Read Online Farming Fear by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
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around behind the barn and quickly picked up the snowmobile tracks. They couldn’t see the intruders’ taillights, or even hear their quarry over the howl of the wind.
“I guess we didn’t hear them arrive because of the storm,” Frank said.
“These guys have gotten all the breaks so far,” Joe said. “Now its our turn to put the brakes on them.”
Frank chuckled. “I just hope that when we catch them, we find out where they took Bernie.”
The driving snow made it difficult to see. They were forced to use their low-beam headlights, as the high-beams reflected off the swirling powder, turning the night into a blinding white cloud.
Unfortunately using the low-beams meant they couldn’t see very far ahead. Several times Frank swerved at the last moment, barely avoiding a fence or a lone tree standing in the middle of the pasture.
“These bandits know where they’re going,” Franksaid. “They’ve easily skirted around obstacles that nearly took us out.”
“They’re clearly more familiar with these fields than we are,” Joe agreed. “Probably they’re from nearby.”
“Like the Costello farm, for instance?” Frank suggested.
“Maybe,” Joe replied. “I was thinking that anyone wanting to buy this farm would probably become pretty familiar with its layout.”
“So Patsy Stein’s mall consortium is at the top of your suspects list,” Frank said.
“It wouldn’t be the first time a criminal has tried to force owners off their land,” Joe concluded.
The buggy left the pasture and zipped through the stand of pine trees that stretched down from the northern forest. The snow grew worse by the minute, limiting visibility even further.
“I think I see their taillights!” Joe said, pointing through the trees.
Frank nodded and smiled, but just at that moment, the buggy’s headlights flickered. “It must be a loose wire!” the elder Hardy said.
“We don’t have time to fix it,” Joe countered. “If we do, we’ll lose them for sure. And the way this snow is blowing, we might lose their tracks as well.”
The woods gave way to pasture again as the intruders turned south. Snowdrifts sprang upsuddenly across the snowmobile tracks. The Hardys plowed forward without slowing down. The powdery obstacles burst into blinding clouds as the buggy rushed through.
‘We’re off course,” Frank said after a particularly bad whiteout. The bandits rode on their right now, rather than ahead of them.
“They could be cutting back toward the main road,” Joe said, nearly shouting to be heard above the storm and the growl of the buggy’s engine.
“I’ll cut across the field and try to head them off,” Frank said. He turned to the right, angling the vehicle over a patch of clear snow separating them from the intruders. The buggy’s headlights flickered again, but the brothers were too intent on catching their foes to worry about it.
‘We’re catching up!” Joe exclaimed. Then his blue eyes went wide. “Frank! Watch out for that—!”
Before he could finish, they burst through another drift and skidded onto a large farm pond. The ice beneath the vehicle gave way, and the buggy pitched into the cold, dark water.
8 Frozen Stiffs
----
The chilly liquid burst up all around the Hardys, spraying into their eyes and over their clothing.
The buggy came to a sudden, violent halt, half-submerged in the pond. Frank and Joe jerked forward in their seats; only their seat belts kept them from flying over the stripped-down vehicle’s hood.
“Are you okay?” Frank asked.
“Aside from being soaked, you mean?” Joe replied. “Yeah.”
The buggy’s rear-mounted engine remained above the water and was still running. The drive wheels, also in the rear, were tipped up at an angle and had nothing to purchase on. The tires spun wildly through the snowy air while theengine roared. Frank switched off the engine and pocketed the key.
With broken ice and chilly water pressing in around them, it took the
“I guess we didn’t hear them arrive because of the storm,” Frank said.
“These guys have gotten all the breaks so far,” Joe said. “Now its our turn to put the brakes on them.”
Frank chuckled. “I just hope that when we catch them, we find out where they took Bernie.”
The driving snow made it difficult to see. They were forced to use their low-beam headlights, as the high-beams reflected off the swirling powder, turning the night into a blinding white cloud.
Unfortunately using the low-beams meant they couldn’t see very far ahead. Several times Frank swerved at the last moment, barely avoiding a fence or a lone tree standing in the middle of the pasture.
“These bandits know where they’re going,” Franksaid. “They’ve easily skirted around obstacles that nearly took us out.”
“They’re clearly more familiar with these fields than we are,” Joe agreed. “Probably they’re from nearby.”
“Like the Costello farm, for instance?” Frank suggested.
“Maybe,” Joe replied. “I was thinking that anyone wanting to buy this farm would probably become pretty familiar with its layout.”
“So Patsy Stein’s mall consortium is at the top of your suspects list,” Frank said.
“It wouldn’t be the first time a criminal has tried to force owners off their land,” Joe concluded.
The buggy left the pasture and zipped through the stand of pine trees that stretched down from the northern forest. The snow grew worse by the minute, limiting visibility even further.
“I think I see their taillights!” Joe said, pointing through the trees.
Frank nodded and smiled, but just at that moment, the buggy’s headlights flickered. “It must be a loose wire!” the elder Hardy said.
“We don’t have time to fix it,” Joe countered. “If we do, we’ll lose them for sure. And the way this snow is blowing, we might lose their tracks as well.”
The woods gave way to pasture again as the intruders turned south. Snowdrifts sprang upsuddenly across the snowmobile tracks. The Hardys plowed forward without slowing down. The powdery obstacles burst into blinding clouds as the buggy rushed through.
‘We’re off course,” Frank said after a particularly bad whiteout. The bandits rode on their right now, rather than ahead of them.
“They could be cutting back toward the main road,” Joe said, nearly shouting to be heard above the storm and the growl of the buggy’s engine.
“I’ll cut across the field and try to head them off,” Frank said. He turned to the right, angling the vehicle over a patch of clear snow separating them from the intruders. The buggy’s headlights flickered again, but the brothers were too intent on catching their foes to worry about it.
‘We’re catching up!” Joe exclaimed. Then his blue eyes went wide. “Frank! Watch out for that—!”
Before he could finish, they burst through another drift and skidded onto a large farm pond. The ice beneath the vehicle gave way, and the buggy pitched into the cold, dark water.
8 Frozen Stiffs
----
The chilly liquid burst up all around the Hardys, spraying into their eyes and over their clothing.
The buggy came to a sudden, violent halt, half-submerged in the pond. Frank and Joe jerked forward in their seats; only their seat belts kept them from flying over the stripped-down vehicle’s hood.
“Are you okay?” Frank asked.
“Aside from being soaked, you mean?” Joe replied. “Yeah.”
The buggy’s rear-mounted engine remained above the water and was still running. The drive wheels, also in the rear, were tipped up at an angle and had nothing to purchase on. The tires spun wildly through the snowy air while theengine roared. Frank switched off the engine and pocketed the key.
With broken ice and chilly water pressing in around them, it took the
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