Typhoon Island Read Online Free

to his pen stood open, the marks of the bull’s horns scarring the white-painted wood.
    El Diablo focused his bloodshot eyes on the stunned Americans and charged.
    Frank and Joe dropped their bags and pushed their girlfriends out of the way as the bull thundered past. The beast passed between them, barely missing the Hardys. The circle of the crowd around the teens grew wider every moment, forming a livingbullring, with the four friends trapped in the center.
    El Diablo wheeled around, looked at the Hardys, and lowered his head once again. The bull stomped the earth and shook his horns from side to side like a swordsman limbering up.
    “Run!” Frank said to Callie and Iola. “We can hold him off until you get away.”
    “But what about you?” Callie asked, fear in her brown eyes.
    “We’ll be okay,” Joe said. “You two get out of here.”
    “Come on, Callie,” Iola said, frantically pulling her friend away from the center of the impromptu arena.
    Frank and Joe kept their eyes fixed on El Diablo. The bull snorted and glowered back.
    “Some vacation,” Joe said quietly to his brother. “Any ideas?”
    Frank shook his head.
    El Diablo charged. Again Frank and Joe darted out of the way, and the bull passed between them.
    “He won’t fall for that again,” Frank said as the bull wheeled around to face them once more.
    “Too bad I left my red cape at home,” Joe replied.
    “Hey! Toro!” called a voice from nearby. El Diablo turned toward the sound.
    Standing near the edge of the crowd was a young man with short, curly black hair. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt. In his outstretched hands he held a ragged jean jacket. He waved the jacket likea matadors cape. “Hey, toro!” he repeated.
    “Hey, toro!” said another voice. The Hardys turned and saw Jorge Tejeda with his jacket off as well. The politician waved his white coat at the enraged animal.
    The bull glanced from the Hardys to the two mock matadors, unable to decide whom to charge.
    “These guys have the right idea,” Joe said. “Too bad we’re not wearing jackets.”
    “I think it’s the movement that attracts the bull, not the cape,” Frank said.
    Joe’s blue eyes gleamed. “Let’s find out,” he said. Raising his arms, he stepped farther away from Frank and shouted, “Hey, toro !”
    Frank stepped in the opposite direction, yelling, “Hey, bull! Hey, bull!”
    Confused, the animal stamped the ground, glancing from man to man. He turned in circles, trying to find the best opponent.
    The teen with the jean jacket jumped close to the beast, waving his “cape” in the bull’s face. The bull lunged at him, but he danced back out of the way.
    “Hey, Frank, I’ve got an idea,” Joe said. “Follow my lead and be ready to close that gate.”
    As Frank nodded the younger Hardy stripped off his T-shirt and moved closer to the enraged animal. “Yo! Toro!” he called, placing himself between El Diablo and the bull’s pen.
    The bull turned away from the jean-clad youth,who had danced farther out of the way, and focused on Joe.
    The younger Hardy backed toward the open pen, waving his shirt and saying, “Toro! Toro! Toro!”
    The bull charged. Joe turned and sprinted toward the pen, El Diablo in hot pursuit. Frank realized what Joe was doing, and ran toward the side of the pen where the gate stood open.
    “Crazy Americano!” shouted Jorge Tejeda as the bull closed in on Joe.
    Joe could almost feel El Diablo’s hot breath on his back as he ran into the pen. He didn’t dare look back; the enraged beast might catch him if he did. He heard an angry snort and the animal’s hooves thundering closer.
    At the last second Joe threw himself sideways, vaulting over the pen’s fence.
    El Diablo bellowed with rage, having lost his victim. Frank slammed the gate shut behind the bull, trapping El Diablo in the pen.
    A cheer went up from the crowd as the elder Hardy raced to his brother’s side. “Are you okay, Joe?” he asked.
    Joe got up and