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  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1: Zip It!

  Chapter 2: Fright Flight

  Chapter 3: This Is Your Commander Speaking

  Chapter 4: Bear Bait

  Chapter 5: Ghost Stories

  Chapter 6: Bear Raid

  Chapter 7: Stranded

  Chapter 8: Hunted

  Chapter 9: Tuna Surprise

  Chapter 10: In Demantoid

  Chapter 11: It’s a Trap

  Chapter 12: Maxed Out

  Chapter 13: The Girl with the Bear Tattoo

  Chapter 14: A Bridge Too High

  Chapter 15: Trust Fall

  Chapter 16: Man Overboard

  Chapter 17: Mayday! Mayday!

  Chapter 18: High Dive

  Chapter 19: Catch of the Day

  Chapter 20: Resolution River

  Bound for Danger Excerpt

  About Franklin W. Dixon

  1

  ZIP IT!

  JOE

  I COULD STILL HEAR MY brother’s screams echoing across the river valley as a woman with a bear-paw tattoo shoved me off the ledge and sent me hurtling after him.

  And it was awesome!

  My body rocketed through the atmosphere at fifty miles per hour, with the wind punching me in the face so hard, my eyes watered. Just when it seemed like I might plummet to my death, I started zipping straight ahead, my feet gliding over the treetops like I was surfing on air. Only this wasn’t a dream or a video game. It was spring break!

  The zip line shot me over a lush mountain valley toward the rustic lodge just across the river where Frank and the rest of the Bayport High Green Environment Conservation Club (GECC, or, as we liked to call ourselves, the Geccos) were getting ready for our camping expedition to a nearby scientific research station. From my bird’s-eye view, I could see all the way upstream past a thundering waterfall and miles of rolling hills to our destination atop the tallest, most forbidding peak, Black Bear Mountain.

  “Yee-haw!” I hollered as I zipped over the river toward the landing platform.

  Normally, I wouldn’t get this excited about spending spring break on a school trip with one of Frank’s nerdy clubs, but most nerdy school trips don’t involve staying someplace as cool as Bear Foot Lodge for part of it. They also don’t usually include a pair of girls as cute as “the Ms,” which was what everyone called BFFs Mandy and Melissa. I’d been trying to catch Mandy’s eye, and I know Melissa had already caught Frank’s.

  I’d talked him into doing the zip line to impress her, but judging from how loudly he’d screamed and how pale he was when I reached the bottom, I think my plan may have backfired.

  “Why did I let you talk me into that?” he asked as I unhooked myself from the zip line’s harness.

  “Because we’re Hardys,” I replied. “And Hardys never back down from a challenge.”

  “Chasing bad guys and solving crimes is one thing,” he said, referring to our sideline as Bayport’s foremost teenage detectives. “Voluntarily jumping off a cliff is another.”

  “I’m with you, Frank,” Mandy said, brushing back her long auburn hair. “I’m ready to leave all this daredevil stuff behind and check out Dr. Kroopnik’s research station.”

  “That’s because you guys are a couple of total nerds,” Melissa said, playfully pushing her best friend.

  Oh no! It looked like Frank and I had crushes on the wrong Ms!

  “Right!?” I agreed with Melissa. “I don’t know which was better, that zip line or the white-water rafting we did this morning. And we haven’t even gotten a chance to go horseback riding yet.”

  We’d arrived at Bear Foot Lodge the previous afternoon, and today we were scheduled to head up to Black Bear Mountain. While helping noted biologist Dr. Kroopnik with his field research for a few days, we’d be camping out in the woods.

  “It was really cool of your parents to arrange for us to stay here, Randall,” Melissa said to the fifth and final member of the Geccos. “This place is awesome.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Randall grumbled as he tried to brush dirt off his no-longer-perfectly-white Converse All Stars. “If you like bugs and country bumpkins.”

  Randall must have ignored the part about us roughing it in the woods, because he was still wearing his standard prepster combo of brand-new sneakers and a cardigan draped over his shoulders. With his attitude, he should have just worn a wet blanket instead.

  “Are you kidding, dude?” I asked. “If our parents took us here every year, I’d be totally stoked.”

  “Yeah, Randall, you’re just grumpy because we voted Frank club president instead of you,” Mandy said.

  “Like I even care about this stupid club,” he scoffed. “I’m only here because my parents think this Kroopnik guy’s name will look good on my college applications.”

  “Who’s ready for some science!” GECC faculty adviser Jim shouted through an armload of camping gear as he stumbled toward us. He seemed to be carrying more stuff than he could handle.

  Frank and Mandy whooped it up.

  “Assisting Dr. Kroopnik with his field research is going to be a great experience for you guys. I—Ayeeee!” Jim tripped over his feet before he could finish, sending both him and the gear flying.

  Bayport High’s fresh-out-of-college science teacher chuckled as Frank and I ran over to help him up. “Sorry about that, guys. I probably should have asked for help, but I’m just so excited to get this adventure started that I couldn’t wait.”

  That was Jim Morgan in a nutshell, full of more enthusiasm than grace. Jim—who insisted students call him by his first name—had been at Bayport High for only a couple of semesters, but he was already one of the students’ favorite teachers—partly because he was a great teacher and partly because he was endlessly entertaining. You never knew when he might accidentally set the chem lab on fire or walk into a wall absentmindedly while pondering an exciting new lesson plan.

  “Max Kroopnik is a real-deal field biologist,” he said, readjusting his glasses. “The man has had studies published in just about every major science journal there is.”

  “His article on the effects of carbon emissions on endangered species in high-elevation river ecosystems has led to a whole new way of thinking about mountain preservation,” Frank eagerly added.

  “Totally,” Mandy chimed in. “I can’t wait to see his new method for on-site stream water filtration.”

  Melissa and I caught each other rolling our eyes at the same time and laughed.

  “Incoming!” a woman’s voice called out as Casey, one half of the young couple who owned Bear Foot Lodge, whooshed toward us on the zip line.

  “You guys did great up there,” she said, unhooking herself from the zip line and hopping off the platform.

  “Your tattoo is wicked, Casey.” Melissa pointed at the bear paw on Casey’s forearm below the rolled-up sleeve of her red plaid lumberjack shirt. Not that Casey looked like a lumberjack. With her long blond hair, bright smile, and trendy sunglasses, she looked more like an outdoor clothing catalog model.

  “Cool, right?” Casey said, tracing the squiggly line running through the center of the bear paw. “It’s kind of like my family crest. My sister has one too. That line follows the same path as the river through this valle
y.”

  “And before anyone even asks,” Jim interjected, “no, you are not allowed to get tattoos on this trip.”

  Casey laughed. “We should go ahead and get your gear loaded on the plane. The pilot will be here soon to fly you up to Black Bear Mountain so you can rendezvous with the scientist.”

  Jim looked apprehensively at the small single-propeller bush plane waiting in the field next to the lodge. “There’s no way we can take an off-road vehicle or just hike in?”

  “Sorry. Black Bear Mountain is about as remote as it gets around here, and the research station is in an old ranger lookout post near the very top.” Casey pointed toward the peak looming over the rest of the valley in the distance. “There are no roads, and you’d have to be an experienced mountaineer to make it to the trailhead on foot.”

  “I’m game,” I said, thinking about how cool it would be to put my mountain-climbing skills to the test.

  “I don’t doubt it, Joe.” Casey gave me an approving nod. “But I’m not so sure about the rest of your group. If you guys don’t want to fly, there are plenty of great places to camp right around here that are more accessible.”

  “But what about Dr. Kroopnik?” Frank protested.

  “It’s okay, Frank,” Jim said resolutely. “I’m not going to let my silly little phobia about flying spoil our expedition.” He took a deep breath and turned to Casey. “It’s just a short flight, right?”

  “Just about the shortest you’ll ever take,” she replied. “You’ll be back on the ground in a few minutes.”

  Jim gulped. “Okay, we might as well get on with—”

  Jim was interrupted by a bang so loud, it sounded like a gunshot. We turned to see a beat-up old boat of a red convertible backfiring as it squealed around the corner and swerved up the drive toward the lodge at top speed. The driver slammed on the brakes at the last second, plowing through a pair of trash cans before coming to a stop a few feet from the porch.

  The guy who stumbled out had on big green-tinted aviator glasses and quite possibly the brightest, ugliest Hawaiian shirt I’d ever seen. He took off his floppy hat, scratched his shiny bald dome, and let out a loud belch that we could hear all the way across the field.

  “Um, who’s that?” Jim asked Casey.

  “The Commander,” she replied. “Your pilot.”

  2

  FRIGHT FLIGHT

  FRANK

  ARE YOU CRAZY?!” JIM YANKED on his hair with both hands as he looked from our so-called pilot to Casey and back again. “He can’t even park a car without crashing, how’s he supposed to land an airplane on top of a mountain?”

  The wacky-looking guy in the blinding shirt had gone from belching to hopping up and down on one leg and hitting himself on the side of the head like he was trying to shake water out of his ears. I may not have shared our teacher’s fear of flying, but I was asking myself the same question.

  “Trust me, Commander Gonzo may not look it,” Casey said, “but he’s the best bush pilot in the state.”

  “Commander Gonzo?! What kind of name is Gonzo?” Jim groaned. “He sounds like a Muppet, not a pilot!”

  Casey’s husband, Steven, loped toward us from the lodge. Tall and skinny, with a lumberjack shirt like Casey’s, a rugged yet well-maintained beard, and stylish retro black-framed glasses, he looked like a cross between a cool hipster and a young mountain man.

  “Hey, is something wrong, guys?” he asked, scrunching his brow.

  Casey said, “Jim is just a little nervous about the flight to Black Bear Mountain with the Commander.”

  We watched as said Commander began rooting through his car’s trunk, tossing a variety of junk over his shoulders as he went.

  “Anybody seen my spare parachute?” he shouted to Marty, Bear Foot Lodge’s burly fishing guide, who had come outside after Steven to see what all the commotion was about.

  Steven nervously cleared his throat as he looked from Commander Gonzo back to Jim. “Uh, yeah, I can see how you might feel that way. Maybe you should just skip the flight to Black Bear Mountain and camp at one of our great spots around here instead.”

  Jim was starting to worry me. From the way he was gnawing on a fingernail, he looked like he was giving the suggestion serious thought.

  “But what about meeting Dr. Kroopnik?” I asked.

  “Yeah!” Mandy and Randall chimed in.

  “I suggested the same thing,” Casey told Steven, “but they don’t want to miss out on their research trip.”

  Steven tugged on his beard and stared off into the distance at Black Bear Mountain like he was trying to solve a difficult puzzle.

  “Hey, tell you what,” he said after a minute. “We’ve got a buddy who’s a wildlife ranger right here in the valley. I bet he’d be happy to have you guys tag along for a day or two. It would be just as educational as some stuffy scientist and a lot more exciting, but without all the hassle! What do you say? I’ll get on the radio and let him know you’re coming.”

  Steven gestured back at the lodge, where they kept their two-way ham radio. We were far enough up in the mountains that there wasn’t any cell phone service, so sometimes the only way to reach people deep in the backcountry was still by radio. Jim had never even talked to Dr. Kroopnik; they’d coordinated the whole trip by sending letters, like in the old days!

  The rest of the Geccos and I looked anxiously at our teacher. I don’t think any of us were thrilled about getting on a plane with Commander Gonzo, but we didn’t want to miss out on the trip to Black Bear Mountain, either.

  “No, we’ve already gone to a lot of trouble to make arrangements with Dr. Kroopnik,” Jim finally declared. “He’s expecting us, and I don’t want to let him or my students down.”

  “Are you sure?” Steven frowned. “That far up Black Bear Mountain is practically the middle of nowhere. Once you get out there, you’re stuck for three whole nights until Gonzo comes back for you. And the weather at that elevation can turn on you real quick. It can be rough camping if you’re not used to it.”

  He eyed Randall, who’d been busy trying to defend his cardigan from bugs.

  “I’ll be fine, thanks,” Randall said sarcastically. “Putting Kroopnik’s name on my college applications is the only reason I let my parents talk me into coming back to this place.”

  “You sure?” Steven insisted. “You don’t usually go in for all the outdoorsy stuff when your family comes up.”

  “You’re right, we could always just call the trip off, and then I could just tell my parents to cancel their check.” Randall fixed Steven with a chilly glare. “I mean, it’s not like you guys need the money or anything, right?”

  “Randall!” Jim snapped.

  “What?” Randall asked fake innocently.

  “Nobody is canceling anything,” Jim sighed. “We came here to see Dr. Kroopnik and we’re going to see Dr. Kroopnik. If Casey says it’s safe to fly with this Gonzo guy, I believe her.”

  Steven was about to say something else when Casey placed her hand gently on his shoulder. “Come on, honey,” she said. “Let’s load up the plane and get the Geccos on their way before they start losing daylight.”

  A few minutes later all our gear was on the plane and we were about to board when a familiar voice bellowed, “Stay out of trouble, Hardys!”

  We turned around to see a familiar figure trudging toward the river in a very unfamiliar outfit. Bayport’s top cop looked downright goofy wearing a floppy fishing hat and rubber waders instead of his chief-of-police uniform.

  “Looking spiffy, Chief Olaf,” Joe chirped, unable to hide his smirk.

  “If you’re half as good at catching fish as you are at catching criminals, then those aquatic vertebrates won’t stand a chance, sir,” I added, causing Joe to nearly spit on himself trying not to laugh.

  “I should have known better than to take my vacation in the same place as the Hardy boys,” Chief Olaf grumbled. “As if you two don’t get in my way enough already in Bayport!”

&nbs
p; The chief likes to gives us a hard time—and, to be fair, our stellar detective work does kind of tend to make the police look bad—but he’s actually a nice guy beneath the grumpy exterior.

  “You’re the reason I need a vacation in the first place!” The chief’s fishing rod wiggled as he jabbed it in our direction. “You boys do anything to disrupt my fishing trip and you’ll be going back to Bayport in cuffs.”

  “Happy hunting, Chief!” Joe called after him as the chief plodded toward the water, sighing and muttering to himself.

  • • •

  It wasn’t long before we were buckled in and ready for takeoff. Commander Gonzo had taxied the little plane right up next to the lodge so there’d be enough room to take off using the field as a runway.

  “All right, kiddies!” our pilot shouted to be heard over the plane’s engine and whirling propeller. “I gotta run back in to use the little boys’ room. Anybody forgot anything, now’s the time to get it. You don’t want to get out in the bush and find out you left behind your tents and toilet paper.”

  “I’m pretty sure we have everything,” Jim said meekly as he checked and double-checked his seat belt.

  “Wait!” I shouted. “I forgot my research journal!”

  After reading Dr. Kroopnik’s last article, I’d come up with some field research ideas of my own that I was eager to share with him.

  “Please hurry, Frank,” Jim pleaded, looking more and more green by the minute. “The sooner we take off, the sooner we can get out of this sardine can.”

  “I love sardines!” Commander Gonzo declared in nonsensical delight as he hopped off the plane and marched back to the lodge ahead of me. I ran back inside to the room Joe and I were sharing, grabbed my notebook, and was on my way back to the plane when I heard the muffled sound of a whispered argument through a cracked door at the back of the lodge. With the noisy plane right outside distorting and drowning out the words, I couldn’t tell who was talking or understand much of anything they were saying. It sounded like only one voice talking, though. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but, well—I am a detective, after all.