Read Online The Viking Symbol Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online

fitful.
    The next morning was bright and clear. After washing in the bracing river, the group had a good breakfast. Everyone pitched in to break camp, then they set out in the canoe again.
    As the sun grew hotter, hordes of insects buzzed about the boys’ heads, and they quickly covered their upper bodies with the netting they had brought along.
    â€œDad was right about these pests!” Joe said, slapping at a persistent black fly.
    During the next four hours, they navigated down the rapidly moving river, searching for the gasoline raft. They were perspiring from the heat and were growing discouraged when Frank suddenly pointed to the shore.
    â€œOver there!” he called out.
    A crude log raft was barely visible under low-hanging brush. Quickly Caribou cut the motor, and the boys paddled swiftly to shore.
    Joe jumped out first and ran to the raft. Reaching it, he called excitedly, “We’ve found it! I can smell gasoline!”

CHAPTER IX
    Grizzly Charge!
    EXCITED but silent, Frank and Chet slipped out of the canoe, and with Caribou’s help, hauled the boat up on the beach. They rushed over to join Joe at the raft.
    â€œBon tonnerre!” The French-Canadian trapper gave a huge sniff. “This certainly carry fuel!”
    â€œWe can’t be sure that this is Keating’s raft,” Chet spoke up.
    â€œNo,” said Frank. “But it’s a good place to start a search and find out the owner’s identity. Let’s separate and look for a trail.”
    The four spread out in different directions, struggling through the dense, tangled undergrowth back from the river. Suddenly Frank gave a birdcall from a thicket to signal the others.
    â€œI’ve found an opening!” he told them. “Over here!” His companions joined him quickly and found Frank at the head of a crude, narrow trail.
    He and Joe dropped to their knees and studied the path and the weeds at the edge.
    The boys noted that the dirt bore scrape marks and the growth was trampled. Frank announced triumphantly, “Something heavy was dragged or rolled along here not too long ago—and, from the footprints, probably by two men.”
    â€œLike a fuel drum?” Joe added, grinning.
    â€œAh!” Caribou exclaimed, his eyes flashing. “Come on! We’ll follow their trail!”
    He and the boys rushed back to the canoe and unloaded their gear. They strapped on their rucksacks. Chet and Caribou toted the rest of the equipment, while Frank and Joe carried the canoe.
    The searchers set forth on the trail. For the first hundred yards it was narrow and roughly blazed. The group trudged along as the path twisted and turned, growing wider as they walked farther inland. Finally the trail led up the face of a rugged incline.
    â€œWhew! That’ll be a tough portage,” Joe said, as they all paused to rest.
    The Hardys decided to leave the supplies and canoe camouflaged beneath some dense brush. Then the ascent began.
    â€œBoy!” Chet puffed. “Lucky we left our stuff back there and didn’t lug it!”
    â€œOui,” said Caribou. “The men with the drum were very determined.”
    Frank was first to reach the top. He found himself gazing out over a small, sparkling, jewellike lake about a mile in diameter. The shores were ringed with tall, stately Canadian blue spruce trees.
    The other three scrambled to join him at the summit. “Pretty nice,” said Joe. “I could go for a dive in there.” He mopped his brow.
    â€œMe, too,” Chet added emphatically.
    The four hurried along the trail, which was smooth and well cleared, to the edge of the small lake. There the drag marks disappeared into the water. But there was nothing in sight on the smooth surface.
    â€œLet’s circle the lake,” Frank suggested, and they tramped along the curving shore.
    About a quarter of the way around, Joe suddenly pointed offshore. “What’s that out