The Sting of the Scorpion (2 page)

The officer spotted them and came over to exchange a few words while they were stopped.

“I'm afraid you're out of luck, fellows. Can't let anyone else inside. Too big a tieup.”

“Was the
Queen
damaged?” Frank asked.

“Nope. They haven't figured out yet what caused the explosions, but apparently they didn't do any harm.”

“What about the elephant that fell overboard?” Joe put in.

“The word I get is, all animals are safe and accounted for,” replied the officer, taking off his hat to mop his brow. “The whole thing's a total mystery—right up your alley.”

“Boy,
what
a mystery!” Joe agreed.

“Say hello to your dad for me,” the officer added.

“Will do,” Frank promised as the light changed and the policeman walked off.

The boys were just getting past the worst of the traffic jam when a light flashed and the dashboard radio buzzer sounded. Joe switched on the speaker and lifted the mike. “Hardy here. Come in, please.”

“G calling F and J.” It was the voice of their spinster aunt, Fenton Hardy's sister Gertrude.

“What's up, Aunty?” Joe inquired.

“I've just had a code message from your father.

He wants you two to stand by for a phone call at one-thirty.”

“We'll be there,” Joe replied. “Any idea what it's about?”

“Something dangerous, I suspect,” Miss Hardy stated darkly. “He said to beware of the scorpion's sting!”

“Okay, Aunt Gertrude, we'll be careful.”

“See that you are! Over and out.”

“What's that about a scorpion?” Frank asked, puzzled, as his brother hung up the mike.

“Search me. But that reminds me, we got another message this morning.” From his hip pocket Joe pulled the letter that had come in the mail, and he tore open the envelope. Inside was a colored folder.

“Who's it from?” Frank inquired, his eyes still on the road ahead.

“There's no name or anything. Just a brochure from Wild World, the kind they hand out to visitors. Wait a second,” Joe added as he opened the folder. “There
are
markings inside.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there's a map of the park layout, and someone penciled in a diagram of the area right near the lion enclosure.”

Frank pulled over to the curb to look. “What's this X-mark for, labeled ‘hollow tree'?” He frowned.

“Maybe something's hidden inside the tree,” Joe suggested, “and whoever sent this wants us to go there and find it.”

“Funny way to tip us off.”

“Sure is. It could be a practical joke.”

Frank nodded. “But I think we should check it out. It may be connected with a case Dad's working on.”

“Right.”

Wild World was located on the coast of Barmet Bay, between the town of Bayport and the Quinn air terminal. Summer vacation had begun just a few days ago, and the park was crowded with people.

After driving through the entrance gateway, Frank turned left into one of the parking areas. He and Joe were getting out of their car when once again their radio buzzer sounded.

“Hardys here,” Joe responded, almost expecting to hear another bulletin from their aunt.

Instead, a male voice came over the speaker. It sounded disguised. “If you want an important crime tip, meet me as soon as possible!”

“Who's this?”

“Never mind. Are you interested or not?”

Joe shot a glance at Frank, who nodded. “We're interested,” the younger Hardy replied.

“Then go through the woods near the park opposite the entrance. Head for Spire Rock. It's a tall pointy rock formation, sticking up through the trees.”

“We see it.”

“I'll meet you there. Make it snappy. And don't tell anyone!” The transmission ended abruptly.

As Joe replaced the microphone, he looked questioningly at his brother. “Another practical joke?”

“We'll soon find out,” Frank declared. “Let's go!”

Crossing the graveled parking lot, the boys plunged into the wooded area their unknown caller had indicated. They followed a narrow trail, winding among the trees. Suddenly they heard a rustling noise behind them. Before the Hardys could glance around, each felt something hard jammed against his back.

“Freeze—both of you!” a gruff voice barked in their ears. “One wrong move and you're dead!”

 

 

 

 

FRANK and Joe glanced at each other from the corners of their eyes. Both were wondering the same thing. Had they walked into a trap, or was this the punch line of a joke someone was playing on them? In either case, was it safe to turn their heads and find out?

As if reading their minds, someone behind them—a different voice this time—snarled, “We don't want to hurt you, but the first one who tries looking around will get
this
bounced off his skull!”

A hand slid between them, displaying a nasty-looking leather-covered blackjack to emphasize the speaker's warning.

“Okay, we get the message,” Frank said curtly. “What do you want?”

“Put your hands on your heads, where we can see 'em, and start walking toward those beech trees over to the left of the trail.”

The boys obeyed, pressing forward through the dense vegetation without a word, though they were sizzling with anger. Each was ordered to lean against a tree, supporting himself with his upraised hands, as if for a police frisking.

“Now get this, and we'll only tell you once,” the gruff voice warned. “You two keep your noses out of the
Safari Queen
trouble!”

“And don't take on any new cases,” the second voice added threateningly. “Understand?”

“We heard you,” Frank replied coldly, controlling his anger. “Is that all?”

“That's all for now, punk. Just remember what I said!”

The first voice chimed in again. “And don't turn around for the next five minutes. Just stay like you are—if you want to walk away from here alive!”

The Hardys listened as footsteps moved away from them through the underbrush. As soon as the sounds had faded, they glanced at each other, then lowered their hands and looked behind them.

“Those wise guys!” Joe fumed. “They may have been bluffing all along!”

“Maybe and maybe not.” Frank shrugged. “They had the upper hand, and remember what Dad always says. No smart detective takes unnecessary chances.”

“Think we should try to trail them?”

“And risk stumbling into another ambush? No thanks,” Frank said. “With all this brush, we can see only a few yards in any direction. And think of all the people strolling around the park just beyond this screen of trees. How can we spot the guys who braced us when we don't even know what they look like?”

“You're right,” Joe said bitterly. “But in that case, what chance have we to nail them?”

“Whoever they were, they must be mixed up in the
Safari Queen
mystery,” his brother reasoned. “That gives us one lead to work on.”

The Hardys decided to continue along the trail to Spire Rock, though it seemed certain the radio call had been a trick to set them up for what had just happened. The odd upthrusting rock formation was surrounded by a small clearing. Nearby was a public fountain at which a woman and two small children were drinking water.

No one else was in sight.

“Looks as if we wasted our time,” grumbled Joe.

Just then three figures burst out of the bushes behind the boys.

“You wanted a crime tip—try this!” growled a voice, and the tip of a finger jabbed Joe hard in the ribs.

The Hardys whirled around, chuckling in spite of themselves. Both had recognized the voice of their chubby pal, Chet Morton. Two more of their high school buddies were with him, big rangy Biff Hooper and dark-haired, bookish Phil Cohen.

“Wow! Did you guys ever fall for that one!” Chet exulted. His plump cheeks jiggled as he bobbed up and down in sheer high spirits, poking Joe playfully.

“You're nuts!” Frank grinned. “You mean it was one of you who broadcast that phony radio message?”

“Who else?” Biff grinned back. “We saw you pull into the parking lot, and decided to feed you a little excitement.”

“And you fell hook, line, and sinker!” Chet went on, rubbing it in. Then he paused to wipe the perspiration brought on by his cavorting from his moon-shaped face.

“After all,” Phil added, “it's been at least a week since your last mystery, hasn't it?”

“That's what you think,” Joe said wryly. “Matter of fact we've got a new one on our hands just since we left the parking lot.”

Their friends were startled when they heard how the Hardys had been waylaid en route to Spire Rock.

“I don't get it,” said Biff with a puzzled frown. “How could those hoods have known you'd be going through the woods just at that time?”

“They must have heard you broadcast the message,” Joe deduced. “Where were you calling from?”

“The parking lot on the other side of the entrance you pulled into. Right after Phil spotted you, we used the CB radio in Tony Prito's pickup truck.”

“Did you notice anyone eavesdropping?”

Biff looked at Phil and Chet. All three thought for a moment, then shook their heads.

“I guess not,” Biff concluded. “But that doesn't prove much. There were people all around us, hopping in and out of cars. We were getting such a bang out of fooling you, we probably wouldn't have noticed, anyway.”

“Where's Tony?” Frank inquired.

“He had to help his dad on some construction work.” Biff explained that he and the others had come to Wild World to apply for jobs as park attendants in response to an ad in the Sunday paper. Although Tony .had to leave as soon as they filled out their forms and were interviewed, Chet, Biff, and Phil had decided to stick around and enjoy the rides in the park's amusement area. “How about you guys?” he asked. “Did you come to apply, too?”

“Nope.” Joe grinned, teasing. “We came to check out an X-mark on a map.”

Their chums' curiosity was immediately aroused. When the Hardys showed them the mysterious folder that had arrived in the mail, their three friends insisted on coming with them to inspect the hollow tree.

Although Wild World was surrounded by a high chain-link fence, the animal park proper was also partitioned off from the amusement area. To reach the spot indicated on the map, the Hardys' car would have to take its place in the line of vehicles cruising slowly along the road that wound through the animal range. A sign above the gateway warned spectators not to leave their cars.

“That X-mark better not be a gag,” Chet grumbled as they paid their admission fare through the car window to an attendant with a coin changer on his belt. “This ride's costing us money.”

“Don't worry. You'll get your money's worth just seeing the animals,” Joe said.

“You bet!” Phil piped up enthusiastically. “I went through with my whole family a couple of weeks ago. It's almost like a trip through an African game preserve!”

His words were borne out as they passed in close view of grazing giraffes, ostriches, and gazelles. The sights were impressive. Many spectators pulled off the road to photograph the animals, and Joe wished he had brought his camera.

One ostrich gulped a peanut Biff tossed out the window. The creature seemed to take a fancy to him and raced alongside the car, keeping up easily with long loping strides of its knobby legs.

“Careful. I think it's fallen for you!” Frank joked. “Either that or it's hungry.”

Biff hastily pulled back from the window. “Better get my head in before it gives me a peck on the cheek!”

“Serve you right for wasting good peanuts,” said Chet, munching. He and Biff had each bought a bagful outside the gate, and the chubby youth was busily cracking the shells and popping goobers into his mouth.

“Boy, all you need's a good monkey suit, and you'd make a great addition to this park,” Phil wisecracked.

“Listen, I haven't had a thing to eat since breakfast,” Chet said defensively.

Joe glanced back from the front seat. “When was that, an hour ago?”

“Hey, we're coming to lion country!” Biff exclaimed, peering ahead over the Hardy boys' shoulders.