Free Mystery of the Desert Giant by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

somewhere!”
    â€œThere’s probably a trail leading to the top that’s invisible to us from here,” Frank replied. “Watch out for anybody spying from above!”
    For about an hour the vigilant youths watched both rocks and cliffs carefully. Finally Joe Hardy decided to relax. “May as well enjoy ourselves,” he said.
    From their fishing box he took a bright-colored plug, which he attached to one of the casting rods. “Here goes for another big bass!”
    Joe flipped the plug into likely spots along the shore. No unwary fish followed the wiggling lure back to the boat.
    His brother laughed. “Too fancy. Let me show you how it’s done.” Digging into the bait pail, Frank came up with a long, lively night crawler. “Now, Joe, you use the artificial lure and I’ll try this fellow. We’ll see who gets a bass first.”
    â€œOkay, Isaak Walton!” Joe accepted the challenge.
    But the fish did not seem to find the night crawler any more attractive than the fancy plug. Now it was Joe’s turn to laugh.
    â€œJust like detective work,” he commented. “Sometimes you wait hours for a bite.”
    At that moment, out of the corner of his eye, Frank caught sight of the white shirt and blue dungarees of a man stepping from behind the rocks on shore. He told his brother, adding in a low voice, “Keep right on fishing.”
    Next time Joe made a cast in the man’s direction. Though he seemed only to be watching his plug, he was really looking the newcomer over. “Not the bellman,” he said in an undertone.
    The strange man did not seem to be interested in Frank and Joe, either. He removed his shoes, waded out to the moored boat, climbed in, and untied the painter. Drifting slowly, he wound up the starting cord and gave a quick pull. Then, with his small motor put-putting, the man steered down the river.
    Meanwhile, Frank and Joe had reeled in their lines and hauled in their anchors. “He may be planning to pick up the bellman,” Joe whispered. “Let’s keep him in sight.”
    With their powerful twin outboards, there was no danger of the man’s outrunning them. Frank kept between fifty and a hundred yards behind the other boat.
    After a while the stranger, glancing behind him, slackened his speed. Frank slowed up, too. In a minute the man cut his motor altogether. Turning, he waved the boys forward with his arm.
    â€œNo, thanks!” Instead of passing, Frank cut his motor, too.
    â€œWise guys!” the man shouted angrily, menacing with his fist. “Looking for trouble, are you?”
    â€œWe just want to talk to the passenger you’re going to pick up,” Frank replied calmly.
    â€œI ain’t goin’ to pick up no passenger. So get on your way!”
    â€œIs that so?” Frank returned. “I think we’ll hang around, anyway, and make sure.”
    Furious, the man took the starting cord and whipped his motor into life again. Calmly, Frank did the same.
    â€œHow far will he go?” Joe wondered.
    The man chugged on steadily without taking notice of the Hardys again until both boats entered the wide expanse of water above Laguna Dam.
    In the middle of the reservoir, the surly stranger cut his motor again. When he saw that Frank did the same, he turned on the boys in a rage.
    â€œI’ll yell for the cops!”
    â€œDon’t bother,” Joe broke in. “Here comes a police launch now!”
    Frank turned and caught sight of the big police cruiser traveling swiftly across the water in their direction. As the launch bore down on them he heard the boat of the bad-tempered stranger pick up speed. Frank turned quickly. The suspicious motorboat was racing toward the Arizona shore. Even as the police came alongside, they saw the man leap from the boat, dash up the beach, and disappear.
    Then Frank and Joe noticed that one of the policemen had been watching the strange man through