Free The Shattered Helmet by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

ride.
    Tim waved and drove off. Before mounting their cycles, Frank said, “You know, the blond character was not with the two men. Maybe he’s ‘the kid who’s gone for the big stuff.’ I’d like to call Chet and see if Saffel is still at Hunt.”
    â€œLet’s stop at the next phone booth,” Joe agreed.
    A mile farther on they found a highway telephone. Frank went inside and made a person-to-person call.
    In a few seconds Chet was on the line. He was delighted to hear from the Hardys and began asking questions about their case.
    Frank said, “Listen, Chet, I don’t have much time. What I want to ask you is this: Has Saffel left school?”
    â€œMatter of fact, yes.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œRight after you left.”
    â€œHave you seen the red car?”
    â€œNo! Not since the day we saw it at the falls.”
    â€œThanks, Chet. How’s Thelma?”
    â€œGreat, just great! I’ve gained five pounds eating goodies at her house.”
    â€œHow’s the film course?”
    â€œSuper. I’m taking lots of footage of Thelma.”
    Frank chuckled and hung up. “Joe, Saffel’s gone.”
    â€œHe might have followed us,” Joe said. “Well, let’s go and keep our eyes open.”
    Just before sundown the boys arrived in the area where Buckles had been reported to be camping.
    They made several inquiries about a man with his dog and were directed to a camper which had parked in a shady glen. Driving close to it they stopped and approached the camper. Joe knocked on the door. A woman answered.
    â€œSorry,” the boy said. “I think we made a mistake.”
    â€œWhom are you looking for?” she asked.
    â€œBuster Buckles, the old actor,” Joe said. “We were told that he’s camping in this area.”
    â€œYou mean the movie funnyman with his little dog?”
    â€œYes, that’s the one.”
    A man appeared behind the woman and joined in the conversation. “He wasn’t very sociable,” he said.
    The couple told the boys that other neighborshad reported Buster was on his way to Bald Eagle Mountain.
    â€œHardly anybody goes there,” the man said. “No facilities.”
    Frank looked at a road map. Bald Eagle Mountain was not far away. The elevation showed 6,100 feet.
    â€œDo you think we can make it before dark?” Evan asked.
    â€œIf we push hard,” Frank said.
    They hopped on their bikes again and set off. In the distance a great mass of black clouds began to settle into a valley.
    â€œThat storm’s a long way off,” Joe thought. But minutes later lightning forked through the sky. The valley became dark with rain, and the setting sun produced a full rainbow.
    Frank, in the lead, held up his hand in a signal to stop at a crossroad. They checked their maps again and found that the road leading to Bald Eagle Mountain turned left, into the same valley where they had seen the storm.
    They continued on, riding parallel to an arroyo with only a thread of water trickling through it. But the riders noticed that the stream grew larger by the minute. Now the road dipped down over a bridge to the other side of the broad gulch.
    Frank and Joe crossed the bridge first. Evan was third in line. He stopped, fascinated, and reached for his camera. The Hardys did not noticehis absence until they had gone several hundred yards.
    Suddenly Joe shouted and Frank turned to look. To their horror they saw a wall of water swirling down the arroyo.
    â€œA flash flood!” Frank cried out as he wheeled his cycle around. “Evan, come on, hurry!”
    The Greek boy, however, seemed mesmerized by the oncoming flood. He took some more footage. Frank and Joe raced toward him full speed. They braked to a screaming halt at the edge of the bridge and waved their arms wildly.
    All at once Evan realized the danger. He stowed his camera and hopped aboard his cycle. As he did, the first