"Lucky Bottom! Lucky Bottom!"
CHAPTER XI
Fenton Hardy's Story
Lucky Bottom was a particularly desolate place in the winter time. It was not especially prepossessing at any season, but when the cold winds blew down from the rocky mountainsides and when snow drifted deep in the narrow street Lucky Bottom seemed like a deserted village. It had once been a prosperous mining camp, but one by one the mines had been worked out until now there was but one left. A few prospectors made the village their headquarters still, hanging on in the vain hope of some day making a lucky strike that would restore the town to its former grandeur, but the general impression prevailed that Lucky Bottom's days were numbered.
There were a few gaunt, hard-bitten individuals on the station platform when the Hardy boys got off the train. They were the only passengers that day and evidently it was unusual for any one to alight at Lucky Bottom, because the loungers stared at them as if they were beings from another world.
"Can you tell me where Hank Shale's cabin is?" asked Frank of one of the men leaning against the station.
The native shifted his chew of tobacco, spat into the snow, and reflected.
"Straight down Main Street," he said. "Then you start climbin' the hill. When you get to the top of the hill you'll find Hank's place. You can see it from here."
He conducted them to the end of the platform and pointed to the top of a hill back of the collection of shacks comprising the town. The boys could see a small log cabin, almost hidden by trees and almost buried in the snow. The distance was not great, so Frank and Joe, after thanking the man who had directed them, started off toward the cabin.