Speed Times Five by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online Page A

of the other competitors had already built a large fire.
    â€œThat fire’ll feel mighty good,” Frank said, still wet from rescuing Collins. He and Joe took up spots near the blaze and opened their food pouches.
    Kelly Hawk, the Clemenceaus, and a number of other competitors were seated around the fire nearby. Hawk sat stoically, staring into the fire. TheClemenceaus, though, were cooking a very tasty-looking meal—chicken in a white sauce with vegetables—in an aluminum pan with a folding handle.
    â€œHow can you eat that?” Victoria Clemenceau asked, eyeing the Hardys’ freeze-dried fare.
    Joe frowned. “It’s edible, it’s light, it’s easy to carry,” he said. “Doesn’t carting all that extra stuff slow you down?”
    â€œPerhaps,” Georges Clemenceau replied, “but it is worth it.”
    â€œJust because the conditions are barbaric, doesn’t mean we must eat like barbarians,” Victoria added.
    Those gathered around the fire laughed, even Kelly Hawk. As the laughter died away, the sounds of another conversation drifted to the Hardys’ ears.
    â€œI don’t care how far ahead you were,” Maggie Collins said, “you should have come back. We’re in this together, aren’t we?”
    â€œSure we are,” Quentin Curtis replied sheepishly. “But there was nothing I could do—honestly.”
    â€œQuent would have helped if he could have,” Robert Frid said. “Don’t forget, though, we need to keep our eyes on the prize here.”
    â€œC’mon,” Curtis said. “This isn’t the place to discuss this. Let’s take a walk down the riverbank.” The three of them turned and walked away.
    â€œWell,” Joe whispered to Frank, “at least Curtis isn’t getting off scot-free. I wish I could say the same of that Lupin guy. He should have stopped to help. Where is he, anyway?”
    Frank shrugged. “I saw his kayak on the shore when we landed. He must be off by himself somewhere.”
    By the time darkness fell, the riverbank camp was crowded with competitors. Many had not made the checkpoint cut-off by dark and would therefore be out of the race. Race rules required that there could be no boating after dark, and so the disqualified racers were forced to camp upstream—in less comfortable conditions than the checkpoint camp.
    The camera crews and race officials had a nice tent city higher up the riverbank, but the contestants were responsible for their own accommodations. Most of the racers had brought warm blankets in waterproof bags; the Clemenceaus and a few others had brought sleeping bags.
    Joe and Frank bedded down in blankets by the fire, glad to have made the cut. Slumber took the brothers quickly. They slept soundly until the noise of a helicopter woke them the next morning, just before dawn.
    â€œThat must be Bennett,” Kelly Hawk said, yawning. She rose from her spot near the fire and stretched. “He likes to keep tabs on his racers, but he’s not much for sleeping under the stars.”
    Sure enough, as Joe and Frank roused themselves, they saw Vince Bennett working his way through the camp—camera crew in tow—talking to the remaining racers.
    â€œUgh,” Joe said. “I’m in no mood to be on TV this morning.”
    â€œMe neither,” Frank said, stretching a kink out of his neck. “Let’s go check the boats before we eat.”
    â€œGood idea.”
    The brothers packed away their blankets and headed to the riverbank, where the kayaks lay beached. They found Michael Lupin crouched over his boat, working on something in the semidarkness.
    â€œHey, Lupin,” Joe said. “Why didn’t you stop to help us yesterday?”
    Lupin stood and scowled at the brothers. “This is a race, ” he said. “I’m in it to win, not to help other competitors.”
    â€œThere’s also a fair