Free The Madman of Black Bear Mountain by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

to the riverbank broke.
    My little raft shot down the rapids like an out-of-control speedboat, nearly tossing me over the side. I looked back, expecting to see Dr. Kroopnik standing on the bank, holding the broken rope. He still had a hold on the rope, all right, only he wasn’t on the bank—he was being dragged through the water behind me!
    The scientist struggled to keep his head above water as the rapids threatened to take him under. I looked frantically for a place to land, but the current was too swift and the bank way too high. Dr. Kroopnik didn’t even have a life vest.I had to find a way to get him on board before he drowned or smashed against the rocks.
    I dug in hard with my paddle, cutting the raft sideways across the rapids into a patch of slightly calmer water. The raft slowed, but Dr. Kroopnik didn’t, and he bodysurfed right into the boat’s stern—just like I’d planned! I held the raft as steady as I could, giving him a chance to pull himself aboard before we were whisked back downstream at a furious clip.
    The soaked scientist clung to the raft to keep from getting tossed right back over. The second paddle had gone overboard when the raft first broke free, so the job of trying to steer the two-man raft with only one paddle fell to me.
    â€œThank you!” he shouted once he had his breath back. “I thought I was a goner until you pulled that slick maneuver back there to save me.”
    â€œYou got it,” I said, trying to veer the raft toward the bank in search of a place to land. “Now we have to go back to save my brother, Joe!”
    â€œWe can’t! Not until we’re out of the ravine and the water calms down. The danger of capsizing is too great!” He had to shout to be heard over the rapids. “Besides, your brother is in good hands.”
    â€œGood hands?!” I yelled, my mind flashing back to the giant ax-wielding wild man I’d seen at the research station. “You must be madder than the Mad Hermit!”
    For some reason, Dr. Kroopnik seemed to find that funny. “Trust me, the Mad Hermit is one of the good guys.”
    He must have seen the look of complete shock on my face, because he hesitated for a second before shouting a disclaimer. “Okay, sure, he’s a notorious Russian mobster who faked his own death to avoid prosecution, but he’s just about the nicest Russian mobster you’ll ever meet.”
    The pieces finally clicked into place—the plane crash, the fugitive whose body was never found, the exotic Russian gem and the old Russian money—but I still couldn’t quite believe it. “So the Mad Hermit really didn’t eat that Orlov guy after his plane crashed?”
    â€œNot unless he ate and regurgitated himself,” Dr. Kroopnik yelled. “That old legend about the man-eating mountain man has been around forever; Aleksei just borrowed it to scare people off so they wouldn’t find out who he really was.”
    â€œSo the mythical Mad Hermit of Black Bear Mountain is real and not real, all at the same time,” I said. “Talk about a great disguise!”
    â€œWorked pretty well until a few days ago. Wait a second—” Dr. Kroopnik scrutinized me. “You really didn’t know the hermit was Aleksei? I assumed you must have, since you were mixed up with that woman on the bridge.”
    â€œWe thought that woman was you!”
    â€œI can’t say anyone’s ever mistaken me for a beautiful woman before!” he mused at top volume. “What in the world ever gave you that idea?”
    â€œShe did!” I said. “My high school conservation club came to see Max Kroopnik and she’s the one who showed up to meet us!”
    â€œYou’re from the Bayport High conservation group! I’d been looking forward to meeting Mr. Morgan and his students!” he exclaimed. “I would have been waiting for you myself, but I was a little