Read Online Mystery of the Desert Giant by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online

remarked as they worked. “Look at this loose soil and the size of the hole. I’d say at least two people had been on the job.”
    â€œThey were wasting their time,” said Chet, ten minutes later. He was wringing wet. “We haven’t seen anything valuable hidden here.”
    The Hardys had to agree. There seemed to be nothing worth digging for.
    â€œWhat do you think?” Joe asked. “Could they have cleared the hole of all valuable rocks?”
    â€œI don’t think so,” his brother returned. “There would be a few traces left. We haven’t seen a single fragment of the kind of rock that contains semiprecious stones.”
    â€œWhat were they digging for, then?” Chet wanted to know. “You mentioned buried treasure.”
    â€œI still think one might have been hidden by Indians or even Spanish explorers. The desert giant was the direction marker to show the location.”
    â€œWell, whatever it was, do you suppose Grafton and Wetherby were the ones looking for it?” Chet asked.
    â€œCould be,” Joe returned. “They were here recently enough.” Carefully, he examined the ground.
    â€œNot a footprint, or even a trace of one,” he reported, discouraged. “A good solid heel print would have given us something to work with.”
    â€œNo.” Frank nodded. “Whoever it was knew what he was doing. He brushed away the prints in Indian style, with one of these sagebrush bushes.”
    Chet sat down to rest. Finally Frank gave up and flopped to the desert. “Pretty hot seat!”
    â€œBetter than nothing,” said Chet. “I’m pooped!”
    Joe kept on for a few minutes. By this time nearly all the soft earth had been turned over. Joe was about to give up when his shovel suddenly swept a piece of cloth into the air.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Frank asked eagerly, jumping to his feet.
    Joe picked up the dirt-covered clotn and shook it. “A man’s brown handkerchief,” he said.
    Chet, interested now, dragged himself to Joe’s side. “You think one of the diggers dropped it?”
    â€œI’m sure of it.”
    â€œAnd,” Frank added, “his name begins with the letter P.”
    Frank pointed out the initial P, of a slightly lighter color, embroidered in one corner of the handkerchief.
    â€œSay, this is great!” Chet cried out enthusiastically. But in a moment his face fell. “This means neither Grafton nor Wetherby dropped it.”
    â€œCorrect,” said Frank. “But it could mean that they have some pal whose name starts with P.”
    â€œIn any case,” Joe added, “we’ll take it along as a souvenir or as evidence.”
    â€œLet’s give up this desert search until it gets cooler,” Chet pleaded. “Talk about hot enough to fry an egg. Lil ole Chet will be boiled Morton pretty soon!”
    The Hardys laughed. Then Frank suggested they fly to the edge of the desert where the mountains began and rest in the cool shade.
    â€œIt’s just possible there are more mineral rocks in the mountains,” he suggested.
    â€œGood idea,” said Joe, and Chet nodded.
    The boys went back to the plane and cooled the cabin with its air conditioner before taking off. A little while later Frank set the craft down and the three sleuths, carrying cans of food, tomato juice, and the digging tools, sought the shade of the mountainside.
    â€œThis is something like it!” Chet said with a sigh of relief as he pulled out his penknife can-opener attachment.
    After the meal, Chet dozed, while Frank and Joe discussed the mystery. Presently Frank, looking up the slope, said, “I see a cave opening up there. Let’s have a look at it.”
    The cave mouth yawned about forty feet above them. Scrambling up the slope, the Hardys stood staring at the entrance.
    Frank pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and said, “Think I’ll go