The Pentagon Spy by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online

it.”
    Together they shifted the block back and forth and drew it from its position in the wall. Frank shone his beam into the cavity. They saw a parcel wrapped in brown paper inside.
    â€œMaybe it’s a bomb!” Chet said in alarm.
    â€œI won’t take any chances,” Frank promised. Picking up a long, thin stick from the floor, he stood to one side of the cavity and prodded the brown paper off the parcel. Underneath was a white cube about six inches square on each side.
    â€œThat’s no bomb,” Frank muttered. Reaching in, he lifted the cube out, examined it, and began to chuckle. The whiteness was the reflection of waxed paper. Removing it, he held up a couple of sandwiches.
    â€œOne of the farmhands must have put it behind the cinder block to keep the rats away,” Frank surmised.
    He put the sandwiches back in the paper covering, replaced them in their hiding place, and with Chet’s help pushed the cinder block into its old position. Then the boys proceeded toward the rear door of the barn, where the machinery entered and left. It was locked. Slowly, they continued along the wall and finally arrived back at the steps.
    â€œLet’s go up to the next level,” Frank suggested. “I don’t think there are any clues down here.”
    Chet nodded, and they climbed the stone staircase to examine the ground floor. This part of the barn was used for storing grain. Frank and Chet shuffled forward cautiously, passing bins of wheat, oats, rye, and corn.
    At the end of the row of bins, Frank turned right in the darkness, guided by the narrow beam of his flashlight. Chet, who was behind him, had caught his sleeve on a nail, which held him up for a moment. When he reached the place where Frank had turned, the light was too far away for him to see. He went left, expecting to catch up with his friend. Suddenly something clapped him on the shoulder, making him stop in paralyzed fright.
    â€œIs th-that you, Frank?” Chet whispered tremulously.
    There was no answer. He reached up and felt a soft pressure inside burlap sacking. The truth dawned on him. The corner of a large sack of grain had shifted under its own weight, sloped over as he passed, and struck him on the shoulder!
    Running the back of his hand across his forehead, Chet hurried on until he saw a dim light in the wall of the barn. He figured it must be the open door to another room and that Frank was in there. Quickly he stepped through and, with a terrified scream, plunged into darkness! He landed on a pile of corn in the silo.
    Groggily he struggled to his feet and discovered that the aperture of the silo was too high for him to climb through. “Frank!” he yelled. “Frank, help me!”
    The older Hardy boy, having circled the room, was near enough to hear Chet shouting. Hastening to the spot, he shone his light down into the silo. Chet stood there, ankle-deep in corncobs. His mouth was open and his eyes were glazed.
    â€œChet, are you inspecting the corn for the horses and cows?” Frank asked with a chuckle.
    â€œJust get me out of here!” Chet pleaded.
    Frank spotted a rope on a hook and lowered one end to his friend. Then he wound the opposite end around a pulley used in lifting heavy sacks of grain and helped Chet scramble out.
    â€œI’ve had it!” Chet declared emphatically. “I want to get out of here pronto!”
    â€œWe haven’t finished investigating,” Frank pointed out. “There’s the second floor—”
    â€œOh, all right,” Chet grumbled. “But don’t lose me again!”
    They ascended the stairs to the next level of the barn. Here they made a rapid inspection of lighter farm implements—shovels, hoes, rakes, crowbars, pruning hooks, and so on.
    â€œNothing here either,” Frank said finally. “Let’s get back to the loft and see what Joe’s doing.”
    But when the two arrived, Joe was gone!
    â€œWhere in