Danger on Vampire Trail Read Online Free PDF Page A

wanted was to eat some chow and hit the sack.”
    â€œYou should have asked permission to camp here,” the farmer insisted.
    â€œDon’t you think you’ve punished us enough?” said Joe, a little more vehemently than he had intended.
    â€œWhat do you mean by that?”
    â€œAll our tires are flat.”
    â€œAre you accusing me?” The farmer’s jaw thrust forward, and he took a step closer.
    â€œOh no offense meant,” Joe said. “That is if you didn’t do it.”
    The farmer half-smiled in spite of himself. “If I wanted to punish you, I’d give you a boot in the britches.”
    The expression made the boys laugh. Their humor was infectious and the man joined in with a loud guffaw.
    â€œHonest,” Frank said, leading the way to the Hardys’ car. “Someone came in here last night and deflated us.”
    â€œAnd took the valve cores, too,” Joe added. “We’re really stuck.”
    The farmer pursed his lips and shook his head. “Too bad. But I think I can help you.”
    â€œHave you got some spares?” Frank asked quickly.
    â€œYep. Up in the barn. Come along, young fellow, and I’ll give them to you.”
    Frank apologized again.
    â€œForget it,” the farmer said. “You told me once, that’s enough.”
    Frank had trouble keeping up with the man, whose sturdy legs were used to climbing the hilL Tagging a few feet behind, he finally came to the ridge and saw a snug farmhouse sheltered just below the brow of the slope. A barn stood nearby, with baskets stacked along the side. A mud-splat tered half-ton pickup was in the driveway.
    While Frank waited, the farmer went into the barn and returned with a flat, thin packet containing four valve cores.
    â€œLet me pay you,” Frank said, reaching into his pocket.
    â€œNo need. And if you want a place to camp on your way back from wherever you’re going, just toot your horn a couple of times to let me know.”
    Frank thanked the man, then trotted over the hilL Going down the other side, he saw Biff circling the orchard with Sherlock straining at the leash. Chet and Joe followed close behind them.
    When Frank caught up with the group, he asked, “What’s up?”
    â€œI had a hunch,” Joe replied. “Gave Sherlock a smell of the inner sole from Whip Lasher’s shoe.”
    â€œAnd old Sherlock picked up the trail,” Biff added, restraining the hound.
    Frank declared, “So that’s who let the air out of our tires!”
    â€œDidn’t Collig say he was a practical joker?” Chet said. Then he shuddered. “Hey! Think what might have happened. That goon could have murdered us all in our sleep!”
    Frank agreed they should be extra-cautious. The bloodhound led them closer and closer to the highway. However, when they reached the edge of the road, Sherlock lost the scent.
    Suddenly Joe remembered something. “I’ll bet he was the guy who stopped ahead of us when we drove in here.”
    â€œYou could be right,” Frank admitted.
    â€œSure. He waited to play his dirty trick until we were asleep.”
    The valve cores were replaced quickly. Using a foot pump, the boys labored hard to inflate the tires. Luckily the side walls had not separated from the rims and the boys completed the task successfully.
    Leg-weary from the pumping, they folded up their camper and the caravan was on its way again. That night and the following one were spent in small trailer camps, where the fees were modest and the facilities good. They were now approaching the area where many of the Magnacard swindles had taken place.
    The Hardys consulted the list of dealers who had been victimized, and stopped in stores in three different towns. There they learned that at least two other men besides Whip Lasher had purchased goods, most of it sporting equipment. They were both described as shorter than average, stout, and