Read Online Brother Against Brother by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
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Rita!"
"But if we can't capture him, how can we," — she faltered on the word — "kill him?" "Look," Joe said, pointing just up the road.
"What am I supposed to see?" Rita asked. "That big boulder right on the lip of the canyon," Joe told her. "I bet I can start it down the hill."
"You mean a rock slide?" Rita asked. Joe nodded. "Granted, a rock slide may not be fair, but it is effective."
Rita stared up at the night sky, struggling with the idea. "My father always tried to play by the rules, and look where it got him. Chased down and hounded into the wilderness. His wife and finally himself killed," she said quietly.
"You said this wouldn't be very fair. Well, neither was throwing a bomb in our cabin." She looked Joe in the eye. "Let's do it!"
Rita and Joe rested against the big boulder and dug in with their feet. Then with all their strength they leaned back into it. It started to wobble.
Below, Frank stopped his search when he heard a low grinding noise. He looked up at the noise. It grew louder and louder, until a deafening rumble filled the air.
Frank lifted his flashlight—and shrank back. The gigantic boulder rolling down the side of the ravine was picking up speed and loosening other rocks. He was in a direct path with it.
He jumped back. A shower of gravel and pebbles pelted him on the head and chest. One rock struck his arm with stunning force and his hand went numb, forcing him to drop the flashlight. It hit against the ground with a thud, and the beam died.
Frank turned around and ran. How could he escape this trap?
Rita hid her head against Joe's chest as the deafening noise increased.
Joe rubbed her back, trying to calm her. He could feel her heaving with fear. "That should take care of him!" he said.
His words were nearly drowned out by the sound of boulders crashing against the canyon floor.
Joe and Rita followed the boulder as it tumbled toward the Jeep.
Chapter 11
Frantically trying to outrace the thundering rock slide, Frank dashed for the far wall of the canyon. He scrambled up the steep rocky face on his hands and knees, trying to secure toeholds and handholds. His numb arm slowed him as he dragged himself up.
Now I know how a target in a shooting gallery feels, he thought as rock fragments pinged off the canyon wall. He tried to pull himself up with his bad arm, but it betrayed him. Frank slipped down. He yanked with his good arm and just cleared the spot where a stone smashed against the wall.
Frank struggled upward as the rock slide buried the Jeep. Vibrations brought more rocks down— on both sides of the canyon. As he clawed his way to safety, Frank had to hug the wall, covering his head and neck. Minislides rattled over him. Stones tore at his handholds, bashing his body with the force of punches. Rock dust choked him.
Then, as suddenly as the slide had begun—it stopped. A cloud of dust settled on Frank as he clung precariously to a ledge, waiting for aftershocks. But, after a moment, the night was eerily still.
Frank dragged himself to his feet, fighting to catch his breath. "That was no accident," he muttered to himself.
As if to confirm Frank's suspicions, a mechanical noise came from the road above him. A car engine. Frank's rental car? He lay low, just in case a light might pan the ravine below. Instead he heard someone gas the car, rev the motor, and drive away.
Frank groaned. He was much too far away to make any effective objection to the theft.
He sat up and started scouting his surroundings. The Jeep at the bottom of the ravine had disappeared, buried under tons of boulders and rocks.
But Frank now had a suspicion as to why he had found the Jeep empty. Imagine the nerve of that killer, he thought. He's done something to Joe and the girl and driven off in their Jeep!
Then when the Jeep stalled, he set up a trap, sure to lure any motorist to certain death in the ravine.
Frank's face went grim as he realized what he had just thought. Joe could be dead!
But Frank
"But if we can't capture him, how can we," — she faltered on the word — "kill him?" "Look," Joe said, pointing just up the road.
"What am I supposed to see?" Rita asked. "That big boulder right on the lip of the canyon," Joe told her. "I bet I can start it down the hill."
"You mean a rock slide?" Rita asked. Joe nodded. "Granted, a rock slide may not be fair, but it is effective."
Rita stared up at the night sky, struggling with the idea. "My father always tried to play by the rules, and look where it got him. Chased down and hounded into the wilderness. His wife and finally himself killed," she said quietly.
"You said this wouldn't be very fair. Well, neither was throwing a bomb in our cabin." She looked Joe in the eye. "Let's do it!"
Rita and Joe rested against the big boulder and dug in with their feet. Then with all their strength they leaned back into it. It started to wobble.
Below, Frank stopped his search when he heard a low grinding noise. He looked up at the noise. It grew louder and louder, until a deafening rumble filled the air.
Frank lifted his flashlight—and shrank back. The gigantic boulder rolling down the side of the ravine was picking up speed and loosening other rocks. He was in a direct path with it.
He jumped back. A shower of gravel and pebbles pelted him on the head and chest. One rock struck his arm with stunning force and his hand went numb, forcing him to drop the flashlight. It hit against the ground with a thud, and the beam died.
Frank turned around and ran. How could he escape this trap?
Rita hid her head against Joe's chest as the deafening noise increased.
Joe rubbed her back, trying to calm her. He could feel her heaving with fear. "That should take care of him!" he said.
His words were nearly drowned out by the sound of boulders crashing against the canyon floor.
Joe and Rita followed the boulder as it tumbled toward the Jeep.
Chapter 11
Frantically trying to outrace the thundering rock slide, Frank dashed for the far wall of the canyon. He scrambled up the steep rocky face on his hands and knees, trying to secure toeholds and handholds. His numb arm slowed him as he dragged himself up.
Now I know how a target in a shooting gallery feels, he thought as rock fragments pinged off the canyon wall. He tried to pull himself up with his bad arm, but it betrayed him. Frank slipped down. He yanked with his good arm and just cleared the spot where a stone smashed against the wall.
Frank struggled upward as the rock slide buried the Jeep. Vibrations brought more rocks down— on both sides of the canyon. As he clawed his way to safety, Frank had to hug the wall, covering his head and neck. Minislides rattled over him. Stones tore at his handholds, bashing his body with the force of punches. Rock dust choked him.
Then, as suddenly as the slide had begun—it stopped. A cloud of dust settled on Frank as he clung precariously to a ledge, waiting for aftershocks. But, after a moment, the night was eerily still.
Frank dragged himself to his feet, fighting to catch his breath. "That was no accident," he muttered to himself.
As if to confirm Frank's suspicions, a mechanical noise came from the road above him. A car engine. Frank's rental car? He lay low, just in case a light might pan the ravine below. Instead he heard someone gas the car, rev the motor, and drive away.
Frank groaned. He was much too far away to make any effective objection to the theft.
He sat up and started scouting his surroundings. The Jeep at the bottom of the ravine had disappeared, buried under tons of boulders and rocks.
But Frank now had a suspicion as to why he had found the Jeep empty. Imagine the nerve of that killer, he thought. He's done something to Joe and the girl and driven off in their Jeep!
Then when the Jeep stalled, he set up a trap, sure to lure any motorist to certain death in the ravine.
Frank's face went grim as he realized what he had just thought. Joe could be dead!
But Frank
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