The Sting of the Scorpion Read Free Page B

evidently noticing that the Hardy Boys were in trouble, left his post and hurried toward them. Two or three passing cars slowed or halted so their occupants could see what was going on.
    The guard started to bluster at the Hardys again as Leroy reached the scene.
    â€œTake it easy,” the black youth said to the officer. “I told them it would be all right to get out of their car just this once. They wanted to take a look at the tree.”
    â€œDon’t you know it’s against regulations for visitors to leave their cars?”
    â€œSure, but they only wanted to get out for a couple of minutes. And there’s nothing dangerous around here.”
    The only animals in sight were a pair of mild-eyed gazelles, grazing and paying not the slightest attention to human goings-on.
    â€œIt’s still against regulations,” the officer said roughly.
    â€œOkay. If I’ve done wrong, report me,” Leroy said. “Don’t hassle these guys.”
    The guard grunted and told the Hardys to go back to their car. “And from now on,” he warned, “obey the park rules!”
    Joe pointed to the brown creature crawling on the grass near the envelope. “If you’re so anxious to protect visitors, better get rid of this scorpion before it stings someone.”
    The guard was taken aback and seemed reluctant to touch the odd creepy-crawler. Leroy grinned and brought an empty milk carton from his booth to scoop up the scorpion for safe disposal.
    Frank retrieved the envelope, and after thanking the black youth, he and Joe rejoined their buddies in the car.
    â€œWhat was that all about?” Biff asked.
    Joe filled him and the others in as Frank peered inside the envelope. It contained a card bearing a seemingly senseless jumble of letters.
    â€œSome kind of code,” the elder Hardy boy declared and passed the card to his brother. “Guess we’ll have to try cracking it later.”
    Joe studied the letters while Frank started the car and turned back onto the road.
    â€œI wonder if the same party planted both this code message and the scorpion?” Joe mused.
    â€œGood question,” Phil agreed.
    â€œThere’s another,” Chet put in. “Would a scorpion sting kill you?”
    â€œIt would certainly hurt,” Frank said, “and I think the venom of some species can be fatal. Matter of fact I intend to read up on scorpions in the encyclopedia when I get home.”
    â€œLikewise,” said Joe.
    â€œYou really think someone planted that scorpion, and tried to set you guys up?” Phil inquired.
    Frank shrugged. “I doubt that it got there on its own.”
    On either side of the road roamed zebras and several kinds of antelope, which the boys identified from the park folder as gnus, elands, and hartebeests.
    Ahead, they were coming to a fenced-in elephant pen. Because the animals were big enough and strong enough to overturn a car, visitors were not allowed to enter their compound and could only drive past the fence, a few yards from the road.
    Nevertheless, spectators were able to get an excellent view. Three of the huge beasts were drinking at a shallow creek that flowed through the enclosure. One was wading in the stream and scooping up water, then flipping its trunk backward for a do-it-yourself shower.
    â€œI wouldn’t mind cooling off like that,” Chet observed enviously, fanning his chubby-cheeked face with the now-empty peanut bag.
    â€œWhy don’t you get in there and join ’em?” Biff joked. “You’d look right at home—you’re built along the same lines!”
    â€œDon’t knock it.” Frank grinned. “That kind of beef makes a good football lineman.”
    Visitors’ cars had slowed to a halt and everyone seemed to be enjoying the spectacle. In a foreign-made station wagon just ahead, a bearded man with a camera was waving and shouting to attract the elephant’s attention,