Trouble in the Pipeline Read Online Free
Author: Franklin W. Dixon
river's edge. "Great," he said. "Now all we need is something to cook."
"How about fish?" Joe smiled.
"But how are you — ?"
"Wait. A little trust, please. Genius at work."
Joe whipped his belt off, cut the buckle away, then pried its pin free. He began to rub the small piece of metal back and forth until he'd sharpened it into a point. With another rock he gently hammered the pin into a hook shape.
"There you go — one grade-B, size-ten fishhook," he declared, proudly holding it up for Frank to see.
"All right," Frank said. "Now let's tie some string to it and — uh - oh, no string."
Joe held up a finger. "It's a good thing I'm here." He yanked up some clumps of sparse grass and began braiding it into a few feet of line.
While Joe was busy, Frank hunted for bait. Among the alders he found grubs.
Joe dropped the baited hook into the stream and it quickly disappeared under the swift water.
The line twitched almost instantly. Then, in a flash, there was a fierce tug, and the line was pulled tight.
"I've got a bite," Joe yelled excitedly.
"Get him in fast," Frank called. "Don't give him time to bite the line or rub it on a rock!"
Joe walked straight back from the edge of the ' river, holding his hands high above his head. The fish followed and flopped onto the rocky bank — a huge, fat northern pike.
Frank scooped up the fish in his bare hands. Removing the hook, he held it up.
"Must be at least four pounds," Joe gloated, coming over for a closer look. While Frank built a fire, Joe cleaned the catch, casually tossing the guts toward the stream.
After building a little grill out of wet alder sticks, they roasted the fish quickly. The meat was moist and flavorful and hot enough to burn their fingers as they picked it apart. Just as they were finishing, the quiet of the sunlit night was interrupted by the sound of someone splashing along the river's edge. A large brown bear.
"Got the revolver?" Joe whispered. "In the tent," Frank said, not taking his eyes ' from the lumbering beast. "I'll get it." He moved quickly and silently and returned holding the gun down by his thigh. "I don't know if it'll do much damage in this case."
"You may be right." Joe kept his eyes on the bear, who continued waddling downstream toward them. "It'd probably do just enough to make him mad. Is it a grizzly?" "Looks like it," Frank answered. "It's got that kind of silver fur around its throat." He glanced at the fire. "It probably smelled the fish. Where'd you put the guts?"
"I threw them in the — " Joe stopped suddenly, staring. The fish guts had landed on a nearby rock. "Uh - oh."
"Nice going," Frank said. "Let's sneak into the tent. Maybe he'll eat the guts and go away."
They inched backward toward the tent. The bear came right up to the fish guts. In one gulp, he licked them up. Then, twitching his nose, he headed for what was left of the fish beside the fire.
"He's coming nearer," Joe whispered, eyes wide.
The bear had obviously caught Joe's and Frank's scents. Abruptly it rose up on its hind legs, throwing a shadow thirty feet long that fell like night over the boys. No one breathed. Time was frozen for a second.
Then Frank raised the gun. The movement attracted the beast, and the unnatural silence was shattered with one giant roar as the grizzly began its charge!
Chapter 4
FRANK STOOD HIS ground and, arms extended, took careful aim before squeezing off a single shot. Nothing! Only a click — the gun was jammed. The bear kept coming.
Then a second later a gunshot blast cut through the air. Frank and Joe didn't stop to think where it had come from because their eyes were still on the bear. It quit its attack, stood on its hind legs, and rolled its massive head to find the distraction. Coming up the riverbank were a man and a dog. The man had a rifle in his hands, pointed straight up. Another gunshot, and the bear whoofed once and fled.
The man waved, and the Hardys managed a quick nod of their heads. Holding his
"How about fish?" Joe smiled.
"But how are you — ?"
"Wait. A little trust, please. Genius at work."
Joe whipped his belt off, cut the buckle away, then pried its pin free. He began to rub the small piece of metal back and forth until he'd sharpened it into a point. With another rock he gently hammered the pin into a hook shape.
"There you go — one grade-B, size-ten fishhook," he declared, proudly holding it up for Frank to see.
"All right," Frank said. "Now let's tie some string to it and — uh - oh, no string."
Joe held up a finger. "It's a good thing I'm here." He yanked up some clumps of sparse grass and began braiding it into a few feet of line.
While Joe was busy, Frank hunted for bait. Among the alders he found grubs.
Joe dropped the baited hook into the stream and it quickly disappeared under the swift water.
The line twitched almost instantly. Then, in a flash, there was a fierce tug, and the line was pulled tight.
"I've got a bite," Joe yelled excitedly.
"Get him in fast," Frank called. "Don't give him time to bite the line or rub it on a rock!"
Joe walked straight back from the edge of the ' river, holding his hands high above his head. The fish followed and flopped onto the rocky bank — a huge, fat northern pike.
Frank scooped up the fish in his bare hands. Removing the hook, he held it up.
"Must be at least four pounds," Joe gloated, coming over for a closer look. While Frank built a fire, Joe cleaned the catch, casually tossing the guts toward the stream.
After building a little grill out of wet alder sticks, they roasted the fish quickly. The meat was moist and flavorful and hot enough to burn their fingers as they picked it apart. Just as they were finishing, the quiet of the sunlit night was interrupted by the sound of someone splashing along the river's edge. A large brown bear.
"Got the revolver?" Joe whispered. "In the tent," Frank said, not taking his eyes ' from the lumbering beast. "I'll get it." He moved quickly and silently and returned holding the gun down by his thigh. "I don't know if it'll do much damage in this case."
"You may be right." Joe kept his eyes on the bear, who continued waddling downstream toward them. "It'd probably do just enough to make him mad. Is it a grizzly?" "Looks like it," Frank answered. "It's got that kind of silver fur around its throat." He glanced at the fire. "It probably smelled the fish. Where'd you put the guts?"
"I threw them in the — " Joe stopped suddenly, staring. The fish guts had landed on a nearby rock. "Uh - oh."
"Nice going," Frank said. "Let's sneak into the tent. Maybe he'll eat the guts and go away."
They inched backward toward the tent. The bear came right up to the fish guts. In one gulp, he licked them up. Then, twitching his nose, he headed for what was left of the fish beside the fire.
"He's coming nearer," Joe whispered, eyes wide.
The bear had obviously caught Joe's and Frank's scents. Abruptly it rose up on its hind legs, throwing a shadow thirty feet long that fell like night over the boys. No one breathed. Time was frozen for a second.
Then Frank raised the gun. The movement attracted the beast, and the unnatural silence was shattered with one giant roar as the grizzly began its charge!
Chapter 4
FRANK STOOD HIS ground and, arms extended, took careful aim before squeezing off a single shot. Nothing! Only a click — the gun was jammed. The bear kept coming.
Then a second later a gunshot blast cut through the air. Frank and Joe didn't stop to think where it had come from because their eyes were still on the bear. It quit its attack, stood on its hind legs, and rolled its massive head to find the distraction. Coming up the riverbank were a man and a dog. The man had a rifle in his hands, pointed straight up. Another gunshot, and the bear whoofed once and fled.
The man waved, and the Hardys managed a quick nod of their heads. Holding his
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