Tom raced along at a frantic pace with Joe trying his best to keep up. Moran's shoes were two sizes larger than Joe was used to and kept trying to come off. The consequences of said action being fresh blisters on his ankles.
"Come on," urged Tom, looking over his shoulder and seeing Joe lagging behind.
"I'm trying," groaned Joe. "Grrr," he growled as he lifted his left foot high to climb over a rock only to have the shoe fall off.
"Just a little bit further and we can stop long enough to fix your shoes and get these ropes off," promised Tom.
Joe nodded as he rammed his foot back into the shoe and hurried to catch up. True to his word, Tom came to a stop a few minutes later and held his hands out for Joe to untie.
"Sit down," Tom instructed Joe once his hands were free.
Joe did as bid and took the shoes off, wincing when air hit the freshly popped blisters. "We need to cleanse them as soon as possible," said Tom. "But for now, I'm going to pad your ankles and toes and use some of the fibber from the rope to tighten them a bit."
"Would we have learned this trick in class?" asked Joe with a grin as Tom finished.
"Probably not," admitted Tom standing up. "But I have the feeling you are about to get a crash course in the advanced section. Ever been rock climbing without ropes?" he asked.
"A couple of times," acknowledged Joe.
"Gone downhill?"
"Yeah," Joe said, his nose wrinkling. "It's the only down for us, isn't it?" he asked.
Tom nodded. "We can't go back because they will be looking for us and they won't follow because they've never done it but..."
"But they will probably be waiting for us at the bottom," finished Joe.
"Right," agreed Tom. "Which is why we won't be going straight down."
"You lead," Joe instructed as he stood up. "Too bad they had to take us away from the house," he continued. "I managed to get a call out with the phone number. Dad will have traced it by now," he ended glumly.
"Don't take it so hard," Tom told him. "Morrison always puts fake numbers on his phones in case something like that does happen. Odds are you gave him the number belonging to a senator. He loves using the unlisted phone numbers of important people."
"Great," grumbled Joe as they began their trek back to civilization.
"They're still not home," complained Callie hanging up the phone later that evening. The youths had gathered at Mr. Pizza to await Frank's call, positive he would call at least one of them on their cell.
"Maybe we should drive by," suggested Chet. "Frank could have forgotten; especially if they didn't find Joe or if Joe has been hurt."
"No point in all of us going," said Biff. "Chet and I will go and let you guys know as soon as we find out something."
Chet climbed into the passenger side of Biff's van while Biff got behind the wheel. A few minutes later Biff slowed to a snail's pace as they neared the Hardy residence.
"We ought to look around," said Chet as he observed the unnatural darkness of the Hardy home. He knew they kept their lights on a timer when they were gone and the scene he was seeing didn't feel right to him.
"Yeah, okay," agreed Biff stopping the van across the street from the Hardy home and putting it in park.
The two boys scuttled across the street keeping a sharp watch for anyone lurking about. They checked the van and Mr. Hardy's car out front and the garage that normally housed Mrs. Hardy's Saturn. "They must have gone with the police or FBI," Biff whispered although he didn't believe it. There was just something about the Hardys not having set their timer that bothered him. Even though they were going to rescue Joe, Biff knew that at least one of them would have hit the system's button that started the timer if only from habit.
The two checked the front door. Locked. They went around to the back and, once again, found the kitchen door unsecured. Biff held a finger to his lips and the two friends went inside. They split up to look around and reconvened ten minutes later in the living room.
Biff turned on the overhead light as Chet bent down to pick up a folded sheet of paper lying half under the hutch by the doorway to the dining room. "What's that?" asked Biff inclining his head at the paper in Chet's grasp.
Chet unfolded the paper and frowned. "Looks like the worksheet Frank and Joe make out when they are listing possible leads."
"Now I know something has happened," declared Biff smacking a fist into an open palm. "Neither Frank nor Mr. Hardy would be this careless."
"I think we should call the police," Chet said.
"Agreed," stated Biff before clamping his mouth shut. "Shhh," he hissed.
Coming from the kitchen was the sound of an opening door and footsteps, one set with a distinctive limp. Biff got on the right side of the dining room door and Chet took up position on the left. The dining room door swung open and Chet threw himself at the first intruder as Biff launched himself at the second.
"Oooof!" grunted a familiar voice.
"Joe!" exclaimed Chet as he got his first look at the hapless youth beneath him.
"Come on," urged Tom, looking over his shoulder and seeing Joe lagging behind.
"I'm trying," groaned Joe. "Grrr," he growled as he lifted his left foot high to climb over a rock only to have the shoe fall off.
"Just a little bit further and we can stop long enough to fix your shoes and get these ropes off," promised Tom.
Joe nodded as he rammed his foot back into the shoe and hurried to catch up. True to his word, Tom came to a stop a few minutes later and held his hands out for Joe to untie.
"Sit down," Tom instructed Joe once his hands were free.
Joe did as bid and took the shoes off, wincing when air hit the freshly popped blisters. "We need to cleanse them as soon as possible," said Tom. "But for now, I'm going to pad your ankles and toes and use some of the fibber from the rope to tighten them a bit."
"Would we have learned this trick in class?" asked Joe with a grin as Tom finished.
"Probably not," admitted Tom standing up. "But I have the feeling you are about to get a crash course in the advanced section. Ever been rock climbing without ropes?" he asked.
"A couple of times," acknowledged Joe.
"Gone downhill?"
"Yeah," Joe said, his nose wrinkling. "It's the only down for us, isn't it?" he asked.
Tom nodded. "We can't go back because they will be looking for us and they won't follow because they've never done it but..."
"But they will probably be waiting for us at the bottom," finished Joe.
"Right," agreed Tom. "Which is why we won't be going straight down."
"You lead," Joe instructed as he stood up. "Too bad they had to take us away from the house," he continued. "I managed to get a call out with the phone number. Dad will have traced it by now," he ended glumly.
"Don't take it so hard," Tom told him. "Morrison always puts fake numbers on his phones in case something like that does happen. Odds are you gave him the number belonging to a senator. He loves using the unlisted phone numbers of important people."
"Great," grumbled Joe as they began their trek back to civilization.
"They're still not home," complained Callie hanging up the phone later that evening. The youths had gathered at Mr. Pizza to await Frank's call, positive he would call at least one of them on their cell.
"Maybe we should drive by," suggested Chet. "Frank could have forgotten; especially if they didn't find Joe or if Joe has been hurt."
"No point in all of us going," said Biff. "Chet and I will go and let you guys know as soon as we find out something."
Chet climbed into the passenger side of Biff's van while Biff got behind the wheel. A few minutes later Biff slowed to a snail's pace as they neared the Hardy residence.
"We ought to look around," said Chet as he observed the unnatural darkness of the Hardy home. He knew they kept their lights on a timer when they were gone and the scene he was seeing didn't feel right to him.
"Yeah, okay," agreed Biff stopping the van across the street from the Hardy home and putting it in park.
The two boys scuttled across the street keeping a sharp watch for anyone lurking about. They checked the van and Mr. Hardy's car out front and the garage that normally housed Mrs. Hardy's Saturn. "They must have gone with the police or FBI," Biff whispered although he didn't believe it. There was just something about the Hardys not having set their timer that bothered him. Even though they were going to rescue Joe, Biff knew that at least one of them would have hit the system's button that started the timer if only from habit.
The two checked the front door. Locked. They went around to the back and, once again, found the kitchen door unsecured. Biff held a finger to his lips and the two friends went inside. They split up to look around and reconvened ten minutes later in the living room.
Biff turned on the overhead light as Chet bent down to pick up a folded sheet of paper lying half under the hutch by the doorway to the dining room. "What's that?" asked Biff inclining his head at the paper in Chet's grasp.
Chet unfolded the paper and frowned. "Looks like the worksheet Frank and Joe make out when they are listing possible leads."
"Now I know something has happened," declared Biff smacking a fist into an open palm. "Neither Frank nor Mr. Hardy would be this careless."
"I think we should call the police," Chet said.
"Agreed," stated Biff before clamping his mouth shut. "Shhh," he hissed.
Coming from the kitchen was the sound of an opening door and footsteps, one set with a distinctive limp. Biff got on the right side of the dining room door and Chet took up position on the left. The dining room door swung open and Chet threw himself at the first intruder as Biff launched himself at the second.
"Oooof!" grunted a familiar voice.
"Joe!" exclaimed Chet as he got his first look at the hapless youth beneath him.