Free The Chase for the Mystery Twister by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

said casually, “Don’t try this trick at home, folks.”
    The Hardys found Phil examining the ropes that had broken. “See how this part is frayed and the other half is smooth?” he said, pointing to the end of the rope. “Someone cut it halfway through.”
    All the workers had rushed over to help. Joe noticed one person was missing, though. “Where’s Hal Kanner?” he said.
    â€œSomeone else is gone, too,” Frank told Joe. “I saw a man with black hair and a mustache listening to our conversation. He disappeared right before the wall fell.”
    â€œThere’s thirty of us, and we ought to be able to find them,” Snowdon said, urging the group in every direction.
    Instead of rushing off with the others, Joe paused and scanned the area. He noticed a place in the cornfield where stalks had been trampled down. “Frank, over this way!” Joe called after his brother, then set off at a dead run into the field.
    Joe looked both ways down each row as he crossed them. He was crossing his ninth row of corn when someone leaped out from behind and tackled him to the ground. Joe got a glimpse ofhis assailant out of the corner of his eye before the man ground Joe’s face into the red dirt of the cornfield, making it nearly impossible for him to breathe. Joe wriggled and bucked and tried every move he knew, but he could not shake off his opponent. He reached back and got a hold on the man’s hair.
    â€œJoe!” he heard his brother shouting from a distance.
    At the sound of Frank’s voice, Joe’s assailant bolted. But his hair did not go with him. Joe rolled over and found he was clutching a curly black wig. He could hear his attacker brushing past stalks of corn and jumped to his feet to pursue the man.
    This time he was on his guard when he broke through each new row, but he did not catch sight of the mystery man. He stopped to listen again and heard the sound of machinery being started up. He ran toward the sound and was just able to see the top of a farm machine over the cornstalks. As he drew near, a row of corn in front of him was flattened and cut to shreds by the rotating blade of a giant thresher.
    Joe stopped short and began to backpedal, barely able to avoid the churning blades as they grazed his clothing. He stumbled, fell to the ground, and rolled away through to the next row of corn. He made it to his feet just as that row was obliterated by the thresher.
    Joe knew he could outrun the machine if he could stay on his feet, but as he crashed through the next row of corn, his path was blocked by a tractor parked there. Joe was trapped with no time to think.
    At the last second, he dove beneath the tractor. The blades of the thresher struck the heavy metal frame of the tractor, shooting sparks against Joe’s back. His brain was filled with the earsplitting sound of metal on metal. The rotating blades stuck fast, unable to move, and the thresher’s engine stalled out.
    Joe breathed a huge sigh of relief.
    â€œJoe?” he heard Frank calling again, much closer now.
    â€œOver here!” Joe called back.
    Frank and Phil quickly found Joe and helped him to his feet.
    â€œAre you all right?” Phil asked.
    â€œBetter than I might have been,” Joe joked, pointing to the mangled blades of the thresher.
    â€œWhat’s in your hand?” Frank asked.
    Joe looked down and was surprised to see that through that whole ordeal he had not let go of the black wig. “It belongs to the guy who nearly made a pancake out of you and a sausage out of me.”
    â€œDid he look familiar?” Phil asked.
    Joe searched his memory. “Yes! The morning we got here. It was the man who was driving that unmarked white truck really fast!”
    â€œHe would have had to make a quick change somewhere near the barn,” Frank said, “but it’s possible it was Hal Kanner in disguise.”
    Snowdon and the other barn raisers