The Desert Thieves Read Online Free PDF Page B

said. “But why would somebody like him be off-roading in the desert?”
    â€œMaybe for his research,” Frank said. “Or maybe he’s involved with the cactus thieves. Somehow he doesn’t seem like the type to get his hands dirty transplanting big plants.”
    â€œNo,” Joe said, “but he could be the mastermind behind the rustling. He sure did act upset when we saw that thing under his truck.”
    â€œHey, we’re pretty good, aren’t we?” Frank said. “So far we’ve turned up three suspects—Kidwell, Perez, and the prof—and we haven’t even been here twelve hours.”
    â€œAnd in those twelve hours, I haven’t eaten abite,” Fenton said, “Are you interested in salvaging those gourmet hot dogs you left on the grill, Joe?”
    â€œOh, my gosh!” Joe said, jumping for the door. “I forgot the dude dogs!”
    â€œHold it!” Fenton called. “They’re in the fridge. I brought them in when they were done and you still weren’t back. I rescued the beans, too.”
    After wolfing down a late dinner, Joe began to feel drowsy. The fresh desert air was making him pleasantly tired, and he climbed gratefully into his sleeping bag on his bunk. Drifting off, he could hear the sounds that Grish had promised—the high-pitched songs of the coyotes, calling from one direction and being answered from another, under the stars in the chilly night air. He smiled and fell asleep.
    He was awakened about one o’clock by a distant sound he couldn’t identify at first. Listening for a few more moments, he realized he was hearing the revving of a big engine, like that of a slow-moving truck. The sound was coming from the west, though, not from the direction of the highway.
    He got up and tapped Frank’s shoulder. “Listen,” he whispered. “What does that sound like to you?”
    Frank rubbed his eyes and listened. “Engines,” he whispered back. “Only”—he sat up—“from the wrong direction.”
    â€œExactly,” Joe whispered. “The highway through the park is to the east of us. A vehicle on that highway would be moving fast, and the soundwould fade away. What we’re hearing is steady, like a vehicle sitting in one place with the engine running.”
    â€œLike a truck running a winch,” Frank whispered.
    â€œMaybe,” Joe whispered, glancing over to see if their father was stirring. “It could be the cactus thieves.”
    â€œLet’s check it out,” Frank whispered.
    They pulled on their jeans, sweatshirts, and hiking boots, and tiptoed out the door. But as they started across the campground, Frank had an after-thought. “Let’s wake up Dad to tell him where we’re going,” he said. “We can turn on the CB radio and take the walkie-talkie from the car. Then if we get out there and actually catch the thieves in the act, we can radio back to Dad, and he can get hold of Grish.”
    â€œGood idea,” Joe said. They woke Fenton, explained what they were up to, and turned on the radio in the motor home. Grabbing the CB walkie-talkie from the car, they started hiking across the desert in the direction of the vehicle sounds.
    The terrain was uneven and the footing a little tricky, even in the bright moonlight. Other than the engine noise the night was quiet, so they were able to head straight for the sounds. But after a while it seemed as if they weren’t getting any closer.
    Frank stopped. “You know what?” he said. “I can’t hear the engines anymore.”
    Joe stopped to listen. “Me neither,” he said.“Maybe they shut down for a few minutes. Think we should keep going?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Frank said. He looked around at the moonlit desert landscape. With no city lights in the background, the stars were brilliant against the black sky. The nocturnal animals