The Sting of the Scorpion
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
CHAPTER I - An Elephant Vanishes
CHAPTER II - X Marks the Spot
CHAPTER III - A Trumpeting Tusker
CHAPTER IV - Wheel Trouble
CHAPTER V - Queen of the Skies
CHAPTER VI - Jungle Man
CHAPTER VII - Cave Camp
CHAPTER VIII - A Dangerous Dummy
CHAPTER IX - Sky Show
CHAPTER X - Mole Mystery
CHAPTER XI - The Knobby-Nosed Peddler
CHAPTER XII - Green Shadow
CHAPTER XIII - The Sea-Faring Stranger
CHAPTER XIV - The Yelping Lion
CHAPTER XV - Aunt Gertrude’s Prisoner
CHAPTER XVI - The Scorpio Symbol
CHAPTER XVII - A Saboteur Surfaces
CHAPTER XVIII - A Fast Fadeout
CHAPTER XIX - A Fiery Trick
CHAPTER XX - Stalled Takeoff
THE STING OF THE SCORPION
During Mr. Hardy’s investigation of a ruthless gang of terrorists, Frank and Joe witness an explosion in the sky near an airborne dirigible owned by Quinn Air Fleet. They decide to look into the matter. The first clue takes them into a new animal park outside Bayport, where they are lured into a trap by an unknown enemy.
Pop Carter, the park’s owner, has problems, too. He is being pressured into selling out by a competitor as well as a real-estate firm that wants the land for other purposes. At the same time, strange occurrences frighten both visitors and animals.
Frank and Joe are warned to stay out of the case, but follow up another clue. It leads them to an abandoned island, where they barely escape severe injury. When they return, they find a threatening message on their front door, written in an Oriental language. Do they have to contend with yet another adversary? They face danger from all sides, but their superior sleuthing skills and their courage win out in the end, when they unravel the threats of this many-faceted mystery.
Chet yelled in fright as he plunged to the ground.
PRINTED ON RECYCLED PAPER
Copyright © 1979 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved.
Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam & Grosset
Group, New York. Published simultaneously in Canada. S.A.
THE HARDY BOYS® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.
eISBN : 978-1-101-07667-5
2005 Printing
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CHAPTER I
An Elephant Vanishes
THE roar of an engine passing overhead vibrated through the Hardy house on Elm street one June morning.
“What in the world is that?” said Frank Hardy, who had just finished breakfast. “Sure doesn’t sound like an airplane!”
“Let’s find out!” exclaimed his younger brother. Blond and impetuous, Joe Hardy leaped up from the table.
Dark-haired Frank followed. They rushed out on the porch to peer up at the sky. A gleaming silver airship was sailing over Bayport.
“It’s the Safari Queen!” shouted Joe.
“She was never that loud before.” Frank frowned. “I wonder if they’ve got engine trouble?”
Seventeen-year-old Joe shaded his eyes against the sunshine and watched the huge airship anxiously, while his brother hurried inside for binoculars. The Safari Queen, biggest craft of its kind since the ill-fated Hindenburg, had aroused the keen interest and hopes of all lighter-than-air enthusiasts.
Frank returned and focused the glasses. “Oh, no!” he cried out. “Something fell out of the gondola!”
A vivid flash dazzled the boys’ vision. A boom like thunder reached their ears, and billowing clouds of smoke blotted the airship from sight.
“Maybe the Queen exploded!” Joe gasped.
But the dirigible soon became visible again as the smoke cleared. Something else could be seen —and it caused the boys to stare in horror.
An elephant was plunging from the sky!
“I d-don’t believe it!” stuttered Joe, who could discern the creature even without binoculars. The words were hardly out of his mouth when another explosion startled the brothers.
“The elephant blew up!” Frank exclaimed in a shocked voice. He lowered the glasses and the two boys exchanged stunned glances.
“I heard on the TV news that the Queen was bringing a load of wild African animals on this trip,” Joe said, “for that new animal park, Wild World. But I never thought one would fall overboard!”
“If it really did,” Frank added thoughtfully.
“What do you mean? We both saw it happen.”
“Yes, but I was watching through binoculars and, you know, there was something funny about that elephant.”
“Funny? What’s funny about an animal blowing up?” Joe demanded indignantly.
“Nothing. But I’m not sure that it was a real animal.”
“You think we were seeing things?”
“Of course not. But somehow that elephant looked—” Frank paused and scratched his head, “Well, I don’t know, sort of stiff and unnatural.”
“You mean, like a dummy?” Joe asked with an expression of quickening interest.
Frank nodded, frowning. “I guess so—a stuffed animal, or something like that.”
“But why would anyone pull such a trick?”
“Search me. A publicity gimmick, maybe?”
Joe snapped his fingers. “Hey, that’s an idea. Wild World just opened recently. Maybe someone thought this would attract customers to the park.”
“Could be,” Frank agreed. “But if you’re right, I’d say whoever dreamed it up has weird taste in publicity stunts.”
The dirigible seemed to be proceeding smoothly on course with no further sign of trouble. But the two explosions and the loud engine sound, compared to the Queen’s normally silent flight, were alarming. The falling elephant added an even stranger touch.
“Let’s go watch her land, and find out what happened!” Joe suggested.
“Good idea!”
The Hardy boys were fond of mysteries, and this one looked intriguing. They were heading for their car when the mailman came along. He had watched the startling sky scene, as had several other people in the area.
“What did you make of those blasts up there, fellows?” he asked, handing Joe a batch of letters.
“We can’t figure them out,” Joe replied. “But we intend to go and see.”
“Leave it to you two.” The postman chuckled.
Frank and Joe, both star athletes at Bayport High, were the sons of Fenton Hardy, a former New York City police detective who had retired from the force and was now a world-famous private investigator. His two boys already showed signs of following in their father’s footsteps. Their most recent mystery, The Firebird Rocket, had taken the young sleuths to Australia on the trail of a missing space scientist.
Joe glanced through the letters the mailman had handed him and plucked out one addressed to The Hardy Boys. He went inside and tossed the others on the hall table, then hurried to join his brother, who was already easing their car down the drive. Soon they were bowling along toward the Quinn Air Fleet terminal, just north of town, where the airship would dock.
“Too bad this had to happen,” Frank remarked as he steered the car through traffic. “Those explosions may start people thinking all over again that dirigibles are unsafe.”
“True,” Joe agreed. “It could set back the whole lighter-than-air movement.”
The fiery crash of the Hindenburg, decades before, had ended dirigible development for many years. But the successful maid
en voyage of the Safari Queen, which was the first of several such craft to be built for the Quinn Air Fleet, had raised hopes for a new generation of airships. Today’s incident might dash those hopes.
As the boys approached the terminal, the number of cars heading toward the scene increased to a massive traffic jam, with drivers and passengers gawking at the fenced-in grounds of the Quinn Air Fleet base.
The dirigible was now nosed into her mooring mast, a stubby domed tower especially designed for quick, convenient debarking of the passengers.
“Looks okay,” Joe reported, craning out the car window for a better view.
“Thank goodness,” Frank said in relief. “I’ll bet half these people thought they might see another Hindenburg disaster!”
The lines of traffic crawled, bumper to bumper, toward the terminal entrance. Just as the Hardys reached the intersection fronting the gates, the light changed to red. A policeman waved all cars away from the terminal, and the boys realized that their trip had been wasted.
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.
“You’re out of luck, fellows. Can’t let anyone else inside.”
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!”
CHAPTER II
X Marks the Spot
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 l
ike?”
“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?”