"But how did you get hurt, Dad?" asked Frank.
Fenton Hardy leaned back on his pillow with a sigh.
"I cracked two of my ribs," he told them. "Tumbled down off a big rock back in the mountains, and now I'm laid up until the ribs mend again. I'm thankful it wasn't a great deal worse."
"We thought perhaps some one had shot you."
"No, it wasn't that bad. I was chasing a fellow at the time, and if it hadn't been for falling off the rock I would have caught him. So my good friend Hank Shale insisted that I come to his cabin until my ribs set again. It isn't very serious, but it will keep me indoors for a while. That's why I sent for you."
"You want us to take up the case where you left off?"
Their father nodded.
"I'll be able to help you considerably, even if I am laid up," he said. "But what delayed you? We expected you here yesterday."
The Hardy boys glanced at one another.
"You must have enemies that knew we were coming, Dad," Frank said. "They tried to sidetrack us in Chicago. We were delayed a whole day there."