"Dixon, Franklin W - Hardy Boys 008 - The Mystery of Cabin Island" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dixon Franklin W)

Impulsive, blond-haired Joe snapped his fingers. "Let's call Chet and Biff and take our ice-yacht over to the island. I'd like to give it a quick preview."

"Okay. We can meet 'em at our dock."

Dark-haired Frank, eighteen and a year older than Joe, was just as eager to set foot on Cabin Island and also to skim over the ice, now glossy smooth after a long cold spell.

Joe dashed to the hall telephone and dialled the number of the Morton farmhouse. In a moment he was speaking to Chet Morton, a beefy team-mate on the Bayport High football eleven.

"What's up?" the stout youth asked.

"Get your long johns on," Joe told him. "We're going to whip out to Cabin Island on the Seagull. That wind on the bay'll really start your blood circulating!"

Frank and Joe had designed and built the ice-yacht during the previous summer. They had saved their money to buy materials and had worked slowly and carefully on the project. The craft was made so that it could be taken apart and compactly stored in the boathouse where the brothers' motorboat, the Sleuth, also was housed.

"Sounds great, but I don't know." Chet hesitated wistfully. "Mom's just mixing a batch of maple fudge."

"Save it till we get back - think of the appetite you'll work up!" Joe added with a chuckle, "Think of your waistline, too. We'll meet you at the boathouse in twenty minutes."

"Well - okay - as long as you don't go poking into any more mysteries."

"No promises, pal!" Grinning, Joe slammed down the receiver before Chet could object.

Moon-faced Chet Morton, who was much fonder of eating and relaxing than he was of dangerous adventures, was constantly bemoaning the Hardys' habit of becoming involved in crime cases. But the stocky youth was a loyal pal and could always be depended on in a tight spot.

After calling Biff Hooper, who agreed to the trip enthusiastically, Joe dressed warmly and hurried outside. Frank was already backing their convertible out of the garage.

The Hardys drove to the boathouse on Barmet Bay. Chet and Biff were waiting for them. Biff, a muscular youth whose hobby was amateur boxing, was dancing about, attempting to persuade plump Chet to spar with him.

Chet held up his hands to fend off the blows. He grinned as Frank and Joe walked towards them. "Glad you're here!" he exclaimed. "This guy is trying to use me for a punching bag!"

"Do you good," Biff rejoined. "Get you in shape!"

Frank laughed. "If you keep this up, Cabin Island won't be big enough for both of you - and us." He gave them hearty slaps on the back. "Let's get going!"

Joe opened the doors of the boathouse and led the way inside. The Seagull was chocked on boards which lay over the ice between the cat-walks. Suspended above it in a steel cradle was the, Sleuth.

From a gear shelf the boys took iron-pointed studs and attached them to their boots, then donned crash helmets and goggles. As they took the ice-yacht outside the wind whipped hard at their backs. Joe tilted the brake on the outside of the hull, so that the point dug firmly into the ice.

Ten minutes later the four had fastened the long runner plank crossways under the bow, raised the mast, and set sail. Quickly they climbed into the stern's cockpit.

"Strap yourselves in tight," Frank warned as he took the tiller. "That wind's strong and the Gull's rarin' to go.

He released the brake and the sleek white craft glided swiftly out into the bay, now solidly frozen except for the channel, which was kept open by the shipping lines and the Coast Guard.

Cold clear air stung the boys' faces and they were showered with ice chips from the bow runner. They waved to friends who were skating near the shore.

"Where is Cabin Island, anyway?" Biff called to the Hardys.

"In a cove off the bay," Frank shouted, as he guided the Seagull in a swooping half circle around a hole that had been cut in the ice by a fisherman.