The Firebird Rocket by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US

CHAPTER XII

Kangaroo Confrontation

CHET froze as the black horse, glaring and snorting, galloped toward him with pounding hooves!

Frank moved like lightning. He snatched a lasso that had been used in the steer-roping competition and hurled the noose in a long flying arc.

As it settled over the horse’s neck, he fastened the other end of the lariat to a fence post. The enraged animal was about to trample Chet when the rope tightened and brought it to a rearing halt in a cloud of dust!

Chet scrambled over the fence and fought for breath. “Frank,” he puffed, “you’re better than those TV cowboys any day!”

There were loud cheers and a round of applause for Frank’s rescue. One of the contestants came up and spoke to him admiringly. “Good-oh, cobber! Your China would’ve ended up a proper mess if you hadn’t come through with that rope trick!”

“China?” Frank looked puzzled. “Is that a word you cowboys use down under?”

The Aussie laughed. “It’s good old cockney rhyming slang—‘China plate’ for ‘mate.’ And we’re not cowboys down here, Yank. We’re stock-men. My name’s John Harris.”

Shaking hands, Frank introduced himself and his companions. Together they watched the rest of the rodeo, and Harris captured first prize for broncobusting. He invited them to join in the horseback ride around the ring. Ponsley quickly refused, saying he would rather wait on the viewing stand. He climbed up the few steps and sat down in a chair vacated by one of the rodeo judges.

Harris brought up three mounts. Frank, Joe, and Chet climbed into the saddles and trotted in the procession around the enclosure. The Hardys, who had ridden horseback many times, guided their mounts with practiced skill.

Chet clutched the reins with one hand, waved the other, and shouted, “This is for me!” His horse, feeling the tug of the bridle, thought it was time to rear up on its hind legs. The movement alarmed Chet, who slackened his grip and let the horse have its head.

Finally the ride ended, the rodeo broke up, and the boys joined Ponsley for a walk back toward the center. They checked two more hotels without luck, then stopped at a luncheonette and ordered hamburgers.

Chet pitched into his enthusiastically. “Nothing like a horseback ride to set you up for chow.”

Frank laughed. “Chet, who was in charge, you or the horse?”

“Maybe you’d like an encore,” Joe needled him. “We can go back if you like.”

“No, thanks,” Chet said. “I showed the rodeo what I can do. That’s enough for me.”

Ponsley was becoming annoyed. “This trip has not been a success,” he argued. “I’m sure Dr. Jenson isn’t here, and neither is Mike Moran.”

Frank munched a pickle. “We only have a few more places to check, and we never give up prematurely.”

Just then John Harris walked into the luncheonette, recognized the Americans, and came to their table.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

“Of course not,” Frank said, inviting him to sit down. Harris ordered a hamburger. While he ate, Frank told him they were looking for two missing Americans.

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