In spite of Joe Hardy’s predictions that the marauder would be back for his notebook, that afternoon and the next day passed uneventfully on Cabin Island. No one had appeared in the vicinity of the rocks, for the boys examined the place carefully in search of footprints and the snow was still unbroken.
The mystery surrounding Hanleigh, John Sparewell, and the Bender postage stamp collection was gradually receding into the background. But to the Hardy boys it still remained a matter of great concern, especially to Frank. Each evening he sat down and puzzled over the strange cipher, vainly trying to solve the mystery it presented.
“Can’t you figure it out?” asked Joe.
“It beats me,” said Frank, flinging down his pencil. “Once in a while I think I’m on the right track, then something always happens and I find I’m farther away than ever.”
“Let the cipher look after itself. Something will turn up, I’m sure,” put in Chet.
“But if we could only find the message of the cipher, we wouldn’t have to wait for something to turn up.”
Chet looked at the message again. He shook his head.
“It’s too much for me. Don’t let it spoil your holiday, Frank.”
“You know what I’m like when there’s a mystery in the wind. And this is one of the most mysterious puzzles we’ve ever tackled.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of it yet. I’m sure of that. Just wait. Something will turn up,” said Joe.