CHAPTER III

Clue Hunting

"what's the matter?" Joe asked, puzzled.

The stern-looking man did not answer. He merely motioned with his head for Frank to accompany him. At the same time he took the boy's arm.

"Unload our gear, anyway," Frank called as he turned to go. "I'll see to this."

The man led Frank to a small building and into an office. Inside, a stout, jovial-looking man sat at a little desk. He seemed to be engaged in a wrestling match with the typewriter in front of him, for he had grasped it by the roller in two big hands and was tugging first one way and then the other to move it.

"Hello, Cooper. Never could use one of these things!"

Smiling, Frank Hardy stepped forward. "Allow

23

24 Mystery of the Desert Giant

me, sir." He pressed the lever that allowed the carriage to slide back and forth.

"Humph!" the man grunted. "Thanks, my boy. "Who is this?" he asked, turning to the man named Cooper.

"That young Hardy pilot. The one they're after for causing that near crash at Chicago."

The man at the desk looked at Frank sympathetically. "I'm sorry, son. This may mean your license. But we can't be too careful about air safety."

Perceiving in a flash that someone had misrepresented the incident at Chicago, Frank declared, "Sir, if you think I'm responsible for that near collision, you should get the real facts from Chicago."

"Why, that's where our information came from -by long-distance phone call!"

"But not from anyone in authority," Frank insisted. "And why wasn't the message teletyped?"

"You have a point, son. We'll get in touch with Chicago at once. I'm Eugene Smith, manager of this airport at the moment."

While Mr. Cooper, the F.A.A. representative, was communicating with Chicago in another room, Frank explained to Mr. Smith that the three boys had come to search for Willard Grafton, who had disappeared in the desert nearby.

"About three months ago now." Mr. Smith

Clue Hunting 25

nodded. "Made quite a stir hereabouts. Never did find him, did they?"

"No, and we believe there's somebody who doesn't want him found, either." Briefly, Frank told of the Bayport eavesdropper. "I wouldn't be surprised if the false report you received about me is part of a plan to stop or at least to hold up our investigation!"

Just then, the loud disgruntled voice of Chet Morton was heard outside the office door. "I don't care if the whole United States government is keeping him in there! I'm starving! I want to eat!"

"There's a man after my heart." Mr. Smith chuckled. He called out heartily, "Come in, boys!"

Frank, Joe, and Chet had packed their belongings in rucksacks, which were more suitable for desert life than ordinary luggage. Now Joe came in bearing the neatly packed sack with his and Frank's things. Chet Morton followed with a bulging pack of his own. First he stumbled into the door. Then he lurched against the doorframe.

"Somebody ought to repack that mule's load," commented the airport manager, his eyes twinkling. He shook hands all around.

At that moment Mr. Cooper, looking a great deal more friendly, returned. "You're in the

26 Mystery of the Desert Giant

clear," he announced to Frank. "No one in authority at Chicago made that call. Why would anybody play such a dirty trick on you?"

A confusion of voices arose as Eugene Smith satisfied Cooper's curiosity and Frank explained to Chet and Joe.

"Oh-oh!" Chet rubbed his head gingerly. "I knew we hadn't seen the last of that guy who slugged me!"

When the boys emerged from the office it was nearly eight o'clock. The cloudless sky was a luminous blue. Up on the dry mountains, visible from across the desert, the shadow-filled draws looked like dark trickles of blue-black ink spilling down from the ridges.

"What a sky!" Chet exclaimed enthusiastically. "Somehow it looks bigger than it does back home."

"It's because the atmosphere is so clear," Frank commented.

Soon a sleek cream-colored convertible drew up with Gene Smith at the wheel. "Jump in!" he called. "I'll drive you into town."

Rucksacks were stashed in the back seat, and Chet climbed in after them. Frank and Joe rode in front.

As the car headed toward Blythe, where the boys would stay, the Hardy boys were surprised by the soft, warm air currents playing about their faces. Although it was nearly sundown, there was

Clue Hunting 27

not a hint of moisture, not a trace of dew in the air.

"I thought the desert nights would be cool," Joe remarked.

"Not in summer," Smith replied. "On a night like this you can sleep outdoors with no bedroll and not get a chill. Do you plan on sleeping in the desert?"

"Later. We'll stay in town tonight," Frank answered.

"Then here's where you want to stay," Cooper said.

The convertible turned into the driveway of an attractive new motel. The building itself was white and shaped like a horseshoe. The quivering blue water of a swimming pool danced in the open space, and now and then spray leaped into the air as someone dived.

"Let's camp here," Chet agreed, piling out of the car. "They have a swell-looking restaurant!"

The boys took a room on the second floor, located in the curved section of the horseshoe. Lugging their rucksacks, they mounted the outside staircase. Ten minutes later they were in the pool. After dressing, they enjoyed a dinner that satisfied even Chet's appetite.

The next morning Frank proposed that the boys visit the offices of the Daily Enterprise, Blythe's only newspaper, and read up on the Grafton story.

28 Mystery of the Desert Giant

"According to Dad, two of a detective's best friends are the newspaper and the police," the young sleuth remarked.

Later, after the three had studied clippings in the Enterprise's morgue, Joe said, "Nothing new here-only that Grafton and Wetherby landed near the giant effigy outside Ripley."

"Where's their plane now?" Chet asked.

"Let's see . . . taken to Riverside County Airport by the authorities. We'll ask Gene Smith to let us look at it later," Frank suggested.

"Now," said Joe, as they left the building, "let's try the detective's other best friend-the police."

Fenton Hardy's reputation as an investigator was known even to the small Blythe police force. The chief greeted Frank and Joe warmly, but could give little new information.

"You know as much about Grafton as we do," he admitted. "Wetherby once lived here in Blythe. But that doesn't prove anything, either."

Temporarily discouraged, the young sleuths strolled down Hobsonway, the town's main street, discussing the situation.

"Tell you what!" Joe suddenly proposed to his brother. "You be Willard Grafton, and Chet and I will be Clifford Wetherby I"

"Wha-a-t?"

"I mean, you pilot the plane, and Chet and I will be passengers. We'll make the same flight

Clue Hunting 29

they did. We'll see the same things from the air. We'll land in the same place. Maybe then we'll learn some answers."

"Let's hope we don't disappear in the same way!" Chet muttered.

"You'll never disappear, Chet," Frank needled. "There's too much of you to hide."

The stout boy made a pass in self-defense. "What say we have lunch before we start?"

After a quick meal the boys were driven by one of the motel employees to Riverside County Airport. The sun blazed upon the white buildings and the bright-colored wing surfaces of the standing aircraft. Frank and Joe wore their comfortable wide-brimmed hats, and Chet sported a new straw sombrero he had purchased.

"Whew! Talk about heat," Chet complained. "Do you know it's 108 degrees in this sun? I just checked the airport thermometer."

"Cheer up," Joe replied. "I've read that the desert sand gets as hot as 165 degrees, and we're in for some walking!"

Chet groaned. "Why don't we go back to that nice motel and take a siesta? That's what the Mexicans do in this heat."

"Because of Willard Grafton," Frank reminded him. "He may be in danger."

After unlocking the plane, the boys waited for air to circulate in the cabin, which was as hot as an oven. A few minutes later the trim blue craft

30 Mystery of the Desert Giant

rose smoothly from the runway. Dipping one wing, Frank banked in a circle over the airport, then headed north for the desert giants.

The boys enjoyed the scene beneath them. The Colorado River, as blue as the sky itself, was lined with beautiful yellow-leaved tamarisk trees. On the Arizona side were the brown, rugged badlands, but the California side was a rich patchwork of growing crops. Each field was a different shade of green.

"Say, I thought this was desert country," Chet marveled.

"It was," Frank answered. "You're looking at the result of irrigation in this spot. See the little ditch lines? No better soil anywhere. All it needs is water."

Farther on, they spotted the desert effigies and Frank dropped down for a landing not far from the knoll on which they had seen the lone giant.

"Assuming this is where Grafton landed," Joe mused as they piled out of the plane, "what would he have done next?"

"He'd probably have climbed up onto that knoll to look around," Frank suggested. "Come on!"

Eagerly the young detectives scrambled to the top of the steep bank to hunt for clues.

"Let's just stand here a moment and get our bearings," Joe suggested when they had reached the top.

Clue Hunting 31

From where the boys stood, the area ahead of them was a dry, pebble-covered expanse and nothing more, with the exception of a small bush here and there. Not far from them, however, they noticed a wide dirt path.

"Looks as if somebody took a broom and swept a walk among the pebbles," Chet remarked.

"Believe it or not, that's one of the giant's legs," Joe said.

Frank looked thoughtful. "I'm wondering," he said, "if these knolls aren't man-made. The ancient Indians could have built them and then drawn the effigies on top."

"You may be right, Frank," Joe replied. "It's a good theory. And the position of the giant may have meant something."

The boys tramped around the knoll, gazing in every direction. "Look," said Joe, desperately seeking a clue, "if Grafton stood here, what would have caught his attention?"

Suddenly Frank, who stood near the left hand of the giant, gazing down at the desert, cried out, "There's something glinting out there!"

"What is it-a mineral?" Joe asked.

"Let's find out!" Frank urged, starting down the embankment.

Joe and Chet, following close behind, saw Frank reach the desert floor, then suddenly skid to a halt and leap backward.

"Look out!" he shouted warningly.