Farming Fear by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online Page B

can.”
    Chet and the Hardys dug for fifteen minutes, but Joe and Frank’s lower bodies remained embedded in compacted snow. Ice crystals had formed in the hair of all three boys. They looked like refugees from an Antarctic expedition.
    “Hey!” Joe exclaimed. “There’s someone walking over there, near the old factory!”
    “Hey! Help!” Frank called to the figure. “We’re stuck!” The figure paused and peered through the blizzard.
    “Give us a hand!” Chet shouted. “We’re stuck in the snow!”
    For a moment, it seemed the figure might not come to help. Then, slowly, a middle-aged manwith graying hair and black plastic glasses trudged toward them out of the snowstorm. “What are you kids doing out here?” he asked suspiciously.
    “We got caught in a snowslide,” Joe said.
    The man’s eyes narrowed. “Funny time to be running around,” he said.
    “Someone stole our dog,” Chet explained. “We were out looking for him.”
    The man scratched his head. “Who are you boys?”
    “I’m Chet Morton,” Chet replied. “My family owns the farm on top of that ridge.” He pointed back the way they’d come. “And these are my friends, Frank and Joe Hardy.”
    “We’d really appreciate it if you could help us out here, whoever you are,” Frank said.
    “I’m Leo Myint,” the stranger replied. “I run a business out of that factory down there. Let me fetch a shovel from the building.”
    He trudged back to the factory and returned a few minutes later with a couple of shovels.
    “Thanks,” Chet said, taking one.
    Myint nodded and helped Chet dig the brothers out. “So, who took your dog?” Myint asked.
    “Some goons driving snowmobiles,” Chet replied. “Seen any around here?”
    “I’ve seen a lot of strangers mucking about the place lately,” Myint replied. “They’ve been buzzing circles around the factory at all hours—day and night. I suspect they’re to blame for the troublesI’ve had recently—broken windows, missing tools, that kind of thing.”
    “We’ve had similar problems at the farm,” Chet said.
    “Sorry to hear it,” Myint said. “This economy is tough enough without burglars and thieves prowling around. Things have been so bad lately, I’m tempted to sell out and move on.”
    Joe and Frank exchanged a knowing glance, but didn’t say anything.
    Working with the shovels, Myint and Chet freed the Hardys in a matter of minutes.
    “Hey, thanks a lot,” Joe said, shaking Myint’s hand.
    “Don’t mention it,” Myint replied. “If you don’t mind, I’m heading inside before I freeze!”
    “Good plan,” Frank said. “We’re heading for home too.”
    “I hear some hot cocoa calling me,” Chet added, shivering.
    “Good luck with your business,” Joe said. “What is it you do, by the way?”
    “Small plastics manufacturing,” Myint said. “Holder trays, bins, that kind of thing. Like I said, though, I’m thinking about selling. Good luck getting home.”
    “Thanks again,” Frank said. Myint hiked back to his factory while Chet and the Hardys slowly climbed upslope to the buggy.
    “I was so worried!” Iola said when they finallyreached the top. “I felt helpless waiting up here.”
    “I’m just glad you weren’t caught in the snowslide,” Joe said, giving her a quick hug.
    “No sense searching further,” Frank said. “The snowfall will have wiped out all the tracks by now.”
    “We need to get home before we all freeze, anyway,” Joe said.
    The near-blizzard made it difficult to see, and the howling wind made it impossible to carry on a conversation during the ride home. The teens could barely even hear the chugging of the buggy’s four-cylinder engine over the wail of the wind. They drove cautiously through the woods, then skirted a half-dozen farm ponds as they retraced their course back to the barn.
    When they finally arrived, all four of them looked more like abominable snowpeople than teenagers. Icicles hung like daggers from the