Hardy Boys Mystery Series by 70

Hardy Boys Mystery Series by 70

Author:70 [70]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 2010-08-23T01:11:03.057000+00:00


CHAPTER XI

Sunset Oystermen

Joe shot an astonished look at his friends, then at the team of geologists on the beach. "You mean,

Werner's in cahoots with the Rabbit?"

"Cool it," Frank urged his brother. "Don't pay any more attention to them. Just head this thing down the

shore."

The boys threw out fishing lines as Joe motored the skiff around a bend in the high bluffs. Once they were

out of sight, they drew in the lines and took off their disguises.

"This seems like a good spot to set up camp," Frank said, indicating an area where the bluffs had eroded

enough to provide a naturally protected section of the beach.

The foursome pitched Fritz's tent at the foot of the yellow clay cliff. Frank and Joe collected driftwood,

as Chet and Fritz prepared to make supper. By the time the sun began to set over the wide, still waters

of the lower Potomac, the boys had a pot of beef stew bubbling over a crackling fire.

"I feel like a gypsy camping on the Rhine River," Fritz remarked wistfully, remembering the natural beauty

of his own part of the world. "Now all we need is a violin and a tambourine."

"I feel like an early American explorer," Chet said, and gazed over the water. The far shore was lined

with a dense forest that broke off at the point where the Potomac fed into the bay. "Only now we don't

have to worry about hostile Indians or wild animals. We can just enjoy the sunset over the river."

Joe, relaxing against a log, chuckled at his chunky friend's observation. "No, we don't have to worry

about wild animals, just bomb-throwing terrorists. If given a choice, I'd go for the animals."

The four youths sat in quiet thought as the sun turned a deep red hue and sank into the horizon. A boat

loaded with oysters came into sight. Moving slowly with its heavy cargo piled high in the middle, it made

an odd silhouette against the sunset. Two men were aboard and, noticing the camp fire on the beach,

watched the four boys as they went by.

"They must be from the fishing village," Joe said. "Looks like they made a good harvest today." He stood

up and waved at the oystermen, who returned the wave before disappearing around the bend.

"I wish we had some of those fresh oysters to make a stew," Chet put in.

Joe let out a groan. "How can you think about food right now? I'm stuffed."

"Wait a minute," Frank said. "This isn't oyster season. Those couldn't have been fresh oysters."

"Are you suggesting that the boat was full of rotten oysters?" Chet said.

"Look," Frank told him. "Oysters are not in season during the summer. They're only harvested in the

months that have an Y in their spelling-September through April. I don't know what those guys are up to,

but they're sure not oystermen!"

Suddenly, Frank and Joe had the same thought. The boat might not have been on its way to the fishing

village at all!

"Let's check on the geologists," Frank said to his younger brother.

Both boys got to their feet and jogged down the beach in the direction of the drilling site.



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