Free The Mystery of the Black Rhino by Franklin W. Dixon

wait for Robert.”
    â€œYeah. It just occurred to me that once we reach the top of the ravine, I’ll have no idea of where to go,” Joe said.
    When Robert was almost to the top of the ravine, he saw the Hardy boys waiting for him. Initially he was clearly angry, but his anger soon dissipated, and a smile appeared on his face.
    â€œI’m beginning to believe everything I read about you in the newspaper this morning,” Robert said. “You two really are special.”
    The Hardy boys grinned and helped Robert the rest of the way to the top.
    Jackson was now standing unsteadily, looking around. He finally spotted the Hardys and Robert standing at the top of the ravine. He shook his fist angrily, and started toward them. After a few steps he fell to the ground, but he was up in seconds and making his way slowly toward them. It was almost like a scene out of a horror movie.
    â€œWe need to get started, Robert. Jackson is headed in our direction,” Frank said. “He’s not going to give up.”
    â€œIf I had had a better angle, I could have gottenin a harder blow with that rock,” Robert said, “and that guy would have been out cold longer.”
    Robert insisted that he could manage to walk on his own now that he was on flatter land, so Frank and Joe gave him his gun and the panga. The three of them then headed in the direction of Cheetah Gate.
    â€œIf we keep the river in sight, we should reach Cheetah Gate in a few hours,” Robert told them.
    They were able to cover more distance than the Hardy boys had thought they could. Robert seemed to be able to walk faster with every few feet—but from time to time, he’d stop to rest, and would tell Frank and Joe that they should go on ahead.
    They had just skirted around a fringe of yellow acacias when they literally ran into four men carrying pangas.
    Frank and Joe recognized two of the men immediately. They were the ones who had been carrying the cheetah. They hadn’t run away out of fear, and they were definitely not in Tanzania. They had gone to fetch some of their fellow poachers to take back the cheetah.
    â€œDrop the pole and run, boys!” Robert cried. “Get to Cheetah Gate and send the police back!”
    Without hesitating, the Hardy boys did as Robert commanded them. They knew they were no match for four men with sharp knives.
    They started running through the tall grass, but one of the poachers was coming after them—with his panga raised.
    Without the burden of the cheetah on the pole, the boys could run faster. The idea of leaving such a magnificent animal and Robert at the mercy of the poachers disturbed them—but if they could reach Cheetah Gate in time, they might be able to save Robert. These men knew that the Hardy boys could identify them. That might count for something.
    Soon they were on a rise, and down below, Frank could see the river. It was overflowing, lapping at the edges of the road. All of a sudden they saw one of the tourist minibuses. It had stopped so some of the passengers could look at something in the water. Crocodiles, Frank thought.
    â€œJoe! Look!” Frank shouted without breaking stride. “I say we head for that bus!”
    Joe looked over his shoulder. The man with the panga raised was still coming after them. “Good idea,” he said. He knew from watching the Summer Olympic Games on television that many Kenyans were long-distance runners, practicing daily by running across the savannah and the hills and mountains in their country. He doubted if this poacher would ever be a member of Kenya’s Olympic team, but that still didn’t mean that he couldn’t run as fast and as far as they could.
    Below them Frank could see that the tourists had begun to reboard the bus.
    â€œHey! Wait for us!” Frank shouted. “We need a ride to Cheetah Gate!”
    One lone passenger was still taking photographs of something in the water. Joe hoped