Mystery of the Flying Express Read Online Free Page B

joking? How’s the foil and the propeller?” Given asked. Told that they were in good working condition, he stalked back to the bridge.
    â€œReal huff he’s in,” Joe remarked.
    â€œI guess he has a right to be,” Frank said in a low voice. “A detective should know better than to go up on a catwalk alone when he suspects there’s a saboteur on the prowl. We’re here to prevent trouble not to invite it.”
    He stood up shakily as the engine sent vibrations along the metal deck. “By the way, where’s the girl who gave the alarm? I’d like to tell her how grateful I am.”
    They inquired among the passengers, but no one had noticed the girl.
    â€œWas she pretty?” Callie asked, sounding a trifle jealous.
    â€œI didn’t have time to notice,” Frank replied.
    The crowd dispersed slowly and the young detectives stepped down into the rear cabin.
    By now the Flying Express had picked up speed again. The passengers were relieved that the man overboard had been rescued so quickly.
    But they were greatly disturbed by the incident. Complaints and criticism flew back and forth. Would they get to Cape Cutlass on time? No one knew. Would they get there at all?
    The hydrofoil passed dozens of small craft sailing the bay or riding at anchor. The appearance of the big boat caused a sensation. Boys and girls cheered. Women waved gaily colored handkerchiefs. But quite a few skippers shook their fists and glared as the Flying Express flashed by.
    Spencer Given came up behind the Hardys while they were viewing the spectacle. “There!” he erupted violently. “See those fellows on that launch shaking their fists at us? That’s the kind of thing I have to expect. Stay on guard! This trip’s not over by a long shot! We can’t trust anybody who navigates anything on Barmet Bay!”
    â€œWhat about anybody who flies over Barmet Bay?” Joe pointed at a plane overhead. “That guy in the sky is definitely playing tag. He’s been following us right down the bay, sticking to us like a guided missile homing in on target.”
    â€œWonder what’s he up to?” Frank asked.
    The pilot provided the answer. Lining his plane up, with the hydrofoil about a mile astern, he gave it the gun, and swooped down.
    â€œThat plane’s going to crash into us!” someone shouted in terror. Panic broke out. There was a headlong dash for the exit.
    With jaws clenched Frank and Joe waited for the impact, holding on firmly to Callie and Iola.
    â€œOh, Joe, I’m so scared!” Iola shuddered.
    At the last possible moment the pilot leveled out. The plane roared over the hydrofoil from stern to bow, coming so close that the sounds of its engines were deafening.
    â€œNo markings!” Joe registered the fact instantaneously. “They must be covered with tape, otherwise they’d be clearly visible at the altitude that fellow flies!”
    Frank nudged him and pointed to the bottom of the fuselage where a heavy wooden log was fastened with clamps just behind the wheels. The next second the clamps opened and the log plummeted into the sea directly in front of the speeding hydrofoill
    The skipper of the Flying Express twisted the wheel and swung his craft sharply to one side. Some passengers were knocked down; others slid off the seats.
    The big boat shuddered as it turned, but the pilot pulled her bow away from the log. It grazed and bumped the foils on one side, then disappeared astern.
    â€œQuick thinking by the fellow in the wheelhouse!” Frank exclaimed. “If we’d hit that log, the hull might have been staved!”
    â€œThere goes the plane! No hope of identifying him now!” Joe said. “Well, I’d better let Dad know about this incident. I can contact him on Shark Island through the ship’s radiotelephone.”
    Mr. Hardy answered the call. Joe related Frank’s near accident and the plane episode to