The Yellow Feather Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

another thought came to Frank and he called him back.
    â€œDid you ever hear of an alumnus of Woodson Academy called Harris D?” he asked.
    Skinny’s forehead wrinkled. “Harris D—Would you mean Harris Dilleau by any chance?”
    â€œMaybe. Who was he and when was he here?”
    â€œWhy, a long time ago. I’ve heard my uncle John Mason talk about him several times. He was in the same class. Uncle John graduated about twenty-two years ago.”
    â€œWhat did he say about Dilleau?” Frank was intensely interested.
    â€œOh, he was a real troublemaker, my uncle said. I think he was expelled from school.”
    The boys separated and Frank went to the guest room to relay this latest bit of information to Joe.
    â€œNow we’re getting somewhere!” Joe cried. “Let’s go to the library and see if we can find out anything more about Dilleau in the yearbooks.”
    But as they scanned the row of annuals, they became discouraged. There was only one publication which dealt with Dilleau’s years at Woodson. Although Skinny’s uncle was mentioned prominently, there was only one short reference to Harris D.
    Joe returned the volume to its proper place. “I’m going to search for the missing yearbooks,” he declared, “and see if they contain any information about Dilleau. I’ll bet he’s a friend of Kurt.”
    During the day he examined shelf after shelf of books but drew a blank. Frank busied himself trailing Kurt. The headmaster’s activities, however, were above suspicion.
    Skinny Mason came to Frank later in the afternoon to report on Benny Tass. The boy had admitted to him that he had gone to the Bayport Times with an advertisement, but claimed it had not appeared in that day’s paper.
    Frank and Joe did not believe Benny’s story. And when they set out that evening they were thinking as much about Kurt as the Yellow Feather, hoping to capture both of them.
    They drove to Segram’s Cove by a circuitous route in order to throw off any possible followers, but reached the bay shore at exactly eight o’clock.
    Frank cast the car headlights over the water and the beams picked out Tony in his motorboat. Frank turned off the lights, locked the car, and the boys started down the slippery embankment.
    The sound of an engine reached their ears as the boat drew toward them, then they heard Tony’s voice as the bow of the Napoli scraped softly against the low dock. An instant later he was running up the snowy slope to meet them.
    â€œHi, Tony,” Frank greeted their friend. “Good timing, eh?”
    â€œGood timing, but bad conditions. Frank, I don’t think we can go. There’s too much floating ice in the bay!”

CHAPTER XI
    Dangerous Waters
    â€œYou mean we’ll have to give up an opportunity to capture the Yellow Feather?” Frank asked with a groan of disappointment.
    â€œTony,” Joe said, “this might be our only chance!”
    The Napoli’s skipper shrugged. “The whole bay is full of great chunks of ice. If we hit one of those floes, it would knock a hole in the hull so fast we’d sink like a rock.”
    Through the darkness, the boys could see the white floes bobbing up and down on the water.
    â€œMiniature icebergs,” Frank observed. “But I sure hate to miss this opportunity of perhaps solving the mystery.”
    â€œI’ll tell you what,” Tony spoke up. “I’m willing to risk the boat. You fellows pilot her. You’re better navigators than I am.”
    â€œI’m game if you are!” Frank cried, and Joe agreed.
    All three sprinted out on the dock and jumped into the Napoli.
    â€œYou take the wheel, Frank,” Joe said, then released the line.
    Frank assured Tony he would use care and eased the sleek craft out into the ice-jammed water. Since he did not wish to betray their presence, he decided to proceed without