Free In Plane Sight by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

can.”
    â€œCheck,” Joe said.
    Frank ducked out from behind the rock and lobbed the snowball. Simultaneously Joe sprinted from behind the tree, heading inland.
    Crack! A shot whizzed by Frank. The elder Hardy bolted, following his brother.
    â€œYou think it’s that guy from the plane?” Joe asked as they ran.
    â€œThe skydiver?” Frank said. “Probably. I don’t know who else it could be.” He jumped over a fallen log and nearly lost his footing. Another shot whizzed over the brothers’ heads. They kept running.
    â€œA disgruntled landowner maybe,” Joe said. “Or maybe the pilot of the plane. Did you see if it landed after I fell out?”
    â€œI was too busy worrying about you!”
    â€œHey, heads up!” Joe called.
    Frank ducked, barely avoiding a hanging treebranch in their way. They began running downhill, through low brush and powder snow. Pine needles and dead leaves skidded from under their sneakers, and they struggled to stay on their feet.
    They heard another gunshot, but didn’t hear the bullet hit anything this time.
    â€œMaybe we’re losing him,” Joe said.
    â€œLet’s hope,” Frank replied.
    â€œAny idea which way we’re headed?”
    â€œEast, more or less,” Frank said. “Assuming I haven’t lost track of where the lake is.”
    â€œI think I could lose track of anything in this fog,” Joe said. “We’re not getting any nearer to the rescue site either.”
    Frank shook his head. “I know. It’ll be a wonder if they find us, if this sniper doesn’t find us first.”
    â€œDo you hear something?” Joe asked. “Like wind blowing through the leaves?”
    They didn’t dare stop, but both brothers concentrated as they ran. A sound was steadily building ahead of them. A muffled roar filled the air, as if a strong rainstorm were approaching through the forest.
    They broke through the edge of the woods and onto a rocky slope. Joe stabbed his hand out and grabbed Frank by the shoulder, just before the elder Hardy toppled down a rocky embankment. At the bottom of the slope a swift-running river surged downhill.
    â€œDead end!” Joe said.
    The river was wide—too wide to jump or ford—and more treacherous than any stretch of white water the brothers had ever navigated.
    They looked both up and down the river as far as the fog allowed, but they saw no easy way to cross.
    Crack! Another shot whizzed over their heads.
    â€œIf we stay here,” Frank hissed, “we’re sitting ducks!”
    With a silent nod of agreement, both brothers jumped off the embankment toward the raging river below.

10 Ice Man
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    The Hardys hurtled through the air, over the intervening rocks, and into the frigid waters.
    The river surged around them, trying to drag them under. Joe returned to the surface first. A moment later Frank’s head popped up. They swirled downstream amid huge boulders and dangerous white water.
    They swam with all their might, trying to stay away from the big rocks and dangerous eddies that might suck them below the surface. Joe got turned around but righted himself just in time to avoid hitting his head on a stony outcropping. Instead he hit the boulder with his leg and grunted in pain. “Man!” he said. “I told you I didn’t want to go swimming today.”
    Frank would have laughed, but just then a wave splashed over his head and into his mouth. He coughed the water out and kept paddling downstream.
    Another shot rang out—this time far away. Neither brother heard the bullet whiz by since the roaring of the river made it almost impossible to hear anything.
    The water was freezing, and the brothers were quickly losing their ability to swim in it.
    â€œWe need . . . to get out!” Frank said, barely keeping his head above the white water.
    â€œFirst chance . . . we get,” Joe replied.
    They looked for a