Hide-and-Sneak Read Free Page B

helping him out now that you decided to ditch college,” Hal said.
    â€œHe gave me the summer to explore choices.” Andy glared at his buddy. “I’d say this is an interesting choice.”
    â€œHow about you guys?” Trisha said, walking over to Joe. “What kind of boat do you have?”
    â€œOh, the Sleuth ’s a great boat!” Joe said, but he yelped as the toe of Frank’s shoe caught him on the ankle.
    â€œWhoops, sorry,” Frank said, collecting his brother and Chet. “Yes, we’ve got a great little boat—and a big job getting it ready by tomorrow evening.”
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    Joe was still complaining about Frank’s interruption the next evening. “I can’t believe you kicked me!” He glared at his brother.
    Frank rolled his eyes and turned toward Chet. “How are you doing with the sleeping bags?”
    Chet climbed aboard with three bulky nylon sacks. “Last load.”
    A full moon rode the clear skies overhead. Its light was bright enough to read by. Frank openedthe package they’d been given. “Let’s get down to business.”
    The first thing they found was a folded map of Barmet Bay with some odd squiggles drawn on it.
    â€œI still say we could have just tailed that loudmouth Zack. It would have saved us a lot of nonsense.” Joe squinted at the next sheet of paper. “Oh, great. It’s marked ‘Clues.’”
    He began reading:
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    To find McGuffin, sail Barmet Bay.
Exactly where, we cannot say.
You’ll know you’ve gotten where you oughta
All’s quiet and dead in the water.
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    â€œPoetry?” Frank said in disbelief.
    â€œBad poetry too.” Joe handed over the sheet.
    â€œI don’t like that ‘dead in the water’ part,” Chet said.
    â€œNowadays, when people say something’s dead in the water, it usually doesn’t happen,” Frank explained. “It’s sailor’s slang, an expression that describes when a ship’s engines don’t work or if there’s no wind for the sails.”
    â€œWell, I spent the whole afternoon tuning up our engines.” Joe laughed. “And when it comes to wind, the bay usually has more than people want.”
    Frank and Chet nodded. Barmet Bay had a reputation for sudden squalls.
    As if in answer, the breeze off the water began picking up. Most of the docked vessels around them were sailboats. Riggings began to clang against tall aluminum masts. The marina filled with an echoing, ghostly sound.
    â€œWe’re going to get a great night’s sleep with that racket,” Joe growled, grabbing the chart so it didn’t blow away. Frank was still looking at the clue list.
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    You’ll know exactly where to pick it,
A watery graveyard—that’s the ticket.
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    â€œMore cheerful clues,” Chet said, furrowing his brow. He bent over the map. “You see any cemeteries down by the bay?”
    â€œNo, because your head is blocking the light!” Joe shifted the map. “Somehow a beach doesn’t sound like a good place for a graveyard. One good storm could wash everything away.”
    His finger went to an island at the mouth of the harbor. “But I think there’s a grave here on Merriam Island. They buried the old lighthouse keeper out there. It was a story on the news awhile back.”
    â€œWe might be looking around the lighthouse,”Frank said slowly, “but for a different reason. Some of those squiggles on the map look like sunken ships, don’t they?”
    â€œYeah,” Joe said, squinting again. “There’s a big cluster of them near the lighthouse. I guess that’s why they built the thing.”
    Chet nodded. “To warn people off Barmet Shoals.”
    â€œYeah. But there are rocks around the lighthouse too,” Joe said. “We almost tore the bottom off the Sleuth out there