176-In Plane Sight by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon [Dixon, Franklin W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-08-07T15:15:18+00:00

Chapter 9

The Ghost in the Ice

"Frank!" Joe yelled. He dropped onto all fours to prevent the ice from breaking beneath him and scrambled toward the edge of the hole. When he peered into the water, though, he saw no sign of his brother.

Frank Hardy plunged into the chilly deep. The parachute on his back became waterlogged almost instantly. The heavy backpack dragged him down toward the lake's unknown depths.

Frank pulled the parachute pack from his back and let it fall to the bottom. The water felt like cold needles piercing his skin. He glanced up and saw a broken circle of light above, the hole through which he had fallen.

Then something closer by caught his eye. It was an aircraft, an airplane submerged beneath the ice, half buried in the bottom of the lake. The crafts dark red tail jutted up from the murky waters below. It seemed about the same shape and size as one of the Sullivan Brothers custom airplanes. Curiosity rose in Franks brain, but he didn't have enough air in his lungs to take a long look.

Kicking hard, he shot toward the pale light above. He broke surface next to Joe's extended hands. The younger Hardy grabbed his brother by the arms and pulled. Frank scrambled up, and a few moments later the two lay on the ice side by side, panting.

"Glad you came up," Joe said. "I thought for a moment that I'd have to dive in after you." "Me too," Frank said.

"How long do you think it will take to crawl to shore?" Joe asked. "Or do you want to chance walking again?"

"No thanks," Frank said. "I'll be pretty frozen by the time we get there, but I think I prefer being a Popsicle to falling in again." "Let's go then."

Cautiously they crept the thirty yards from the hole in the ice to the wooded shore of the peninsula.

"How far do you think it is to that barn?" Joe asked.

"At least two or three miles," Frank said. "We won't make it before dark."

"We'd better dry you off then," Joe said. "I could stand to warm up too. Next time I go parachuting, remind me to take my jumpsuit."

"The next time I go swimming under the ice, remind me to take my wet suit," Frank replied. "Come on, let's see if we can get a fire started."

They cleared a bare patch on the ground at the edge of the pine forest. Fortunately there was little snow to move away, and what there was consisted mostly of light powder. They found plenty of dry pine needles in the woods to use as tinber and enough stout sticks and dead branches to make a good stack.

Utilizing their knowledge from years of scout camp, the brothers quickly got a small blaze going, which they soon built into a good-size fire. Frank dangled his clothes, piece by piece, on sticks over the fire until they were dry. Joe was soon feeling toasty as well.

"This is a little more extreme camping than I'd intended when I came along on this trip," Joe said.

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