Quotes About Adventure

Aunt Gertrude sputtered indignantly as Frank and Joe hurried away without waiting for any pie à la mode. They jumped into their convertible and followed Chet's jalopy. Dusk was falling as the four friends pulled up near the cove. An old, rather battered-looking coupé was parked among the trees.

enough so that by scrambling over its bow one could land on the tumbled heaps of rocks and boulders just beneath the opening. "Let's take a look," he said eagerly. "Jerry, will you hold the boat here?" "Sure. Go ahead." Within a few minutes the others were climbing up the boulders toward the cave mouth. Presently they vanished into the dark interior.

The motorboat edged its way along the face of the cliff. Whenever the boys noticed one of the larger openings that could be reached easily from the shore, Frank ran the boat in among the rocks. Then, while one boy stayed in the Sleuth, the others would scramble up to investigate the cave. The hours dragged by. Finally they navigated to a place where the cliff sloped and began to give way to sandy hills and wooded inclines. Biff

Frank parked the car at a drugstore and the two boys hurried to a telephone booth inside. Leafing through the Bayport directory, they soon found the attorney's residential listing.

They drove around to the north shore, and presently came upon two large stone pillars covered with vines. The name MEAD was carved on one. As they turned into the driveway, Joe said, "The place looks deserted to me." A short distance ahead of them was a clump of trees, around which the driveway wound to the stone mansion. The imposing house at the end of the deeply rutted and overgrown road stood about two hundred feet from the water, commanding an unobstructed view of Barmet Bay.

Ten o'clock the next morning found the Hardy boys on the sidewalks of downtown Bayport. They were on their way to police headquarters to check on any new developments in the harbor mystery. It was a hot, sunny day. Already the stores were lowering awnings over their display windows.

The Hardys started down the street. They had gone only three blocks when their chubby friend Chet Morton jumped out of a yellow sedan which stopped briefly and then went on. He was munching an apple. "Hi, fellows," he greeted them. "I was on my way to your house. Phil gave me a ride. Going anywhere special?" "Well, sort of," Joe replied. "Why?" "Put it off," Chet insisted importantly. "I've got something to show you.

Joe came down to join Chet Morton, who sat at the car's wheel. "Where to?" he asked.

Not until after supper were the Hardys able to drive out to the Batter estate. The high, gabled mansion loomed starkly against the sky, silvered by moonlight. A broken porch rail and dark, blank windows gave it a sinister look. "Spooky-looking layout," Joe muttered. "It's a cinch no one's taking care of the place.

Franklin W. Dixon

Frank glanced at his wristwatch. "Sufferin' snakes! We're almost late for class!" With a roar of exhaust, the convertible headed for Bayport High School. Not until they returned home that afternoon were the Hardys able to resume work on the code message.

Aunt Gertrude paused in the midst of trimming a pie crust as they rushed out through the kitchen door. "Land sakes! Where are you boys off to now?" she scolded. "Don't you realize you'll ruin your digestions?" "On your cooking? Why, Aunty!" Joe grinned and ducked out before she could retort.

When he reached the selected cruising altitude, Jerry set the plane on course. Hour after hour passed as it bore through the sky. Lulled by the drone of the engines, the boys caught up on some sleep. When they awoke, the first light of dawn was breaking in the east. Gradually the light grew brighter, revealing a fascinating mosaic of deep blue and jade green on the surface of the ocean below.

After explaining that they would try to find a glove of similar manufacture, Frank and Joe left.

Just then a car pulled up in front of the house with a squeal of tires and a series of loud backfires. "Don't tell me—let me guess. It's Chet Morton," said Frank.

The boys hurried to the Hardys' convertible. A red glow of sunset suffused

By now the speedy craft was far out on the broad bay. The water had grown choppy and was turning from green to steely gray. In the distance the boys watched a cluster of white sails skimming before the breeze.

Nice lines," commented Joe. "Pass close to her, will you, Frank?" Quietly, with her engine throttled down, the motorboat drew abreast of the larger vessel. It was now dusk and a light shone in her cabin from which came the sound of activity. Frank gazed in admiration at the tall masts and shipshape rigging.

The Hardys and Chet hastened out into the chilly air. The lighted windows of the house became eerie rectangles of hazy yellow in the drifting mist as the trio skirted the dense bushes edging the lawn.

FRANK and Joe Hardy clutched the grips of their motorcycles and stared in horror at the oncoming car.

After stopping in the house for lemonade with the girls and to pick up Chet's wallet, the three boys piled into the convertible and drove off. A few minutes later they pulled up in front of the novelty shop on King Street. A bell tinkled as they walked in and Mr. Bivven, the squat, baldheaded proprietor, came out of the back room to greet them. He beamed at the trio across the counter. "Something you'd like, boys?

Being a detective can be dangerous! Thanks for the assist.

Callie rode with Frank in the convertible, while Joe piled in with Iola and Chet. They drove to a spot just north of Barmet Bay, called Gremlin Beach, which had become popular for surf-riding because of its high swells. "What a day for surf-birds!" Joe cried as the foursome jumped out onto the clean white stretch of sand. An onshore breeze was blowing, and the waves from some distant storm were piling into high-crested breakers. Two boats came into view, kicking up plumes of spray.

mountain peak soared against the sky. "That's El Yunque—The Anvil," Jack pointed out. "It's a tropical rain forest with ferns as high as houses." They landed and admired the large white modernistic terminal building as they walked toward it. The structure seemed to be poised on stilts. Mr. Hardy was waiting to greet the travelers as soon as they cleared customs. "Good flight?" he asked.