Camping Chaos Read online

  CONTENTS

  1 GOING CAMPING

  2 THE INVASION OF THE SWAMP MONSTERS

  3 MYSTERIOUS FOOTPRINTS

  4 THE RETURN OF THE THIEF

  5 THE SIX WS

  6 THE LEGEND OF THE HEADLESS GHOST

  7 A SPY IN THE BUSHES

  8 A SURPRISE SUSPECT

  9 THE CLUE IN THE PHOTOGRAPH

  10 AND THE WINNER IS . . .

  HARDY BOYS COMIC STRIP

  1

  Going Camping

  Dibs on this campsite!” Frank Hardy announced, setting his sleeping bag down.

  “Hey, don’t I get a say? We’re sharing a tent, remember?” his brother, Joe, reminded him.

  “Trust me. This is the perfect spot,” Frank insisted.

  “Why?” Joe asked curiously.

  “It faces the east, so the morning sun will warm us up. And there’s lots of moss and leaves, so it’ll be comfortable to sleep on,” Frank replied.

  “Uh-huh. When did you turn into Mr. Camping Expert?” Joe teased him.

  Frank grinned. “I read all about it in my camping book. Chapter two, ‘Picking the Ideal Campsite.’ ”

  Their friend Phil Cohen set his own sleeping bag down about ten feet away. “Yeah, well, Chet and I picked an even better spot. We used the new camping app on my cell phone.” Phil loved apps, which were like computer programs. He had been obsessed with electronics since he was in first grade.

  “What’s so great about your spot?” Joe asked Phil.

  “Well, the ground here slants a little. So if it rains, the water will wash downhill and not form a puddle under our tent,” Phil explained. “Plus, we have a clear three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view all around us, so we can see any bears or panthers or other predators coming.”

  Chet Morton blinked at Phil. “B-bears? And p-panthers?” he stammered. “Um, maybe we should turn around and go home. . . .”

  “Don’t worry, Chet. There are no bears or panthers in Bayport State Park,” Fenton Hardy said quickly. He glanced at his watch. “Come on. Let’s get busy with our tents. It’s almost time for the welcome meeting over at the main lodge.”

  Mr. Hardy was Frank and Joe’s dad. He had brought the four boys to Bayport State Park for the annual fall Fun with Camping weekend. There would be hiking, canoeing, animal tracking, a tent-decorating contest, and other cool activities.

  Frank pulled his camping book out of his backpack. He opened it to chapter 3, “How to Pitch Your Tent.” He and Joe had pitched tents before, but it was good to get a refresher.

  The brothers worked efficiently. First they cleared the ground of any rocks and branches that might dig into their backs while they slept. Next they laid down a tarp and smoothed it out with their hands. The tarp was waterproof and would prevent rain and other moisture from seeping in.

  After that they inserted metal rods into their tent and popped it up. They set the structure upright on top of the tarp and staked it into the ground using a wooden mallet. Finally, they arranged their sleeping bags, lanterns, flashlights, and other equipment inside.

  When they were done, Frank stepped back to admire their work. It was a perfect home away from home—for the next two nights, anyway!

  Their dad finished pitching his tent on the other side of Frank and Joe’s. Phil and Chet finished pitching their tent too. Then the five of them grabbed their water bottles and set off for the welcome meeting.

  They took a narrow dirt path that meandered through the sun-dappled forest. The leaves on the trees blazed red, gold, and orange. Squirrels scurried around, busily collecting acorns. The air was cool and crisp and smelled like apples. Phil took lots of pictures with his camera phone along the way.

  At the end of the path, they came to a wide clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a large log cabin with a sign that said: GOOSEBERRY LODGE.

  Just outside the lodge, a bunch of kids and their parents sat on tree stumps arranged in a wide circle. Frank recognized Beatrice Lesser and Lina Kim, who were in the fifth grade at Bayport Elementary School. Frank, Phil, and Chet were nine years old and in the fourth grade; Joe was eight and in the third grade.

  The four boys and Mr. Hardy sat down on a row of tree stumps right behind Beatrice and Lina and their parents. Everyone was buzzing excitedly about the weekend. Beatrice and Lina were talking about their matching bright pink tents. A moment later a tall, lanky man in a gray-green ranger’s uniform came into the center of the circle.

  “Hello, everyone! I’m Ranger Gil,” he said in a friendly voice. “I’m glad to see so many of you here for our fall Fun with Camping event. We have lots of great activities lined up for you. But first I want to introduce you to my counselors. They’re both freshmen at Bayport College. Please give it up for Fish and Wendy!”

  Everyone clapped as two older teens stood up and waved. The guy, Fish, was really tall and had spiky brown hair and chunky black glasses. The girl, Wendy, was really short and wore a navy-blue bandana over her messy red curls.

  “I’ve never met anyone named Fish,” Frank whispered to Joe.

  “Maybe his favorite food is fish sticks,” Joe joked.

  Ranger Gil proceeded to go through a long list of important camping rules. They included never using soap in or near streams or ponds and building fires only in existing fireplaces and pits.

  Then he described their schedule for the weekend. “Tonight we’ll have a cookout here at Gooseberry Lodge, followed by our Friday Frightfest movie,” he began. “Tomorrow there’s animal tracking, and Sunday there’s canoeing on Loon Lake. And of course, there’s our big tent-decorating contest!”

  “Did you remember to pack our decorations?” Frank asked Joe in a low voice.

  Joe nodded. “Yup. In my duffel bag.”

  Beatrice turned around. “You guys shouldn’t even bother. I’m totally going to win that contest!” she bragged.

  2

  The Invasion of the Swamp Monsters

  Excuse me?” Joe snapped. He glared at Beatrice.

  Joe didn’t know Beatrice really well, since she was two grades ahead in school. But he’d heard from some of the other kids at Bayport Elementary that she could be a big show-off.

  “Yeah, my tent’s going to be amazing,” Beatrice said with a smirk. “It’s going to have a princess theme!”

  “Well, ours is going to be even better,” Joe shot back. “Our theme is—”

  “Shhh. Let’s let Ranger Gil finish talking,” Mr. Hardy whispered, putting his finger to his lips.

  “. . . you’re all welcome to start decorating your tents before dinner. The deadline for finishing is tomorrow by lunch, and the winner will be announced on Sunday,” Ranger Gil was saying. “So! I’ll see you all back here at five for the cookout. That will be followed by a special screening of The Invasion of the Swamp Monsters inside the lodge.”

  Chet pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! I love that movie. I’ve seen it five times, and I have all the comic books, too.”

  “Big deal. I’ve seen it ten times. And comic books are for babies,” Beatrice said, flipping her long blond hair over her shoulders.

  Chet gave Beatrice a look as though she were crazy. He was a huge comic book fan, and so were Phil and the Hardys.

  “Is Beatrice obnoxious, or what?” Joe muttered to Frank.

  “Just ignore her,” Frank advised.

  As soon as the welcome meeting was over, Joe and his group started back in the direction of their campsites. As they passed the two counselors, Fish and Wendy, Joe heard Fish say: “So this is your first job as a counselor, huh?”

  “Yeah. Got any advice for me?” Wendy asked him.

  “Just make it superfun for the kids,” Fish replied.

  Sounds perfect, Joe thought. He just hoped
that certain campers, like ones named Beatrice, didn’t spoil the fun for everyone else.

  • • • •

  Joe had actually never seen The Invasion of the Swamp Monsters before. As he, Frank, Chet, and Phil huddled together in the darkened lodge snacking on sodas and nacho-cheese-flavored popcorn, Joe found himself more scared than he’d thought he would be. He was secretly glad that his dad was sitting close by, although he would never admit that to anyone.

  All the campers and their parents were in what was called the “great room” of the lodge. At one end of the great room was an enormous stone fireplace. At the other end was a large plasma-screen TV. Maps of the region covered the walls, along with posters about insects, birds, and rocks. There was a glass case filled with snake skins, different kinds of fossils, and a stuffed fox with beady golden eyes.

  Joe liked the great room. He especially liked the snake skins, since he and Frank planned on a snake theme for the tent-decorating contest. In fact, they’d already started decorating before dinner, draping toy snakes over the top of their tent.

  And speaking of slithery, slimy creatures . . .

  A swamp monster appeared on the TV screen. It staggered across the marsh with its dripping wet arms outstretched, ready to attack. Joe grabbed a handful of popcorn and munched intently.

  Just then he felt icy-cold fingers on the back of his neck.

  “Agggghhh!” he yelled.

  The lights snapped on. Joe spun around. A little boy with short, curly brown hair and freckles grinned at him. He was holding a soda can.

  Joe’s cheeks grew hot. So that was what had grazed the back of his neck. How embarrassing was that?

  Ranger Gil hit the pause button on the movie. “What on earth is going on?” he demanded.

  “Did my ginger ale scare you?” the boy asked Joe with a giggle.

  “Garrett! Come over here right this second,” Ranger Gil ordered.

  “But, Daddy, it’s not my fault! My soda can touched him!” Garrett insisted.

  “Over here, now!” Ranger Gil repeated sternly.

  “Oh, okay.” Garrett stood up and shuffled over to his father with a glum expression.

  “Are you all right?” Mr. Hardy asked Joe.

  “Yeah. I just feel dumb,” Joe mumbled.

  After a moment Garrett returned to his seat. “My daddy says I’m supposed to tell you I’m sorry,” he said with a shrug.

  “Apology accepted. Just don’t do that again, okay?” Joe told him.

  “But this movie’s so boooring,” Garrett complained.

  “What? This is, like, the best movie ever! Wait till we get to the part where the swamp monster takes over New York City!” Chet spoke up.

  Ranger Gil turned the lights off and resumed the movie. Joe scooted over so he sat farther away from Garrett. The ranger’s son seemed like trouble. Hopefully, he wouldn’t bother Joe again over the weekend.

  • • • •

  That night Joe tossed and turned in his sleeping bag. The ground was too hard. The air was too chilly. And outside, strange creatures made hissing and howling noises.

  “Psssst! Frank!” Joe whispered. “Are you awake?”

  No reply.

  “Bro!” Joe said more loudly. “Are . . . you . . . awake?”

  Frank snored and rolled over in his sleeping bag.

  The moon lit up the walls of the tent and cast long, eerie shadows onto the boys. Joe eyed the shadows nervously. They’re just trees, he told himself.

  Then one of the shadows moved to the right. Footsteps crunched on the ground.

  Someone—or something—was out there!

  3

  Mysterious Footprints

  Frank! Wake up!” Joe reached over and shook his brother, hard.

  “What?” Frank mumbled groggily, rubbing his eyes. “I was having the best dream ever. We were at the arcade, and I scored a million points on Space Raiders, and—”

  “Forget about that. There’s a person outside our tent. Or maybe it’s a wild animal!” Joe whispered.

  Frank sat up. “Wait, what? How do you know?” he whispered back.

  “Listen!”

  Frank listened. He could hear an owl hooting in the distance. He could also hear Chet muttering in his sleep—something about bears and panthers. Or was it brownies and pizza?

  “There’s nobody out there,” Frank told Joe after a moment.

  “There is! You should go outside and take a look,” Joe suggested.

  “Why don’t you take a look?”

  “Fine! Let’s both go.”

  The brothers scooted up to the front of the tent and peeked through the flaps. Moonlight spilled onto the landscape and illuminated tents, trees, rocks—but nothing else.

  “See?” Frank hissed.

  “I know I heard someone,” Joe insisted. “What if it was the swamp monster?”

  Frank rolled his eyes at Joe and went back to bed.

  • • • •

  The next morning Frank woke up early. He pulled his Bayport Bandits hoodie on over his pajamas, stepped into the sunshine, and stretched. It was going to be a beautiful day.

  He was glad they were spending the weekend at the park. Camping was really awesome!

  Except for the part when your little brother wakes you up in the middle of the night because he’s imagining things, he thought, shaking his head.

  Mr. Hardy, Phil, and Chet were apparently still asleep, as was Joe. Frank decided to make a fire so he could heat up water for hot chocolate. His mom had packed the kind he liked, with the little marshmallows that floated on top. He remembered Ranger Gil’s rule about building fires only in existing fireplaces and pits.

  Frank started for the edge of the forest to collect some wood. Through the trees, he could make out a bunch of other tents in the distance, including two matching bright pink tents. Must be Beatrice’s and Lina’s, he thought.

  Then Frank stopped. There was something on the ground near his and Joe’s tent.

  Footprints.

  He bent down and inspected them closely. They were about the same size as his and Joe’s shoes. But the sole had an unfamiliar pattern. It was a zigzag design, like a lightning bolt.

  Who was hanging around our tent last night—and why? Frank wondered. He saw that the footprints looped in a big circle from the main path, to their tent, and back again.

  Phil and Chet had left their sneakers just outside their tent. Frank picked them up and studied the soles. No lightning-bolt pattern.

  Joe poked his head out of the Hardy boys’ tent. “Why are you up at the crack of dawn?” he called out sleepily.

  “It’s not dawn, lazy. It’s almost seven thirty. Hey, check this out,” Frank said, pointing.

  Joe stepped out of the tent. Frank showed him the footprints.

  “I told you!” Joe exclaimed. “The question is, Who—”

  “What, When, Where, Why, and How?” Frank finished.

  The Hardys were detectives, and they’d solved a lot of mysteries—everything from a zombie sighting to a missing dinosaur fossil. For every case, they wrote down Who, What, When, Where, Why, and How on a whiteboard in the secret tree house that their dad had built for them in their backyard at home.

  Whenever they had a new theory, clue, or other information, they wrote it on the whiteboard under one of the six categories. They’d nicknamed their note-taking method the “six Ws,” even though “How” was not technically a W word.

  Joe circled their tent once, then twice. He stopped in his tracks and frowned.

  “I just figured out the Why,” he announced. “Somebody stole our snake decorations in the middle of the night!”

  “What?”

  Frank scanned the outside of their tent. The night before, he and Joe had decorated it with a bunch of snakes—plastic ones, rubber ones, and even some plush ones too. They’d found them in their attic at home, in a cardboard box labeled OLD TOYS.

  “What are you talking about, Joe? They’re right here!” Frank s
aid.

  “Not all of them,” Joe corrected. “Perry the Python is missing. So are Bob the Boa Constrictor and Andy the Anaconda.”

  Frank did a double take. “Huh. You’re right.”

  “So now we have our What, When, and Where,” Joe noted. “What—stealing snakes. When—between Friday bedtime and Saturday morning. Where—right underneath our noses!”

  “It looks like we have a new case on our hands,” Frank said grimly.

  4

  The Return of the Thief

  A short while later everyone gathered outside Gooseberry Lodge for breakfast. Ranger Gil made pancakes and bacon on the grill while the counselors, Fish and Wendy, passed out cups of apple cider.

  Joe noticed Beatrice and Lina huddled together and whispering. At one point Beatrice glanced over her shoulder at Joe and said something to Lina. Then the two of them got up and took off.

  Were they talking about me? Joe wondered.

  He piled a plate high with pancakes and sat down on a tree stump next to Frank. “I don’t like fifth-grade girls,” he muttered.

  “Never mind that. I have an idea about how we can solve this case,” Frank said in a low voice.

  Joe folded a pancake in half and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. Maple syrup dribbled down his chin; he wiped it off with the back of his sleeve. “How?” he mumbled with his mouth half-full.

  “You know that bank robbery case Dad worked on?”

  Joe frowned, trying to remember. He wasn’t sure which bank robbery case Frank was talking about. Their father was a private investigator who’d consulted with the Bayport Police on dozens of cases. Before that he’d been a member of the NYPD—the New York Police Department.

  “Remind me,” Joe said, picking up another pancake.

  “Last summer Dad solved a bank robbery case. His only clue was the footprint the robber left behind at the Bayport National Bank,” Frank said. “There was a funny pattern on the sole, like crisscrossed arrows. It turned out only one store in town carried that kind of shoe. And the store owner remembered selling a pair to the robber. He gave Dad a description of the robber and a copy of the receipt and everything.”