The Great Airport Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

reference.
    â€œI still think these grooves were made by the wheels of an airplane,” said Joe.
    â€œBut how? The length of the pasture rules out the possibility that a plane could land here,” Frank objected.
    The boys continued heading for the hill at the far end. Just short of the tree line they stopped and peered into the murky shadows of the woods. The hill began to slope sharply upward at this point.
    â€œI don’t see any caves around here,” Joe observed.
    The boys were about to proceed closer when suddenly a man darted out from the woods. The boys recognized him immediately as the stranger who had previously challenged them near this spot. He was now unarmed.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” he bellowed. “Get off of this land! It’s private property!”
    â€œWe were forced down by a storm,” said Joe, pointing toward the helicopter just visible in the distance.
    â€œThe storm is over!” the man retorted. “Now you’d better climb into that bird and get out of here!”
    â€œBut we don’t know if we can take off,” said Frank. “We got bounced around pretty bad in the storm. The copter was damaged—how much, we don’t know. Our pilot is inspecting it now.”
    â€œIf it won’t fly, you’ll just have to leave it!” the man growled, his face purpling with anger. “I want you to get out of here—and fast!”
    Meanwhile, out of the corner of his eye, Joe glimpsed a flicker of movement in the woods. He turned his head cautiously in an effort to get a better view. What he saw caused him to grab his brother’s arm as a signal not to argue further.
    Concealed behind a tree was someone with a vicious-looking hunting bow. An arrow had already been fitted to the string, and was now aimed directly at the boys!

CHAPTER XIV
    Amazing Camouflage
    WITHOUT further protest, the Hardys turned and started walking back toward the helicopter.
    â€œTake a quick look to your left, Frank,” whispered Joe. “Someone’s aiming an arrow at us!”
    After taking a few more steps, Frank glanced over his shoulder. At that instant the man armed with the bow and arrow darted from behind one tree to another. The boy detective’s keen eye recognized his face immediately.
    â€œBush Barney!” Frank said softly.
    The brothers reached the helicopter just as the pilot was completing his inspection.
    â€œThere’s some minor damage,” Mack reported, “but not bad enough to prevent us from flying if we have to. You in a hurry?”
    â€œYes,” said Frank, “we must notify the police about two men who chased us!”
    â€œI can’t radio from here,” Mack told him. “But as soon as we’re airborne, there won’t be any interference.”
    â€œAfterward,” said Frank, “we can come down again and land somewhere out of sight of the pasture and walk back here to meet the officers.”
    â€œSuits me,” said Mack. “I don’t like the sound of this motor yet and I’d just as soon come down and work on it some more.”
    In a few minutes the whirling rotor blades were carrying the young detectives skyward. Frank asked Mack to radio Bayport tower.
    â€œOur transmitter doesn’t have enough wattage to reach that far,” the pilot said. He extracted a sectional air chart from his kit and examined it. “There’s an omni radio station with voice facilities much closer to us,” he announced. “If we climb above these hills, we should be able to establish contact, and have them relay a message for you.”
    Mack tuned the radio dials to a standard aviation communication frequency, then picked up the microphone and gave his identification number and approximate position. In seconds the speaker on his receiver crackled a response. Mack handed the microphone to Frank and told him to proceed with his message.
    Frank requested that word be