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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

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BOOK: The Firebird Rocket
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Chet picked up a dried branch, evidently blown from a far-off straggle of gum trees, made a wide circle, came up behind the snake, and brushed the sand with the stick. With blinding speed, the snake whirled and sank its fangs into the wood!
Frank and Joe instantly grabbed Ponsley and pulled him away from the boulder. He trembled and gasped for breath. Chet stepped back, dragging the snake, which maintained its grip on the stick.
“Look!” Joe cried suddenly.
Between the serpent's coils gleamed a piece of metal. When the snake released the stick and slithered off among the rocks, Joe retrieved the object, a key chain with the initial M on it.
“That's probably Michael's!” Ponsley exclaimed. “He must have dropped it here!”
“Most likely on the way up this gully,” Frank observed. “So that's where we go.”
The gully led to a point where the rocks were taller and more spread out, with defiles leading in several directions. They halted, not knowing which way to take.
Frank cupped his hands around his mouth. “Mike Moran!” he shouted. “Come on out! We're friends!”
His words echoed among the rocks and then silence fell again.
Joe called, “Dr. Jenson! Dr. Jenson!”
Again silence. A small stone tumbled from one of the tall rocks. Looking up, the boys saw a figure vanish over the top.
“There they are!” Chet cried out.
The four climbed over a pile of rocks and reached the top just in time to see the figure jump down on the other side and run into a defile.
“They think we're Stiller and company,” Joe said. “They won't come out.”
“You follow them,” Frank replied. “I'll cut them off.”
Noting that the defile curved around in a semicircle, he scrambled down the pile of rocks, turned left, and met Moran and Jenson running through toward him!
Jenson was a slight, scholarly-looking man. Moran appeared to be the outdoor type, and he assumed a boxer's stance as soon as he saw Frank.
“Relax, Mike,” Frank told him. “We're not in league with the Cutlers. Those crooks are a long way from here.”
Just then the others came up. Ponsley hastened forward and cried, “Michael! Michael!”
Moran stared at him in utter astonishment. “Mr. Ponsley, what are you doing here?”
“And who are these boys?” Jenson put in.
“Friends!” Ponsley said. Then he explained how they happened to be searching for Moran and Jenson.
When Ponsley mentioned that Michael had been accused of tipping off two bank robbers about the Mid-County Bank's alarm system, Moran shook his head in disbelief. “Dad needn't have worried about that. The alarm system they've got now is totally different from the one in use when I worked there. I know nothing about the present system.”
“Can you prove that?” Joe asked.
“Sure. The old system had a number of flaws. I know because I checked it out. The manager called in a security engineering firm to install a new one. The job hadn't been finished when I left. The records will back me up on that.”
“So the two men who were arrested must have been trying to frame you to cover up for someone else,” Frank reasoned.
“You bet they were!” said Mike.
Ponsley heaved a sigh of relief now that he knew the senator's son could be cleared. The conversation reminded Frank of something. “You spoke about a bank employee named Thurbow, who helped to throw suspicion on Mike,” he said to Ponsley. “What's his job there?”
“Security guard, I believe.”
“Any idea what he looks like?”
“I have,” Mike broke in. “He's a stocky, redhaired guy with a broken nose. I never did like him.”
Frank turned to his brother. “Remember the man who was in the chemistry shop talking to Mr. Oakes when we ordered that methyl yellow?”
Joe's eyes widened and he snapped his fingers. “Holy smoke, you're right! It was a chunky red-head! I remember wondering if he might be a pro boxer with that broken nose. That must have been Thurbow.”
“Check! Mr. Oakes told us he was talking to a security guard when the mistake occurred. I'll bet Thurbow switched the methyl yellow with his own bottle of liquid gas.”
“Probably because he heard at the bank that Senator Moran planned to call us in on the case.”
The two boys told their listeners about their accident with the tear gas.
Later Ponsley inquired reproachfully, “Michael, why did you leave your home like that?”
“I wanted to see the world without my father's help. I decided to stop being Senator Moran's son for a while and try to make it on my own.”
“How did you get involved with the Stiller gang?” Frank asked.
“I met Bruno at a soccer match in Sydney. He said he was from a ranch in the Outback and when I told him I was looking for a job, he hired me. I didn't know anything about the illegal operations till I got to Cutler Ranch.”
Frank remembered that Bruno said Moran had claimed the police were after him, but decided not to mention it at this point.
“Mike was already there when they dragged me out of the hotel in Sydney,” Jenson took up the story. “They drugged me to make it easier, but I heard them mention Alice Springs and wrote the letters AL S on the door. Did you read my message?”
“Sure did,” Frank said. “But tell me, why did you pick that fleabag hotel in the first place?”
“I had a feeling I was being followed. I had reservations at the Australian Arms, but I took a taxi at the airport and told the driver to take me to the opposite part of town. Unfortunately, it didn't help. They found me anyway.”
“So after that you two met at the Cutler Ranch,” Joe said to Mike.
“Right. That's where Bruno took me. He told me to guard Dr. Jenson when they brought him in. Bruno handed me a rifle and ordered me to see that Dr. Jenson stayed put in the upstairs room until his fate had been decided. When it seemed that they were going to drop him in the Outback, we escaped through the window. We didn't see you fellows. It was too dark. I had been in the yard, and I knew the keys were in the station wagon. That's why we used it for our break-out. We drove till the gas ran out.”
“Then we hid in the rocks,” Jenson continued. “When you came along and stopped behind the station wagon, we thought you were Stiller and his henchmen.”
“That's why we hid even deeper,” Moran said. “By the way, how did you know which way we had gone?”
“We found this at the head of the gully,” Joe replied. He handed the key chain to Mike Moran.
Moran took it and put it in his pocket. “I must have dropped it after we got out of the car. Good thing you found it!”
“Thank the deadly snake, Mike,” Joe quipped.
“What's that again?”
Joe described the incident of the hissing serpent.
Moran became solemn. “I'm sorry you were in so much danger, Mr. Ponsley.”
The latter held up his hand. “Think nothing of it, Michael. I have found you, and nothing else concerns me at this point.”
Frank turned to Jenson. “Do you have any idea why the gang kidnapped you?”
“None at all. It's a mystery to me.”
“Could they be agents of a foreign government?”
“They might,” Jenson confessed. “Professor Young and I received several messages warning us not to test the Firebird Rocket. Certainly a foreign power might be involved. It might be a plot to hold up our space program.”
A loud clatter broke out overhead and a helicopter zoomed through the sky. It was painted white, and bore no markings. The pilot made a wide circle around the two cars parked by the side of the road. Obviously interested in them, he returned for a second look.
“Chopper!” Chet cried. “If we can attract the pilot's attention, maybe he'll pick us up. Come on, we'll send him an SOS before he flies off!”
The rotund youth ran down the gully and out into the open. The others followed on his heels. Chet began to wave his arms frantically.
“Chet, be careful!” Frank warned. “It could be Stiller and his gang!”
Chet ignored the warning. Exultantly he realized that the pilot had spotted the group. “He saw us and is coming down for us!”
The chopper swung low toward them. Then machine guns chattered! Bullets kicked up puffs of sand on the desert floor!
CHAPTER XVI
Helicopter Hunt
“RUN BEHIND the rocks!” Joe shouted. “We're clay pigeons out here in the open!”
He raced back up the gully, followed by the others. The helicopter pursued them, its machine guns spraying bullets at their heels. They circled around the rocks until they found sanctuary under an overhanging ledge. Baffled by this obstruction, the chopper pilot hovered in the sky like a hawk waiting for its prey to emerge from a hole in the ground.
The six fugitives crept into a large cave at the end of the ledge. Ponsley sank down and mopped his brow with his handkerchief. Jenson sat down beside him. The Hardys, Chet, and Moran peered through the mouth of the cave at their enemy overhead.
“We're safe for the moment,” Frank said. “But the helicopter will keep hunting us.”
Ponsley turned pale and gasped, “Then why are we staying in here? We'll be trapped!”
“We can't get back to the car while the chopper's in the air,” Frank replied. “Let's wait until the pilot lands.”
As if in response to his words, the whirlybird began to circle lower and lower, finally settling on the desert in a cloud of dust. The door opened and Stiller jumped out, followed by Bruno and another man. They both carried machine guns.
“Run before they find us!” Frank called out to his companions. “Now!”
He was first out of the cave. Chet, Moran, Jenson, and Ponsley came after, with Joe at the end of the line to make sure no one was left behind. They took the reverse direction along the overhanging ledge, just making it around the rocks before a volley of shots rang out as the gang spotted them.
Quickly they ran down the gully to the car and piled into it. The gang pounded after them.
Frank took the wheel, and the car roared off amid a hail of bullets fired by Stiller and his henchmen.
“Anybody get hit?” Joe asked anxiously.
He felt relieved when everyone reassured him that he had not. Peering through the back window, he saw the gang turn and run up the gully.
“They're going back to the chopper!” he said grimly. “That means they'll be after us again.”
“Oh, no!” Ponsley protested. He was squeezed into one corner of the car with his elbows pressed tightly against his sides. “It's bad enough riding like this! I can't breathe!”
“It'll get worse in a minute,” Joe predicted.
He was right. The helicopter appeared in the sky and thundered after the car. One of the machine guns opened up again, kicking up sand behind the rear wheels of the speeding vehicle.
Frank swerved sharply from one side of the road to the other, presenting a moving target to the gunner. Reaching a row of hills, he dodged into them. He sped in and out among them, rocking the car violently as he took sharp corners on two wheels. The brakes squealed.
“We'll never get out of this alive!” Ponsley lamented. “We're done for!”
“Not yet!” Frank vowed. “We'll give them a run for their money!”
The hills ended, and the car was forced back onto the road through the Outback. The chopper resumed the chase, throwing a moving shadow on the earth like that of a giant prehistoric bird flapping through the early morning sunlight.
Frank raced down the road. “How long can that guy keep missing us with his burp gun?” he wondered.
“They're trying to draw a bead on us,” Joe warned. “Here they come. Everybody duck!”
“Duck?” Ponsley quavered. “I can't even move!”
“What's that?” Chet cried, pointing down the road to a speck on the horizon that was growing larger by the second.
“It's a car!” Frank exclaimed.
The two vehicles raced toward one another. Frank blinked his headlights on and off as a signal to the other driver that he was in trouble.
“I hope he can help us!” Chet said.
“He sure will!” Frank replied. “That's a police car!”
The helicopter pilot, recognizing the police insignia, veered off and clattered away, vanishing in the distance. Frank drew to a stop, and so did the patrol car. Two officers got out.
“Boy, are we glad to see you!” Frank exclaimed.
“What's the matter?” asked one of the officers.
Frank introduced himself and his companions, then explained that the helicopter had been chasing and firing at them.
“Why were the men in the chopper after you?”
Joe and Chet took turns describing what had occurred since they arrived at the Cutler Ranch. Moran and Jenson added their testimony, and told how they happened to be at the ranch.
The policemen listened in amazement. “We saw the copter and heard the gunfire quite a distance away, but we couldn't figure out what was going on,” said one officer.
His partner added, “We'll call for reinforcements and drive to the Cutler homestead immediately.”
“But the chopper will get there before you,” Frank pointed out.
“True. But it's too small to fly out that many people. We should be able to nab at least some of the gang.”
The two officers got into their patrol car and started up the road through the Outback, while Frank and the others continued to Alice Springs. They drove straight to the rental agency and returned the car.
BOOK: The Firebird Rocket
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