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

the plane!
    â€œWhew!” Chet exclaimed, then dropped, breathless, to the ground. “What next?”
    Joe, relieved, grinned. “Don’t be so impatient, pal. You’ll have plenty of surprises.”
    â€œI don’t doubt that,” his chum answered.
    The boys retrieved their tools and canteens, then climbed aboard.
    â€œI guess we’d better not leave the plane unguarded again,” Frank declared.
    â€œSuppose we go back to Blythe and get ready for our expedition downriver,” Joe proposed.
    They made a quick flight back to Riverside County Airport. While Joe and Chet unloaded, Frank went over to Gene Smith’s office.
    â€œCan you tell me who is flying this ship?” he inquired, producing the number of the plane that had circled above them. “It was hanging around today up near the giants.”
    Gene studied the paper and checked some forms on his desk. “Let’s see.... That’s a couple of scientists from the Smithsonian Institution in Washington. Taking photographs of those big drawings on the desert.”
    Relieved by the information, Frank rejoined his partners. A taxi carried the boys back to the comfortable motel where they had stayed before. The surprised but happy manager greeted them.
    â€œCouldn’t stay away, I see, boys!” he declared triumphantly. “Nobody can resist this climate. Have you tried our fishing yet?”
    â€œNo.” Joe laughed. “But I guess we will tomorrow.”
    That evening in their room Frank and Joe studied maps of the winding Colorado River, which flowed through the state of Sonora in Mexico.
    â€œHow long will it take us to reach Mexico, do you think?” Joe asked his brother.
    â€œHard to say,” Frank returned. “The distance is only about a hundred miles. But look at this river! Islands, sand bars, and three major dams to portage around.”
    â€œImperial Dam is the first one,” Joe noted. “That’s about eighty miles from Blythe. Laguna Dam is right after that, then there’s Morelos Dam on the Mexican side of the border!”
    â€œThe thing that worries me,” Frank said slowly, “is having all of us away from here. Dad may show up!”
    â€œSay,” Chet spoke up, “how about my staying here? I can look around for any clues and maybe use my camera. That boat trip sounds a little rough for a landlubber!”
    The problem was solved.
    Soon after dawn the following morning, Frank and Joe waved good-by to Chet and the taciturn old-timer from whom they had rented their boat. They also had rented fishing rods and equipment, and had laid in a supply of bait, food, and general supplies.
    Joe took the tiller first. The two powerful outboards, yoked together, were managed by a single lever. Joe headed the red-and-white craft slowly out toward the channel.
    At this hour of day the river was brown in color, its surface glassy smooth. The regular, muffled sound of their motors hardly disturbed the quiet that hung over the water. Now and then ripples shaped like round, expanding targets appeared as a fish gently broke the surface to feed.
    Frank, seated forward in the boat, rigged one of the rods with a spinner and dropped the line over the side. Joe saw the flashing lure, catching light from the sky, disappear astern as his brother let his line run out.
    Within minutes the supple rod was bending and bucking in Frank’s hands. Twenty yards astern a silvery fish leaped into the air, twitching madly, and then dropped below the surface again.
    â€œBass,” commented Joe softly. “Play him easy.”
    Soon Frank brought the exhausted fish, which had broken water five more times, to the side of the boat, where Joe netted it.
    â€œFour pounds, anyway,” declared Joe appreciatively. “He’ll do for lunch!”
    Once out in the channel, Joe opened the throttle. The prow of the boat rose as it sped forward. The boys rounded some islands and