CHAPTER XVII

The Chemical Fog

"don't move!" Frank flattened back against the door and spread both arms to restrain his companions.

But the gesture came a split second too late. Panic-stricken, Grafton had leaped from the porch-straight into the path of the swift-moving snake!

For an instant the man's long legs were exposed to the danger of a bite, since he had landed with one boot on either side of the writhing, diamond-backed body. But before the reptile could coil to strike, Grafton had dashed to safety. The snake started to slither back to the porch.

"Grab one of these-quick!" Joe had discovered a pile of wooden stakes, each about three feet long, next to the porch. Armed, the boys charged after the retreating reptile. Unable to reach cover, the sidewinder turned and coiled it-

149

150 Mystery of the Desert Giant

self menacingly. Warily Frank extended his stick. Bang! The snake, nearly five feet long, crashed into the target with such force that the weapon was knocked from Frank's hands.

Seizing the opportunity while the snake lay extended on the ground, Joe rushed in and with a well-placed stroke killed the reptile.

"Wowl" Frank exclaimed. "I didn't know those babies packed such a wallop!"

"That settles him, anyhow," Joe said. "It's okay, Mr. Grafton-the snake's dead," he called to the scared man, who had watched the fight from fifty yards away.

Reassured, Grafton came back. "Thanks, fellows," he said.

"You had a mighty close call," Joe reminded him. "Why did you jump like that?"

"I-I panicked, I guess. You see, I was brought up in dry country like this. When I was a little boy, I nearly died of rattlesnake venom. Ever since, I've been terribly afraid of snakes."

"Well," Joe suggested, "let's get out of this sun, anyhow. I'm glad I don't have a thermometer. I'd hate to know how hot it is in this desert."

But Willard Grafton refused to move toward the cabin. "No, I couldn't stay there now," he declared nervously. "That snake may have a mate."

"But you can't just stand out on the desert," Joe argued. "And we can't keep you in town-it's

The Chemical Fog 151

too dangerous. After all, you're in hiding, you know!"

Not until Frank and Joe had poked and probed thoroughly under all parts of the cabin did Graf-ton move to enter the building. They found the big single room of the cabin pleasantly cool. Bunk beds, two-tiered, had been built against three walls. Hanging on the fourth were cooking utensils and fishing equipment for their use. The boys decided to wait for Chet and his friend on the porch, where they could watch the river.

"Wish they would hurry up," Joe remarked impatiently. "I'm getting hungry. Besides, we have work to do to crack the rest of this case."

At this new mention of the case, Frank shot an inquiring glance at Willard Grafton, who returned a little smile. "All right," he said. "I've been holding out on you boys. I'll make a clean breast of it, because I'm just beginning to see how hard you've worked to help me. But please don't be disappointed if I can't tell you much."

"You must know enough to implicate the gang," Frank reminded him. "Otherwise, they wouldn't be so eager to get hold of you again."

To the brothers' surprise, Grafton shook his head. "I don't know as much as they think I do. They never really took me into their full confidence, because I refused to join the gang."

Although disappointed, Frank suggested that

152 Mystery of the Desert Giant

Graf ton tell them what he knew. "First, what's their racket? That's the big question."

"I'm not sure. I only have my suspicions. Suppose I start at the beginning. After we crossed the border, Wetherby took me to a lonely hideout, where he had three Mexicans waiting for us. I didn't like the men's looks. All they talked about was making easy money. That's when I became suspicious and said so. But Wetherby wouldn't let me go, and it was then I realized I really was his prisoner.

"Twice we went to town and on threat of death Wetherby made me get his bad personal checks cashed at food stores. He had some checks on a Mexican bank and used an assumed name."

"Did you try to break with him?" Frank asked.

"Yes. But it was hopeless. Wetherby again offered me a share in their illegal racket. When I refused, he set the men to guard me at the lonely spot. After that, they were always careful about what they said. But I did overhear some talk about zinc plates. That makes me think they must be counterfeiters of some kind."

"But what are they counterfeiting?" Frank queried.

"That I don't know."

"Maybe I do!" Joe exclaimed suddenly. "Mr. Grafton, did you ever hear the names of any Americans in the racket?"

"Yes, I did. Al Purdy was one."

The Chemical Fog 153

Frank and Joe exchanged glances. The handkerchief they had found had the initial P on itl

Frank and Joe almost shouted in their excitement. Joe cried out, "Al Purdy must have been the phony bellman!"

Grafton went on, "Purdy had two buddies Caesar and Ringer."

Quickly the Hardys told Grafton of their own encounters with Purdy, Ringer, and Caesar. "And this same Purdy is the man Chet discovered making a mysterious trip into the desert at night," Joe finished. "And the one who knocked him out in Bayport and stole the prints."

"There's just one thing that doesn't fit into the picture," Frank remarked.

"What's that?" Joe asked.

"The rock we found with the jasper in it. Mr. Grafton, does the gang deal in semiprecious stones? We found a valuable rock near the spot where your plane was abandoned. Could that be what Purdy was looking for when Chet snapped his picture in the desert?"

Perplexed, Grafton shook his head. "I doubt it. I don't remember seeing any such rock myself, and I don't think Purdy had anything to do with it. Probably some rock hunter lost it."

"Then Purdy was here for another reason," Frank declared. "We may have arrived at the right time to make a capture!"

A gentle put-putting sound from up the river

154 Mystery of the Desert Giant

cut short the conversation. Squinting against the glare of the sun upon the water, Joe made out a good-sized motorboat carrying two people.

"Probably Chet and his friend looking for us," he guessed. "I'll run down to the dock and wave."

As a response to Joe's signal, the putting sound swelled to a roar like that of a buzz saw. The boat shot toward the dock, throwing up a white spray on either side of her prow.

A lean, handsome young man, his skin deeply tanned and his blond hair bleached nearly white by the sun, leaped nimbly to the dock to secure the boat. Meanwhile, Chet began passing food supplies to Joe. "Meet Jim Weston. Jim, these are the two mystery hounds I told you about. Frank and Joe Hardy."

The three shook hands. Then each took an armful of packages and walked toward the cabin. Frank and Joe quickly sized up Chet's new friend. Weston appeared to be about twenty-two years old. The brothers liked his firm handshake, and his clear, open gaze.

"Careful!" Chet cried out to Joe. "Those are eggs! And be sure you put this meat in the refrigerator right away!"

"Okay, okay, old lady," Joe retorted.

Watching from the porch, Grafton chuckled. Jim in turn looked startled at the unshaven, poorly dressed old cowboy at the other end of the porch.

The Chemical Fog 155

"Say," he said in a low voice to the Hardys, "I thought something top secret was going on here."

"I see what you mean." Frank laughed. "That's part of the secret. Jim, meet Willard Grafton, the Los Angeles industrialist!"

Courteously Grafton got up and extended his hand. "How do you do?" The strong grip and the rich, full voice of a younger man puzzled poor Weston all the more.

Smiling, Frank explained. "Mr. Grafton had to change his appearance drastically for his own safety."

After a late, quick lunch, Frank, Joe, and their three companions spent the afternoon discussing the next move. It was concluded that any more daytime operations might make them targets for the enemy. They would wait until evening.

"Suppose I go up tonight and get some shots of the whole area," Jim suggested. "My ship's nearby at the Ripley airstrip, and my developing equipment is there in a garage. If the photos show anything suspicious, we can get back to Blythe or over to Arizona right away to investigate."

"Sounds fine," Frank approved. "Have you room for Joe and me?"

"Sure thing. My ship's a three-seater."

When the afternoon was waning, Chet spoke up on the subject nearest to his heart. "Say, everybody, it's getting toward suppertime. I bought some especially good provisions-"

156 Mystery of the Desert Giant

Joe winked at the others. "Don't mind us, Chet. Start cooking any time."

A gloomy look settled on their chum's round face. "Just when I was hoping for a decent meal. You know I can't cook worth anything. Eating is what I'm good at."

Willard Graf ton exploded with laughter. "And I believe you, Chet! I'm not much on eating, myself, but I like to cook. Suppose we make a deal?"

Much to the satisfaction of everyone, Grafton soon proved that he knew food as well as he knew horses and ponies. He gave each person a job to do, and within an hour a tasty spaghetti supper, prepared with Grafton's own special sauce, was on the table.

"Know something?" Frank asked his brother in an undertone as the five friends took a stroll toward the dock. "This is doing Grafton a lot of good. I think he's really enjoying himself. Maybe we can convince him the world is not so bad, if we keep at it."

For some time the whole party had been aware of the drone of an airplane flying nearby. Now the sound suddenly increased to a terrifying, deafening roar as the craft headed toward them. It seemed as if the plane would crash right into the little cabin! But it zoomed away.

"What's that fool doing, buzzing us?" Jim Weston cried angrily.

The Chemical Fog 157

The ship, a small biplane, started around in a wide, banking turn.

"Looks like one of those crop-dusting crates," Jim said. "Here he comes again!"

"Look out!"

This time the strange aircraft came in trailing a thick, spreading, grayish cloud. The Hardys and their friends raced for the cabin but could not make it. They were enveloped in a blinding, choking chemical fog. They could see nothing, but could hear the mysterious plane roaring in for another pass.

"Hit the dirt!" Frank cried out, and coughing violently, he flung himself to the ground.

Immediately the earth was rocked by a terrific blast. The tinkle of shattered glass mingled with the noise of the airplane as it pulled away.