg had gone up the beach, the brothers retraced their steps. While picking up more stones and shells, they scanned the sand carefully for anything that might belong to their missing chums. This time they took care not to venture too close to Suttonâs shanty.
âThereâs our âfriend,â â Frank said in a low voice.
Stealing a glance toward the hut, Joe saw Sutton standing at one corner, talking earnestly with another man. His companion was listening with obvious impatience. He shifted his weight and suddenly turned full around. The Hardys saw that he was short in build, and had black hair combed straight back.
âThat man!â Joe whispered. âItâsââ
âI know!â Frank took his brotherâs arm and hurried him toward the beach. âItâs the speedboat driver who almost rammed us! Whatâs he doing here?â
CHAPTER VIII
Postcard Puzzle
âKEEP going,â Frank advised Joe. âIf we turn around for another look, that powerboat pilot may recognize us!â
With bent heads, the young detectives shuffled along the beach between the ocean and the first line of squattersâ shacks. If the stranger with the dark, combed-back hair noticed them at all, he saw only two ragged beachcombers wandering back in the direction of Bayport.
âSo, the fellow who rammed us hangs around Shantytown!â Joe burst out.
âYes,â Frank