Free The Jungle Pyramid by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

on their way. The pilot flew across central Mexico, took the long leg of the journey across the Gulf, and zoomed past the shoreline over the jungle, thick with trees and tropical vegetation.
    Suddenly the engine began to sputter. The boys looked at one another in alarm.
    â€œWhat’s happening?” Frank asked tensely.
    â€œI don’t know,” the pilot replied. “I had everything checked out before we left. But this is definitely trouble.”
    He worked the controls frantically. But it was of no use. The engine quit and the plane nose-dived toward the jungle!

CHAPTER X
    The Boa Constrictor
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    DowN, down they plunged! The jungle seemed to be rushing up to meet them and presently they could see the upper branches of the trees!
    The pilot fought desperately to bring his plane out of its nose-dive. At the last moment, the engine came to life, and he regained control. They swooped down, then climbed just above the trees. Now he was able to zoom back to a safe altitude.
    The pilot mopped his brow. “I don’t understand what happened. I double-checked everything before we left Mexico City.”
    â€œCould be somebody doesn’t want us to get to Palango,” Frank observed in a shaky voice.
    The plane flew across Yucatán and came down for a landing at Mérida, the main city in the northern Mayan region. The boys climbed out. All were shaken by the near crash.
    â€œT-t-terra firma for me,” Chet stuttered.
    â€œFor me, too,” Biff added.
    â€œThe Mayas had the right idea,” Tony said. “They never fooled around with planes.”
    The Hardys tried to cheer their pals. “We got here, didn’t we?” Joe pointed out.
    â€œBetter than hacking our way through the jungle,” Frank declared.
    The pilot inspected his plane. “Somebody tampered with the engine,” he said grimly. “I’ll have to repair it.”
    His passengers checked with airport officials to see if anybody had seen a private plane marked “Mexico City.” Nobody had, so the boys decided to go right on to Palango. Frank rented a jeep and drove to Chichén Itzá. All of them marveled at the ruins of temples and pyramids that once were the center of the Mayan culture of northern Yucatán. They asked a policeman about Palango.
    â€œTake the dirt road northeast,” the man replied, “and then follow the jungle trail. The Palango dig is at the end of it.”
    The boys set out, with Biff at the wheel of the jeep. The dirt road ended and the jungle trail began. It was so rough and bumpy through the dense tropical vegetation that they felt sore and bruised. Even well-padded Chet complained. “I’m not made to be a rubber ball,” he said.
    Biff shifted into low gear. “We should have rented a Sherman tank,” he grumbled.
    Joe laughed. “How about a swamp buggy?”
    The jeep jounced over a large bush. An enormous hole loomed directly ahead! Biff stepped on the brake and the jeep halted at the edge of the hole with a jerk that nearly sent Chet flying over the windshield.
    Frank pointed to a pile of fresh earth beside the trail. “Somebody dug that hole recently. I wonder—”
    A splintering sound interrupted him. A giant tree beside the trail began to sway. It toppled toward the jeep!
    Biff reacted instantly. He stepped on the gas, wrenched the wheel to the left, and scooted into the jungle undergrowth flanking the trail just before the tree fell with a crash. The boys ducked as the branches lashed over the jeep. Then Biff cut back out onto the trail beyond the hole and stopped.
    He sighed with relief. “Anyone hurt?” he asked.
    The others said no, then Frank proposed that they look around before going on.
    The boys walked to the fallen tree. As Chet inspected the tangle of heavy branches, he remarked, “It’s lucky we got out from under.”
    â€œThe tree would have smashed us,” Tony