Mystery of the Desert Giant Read Online Free

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.
    â€œHello, Cooper. Never could use one of these things!”
    Smiling, Frank Hardy stepped forward. “Allow me, sir.” He pressed the lever that allowed the carriage to slide back and forth.
    â€œHumph!” the man grunted. “Thanks, my boy. ”Who is this?” he asked, turning to the man named Cooper.
    â€œThat 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.”
    â€œWhy, that’s where our information came from —by long-distance phone call!”
    â€œBut not from anyone in authority,” Frank insisted. “And why wasn’t the message teletyped?”
    â€œYou 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.
    â€œAbout three months ago now.” Mr. Smith nodded. “Made quite a stir hereabouts. Never did find him, did they?”
    â€œNo, 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 therel I’m starving! I want to eat!”
    â€œThere’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 door-frame.
    â€œSomebody 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 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.
    â€œOh—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.
    â€œWhat a sky!” Chet exclaimed enthusiastically. “Somehow it looks bigger than it does back home.”
    â€œIt’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