The Missing Chums Quotes

“Mystery INSTANTLY Frank grabbed the steering wheel held by his brother. He twisted it violently and pulled out the throttle at the same time. For a moment the Sleuth banked hard and balanced on her side, while the huge tilting sails hovered overhead! One-two-three-four-dark sailboat hulls sliced safely across the speedboat’s boiling wake as she shot outward into the bay. “Wow! That last one only missed us by a foot!” Biff exclaimed. “Oh, boy, let’s not do that again!” Chet said shakily. “You okay, Joe?” Frank asked as he slid back to his side of the boat. “Yes, thanks to you!”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums: The Hardy Boys

“pell-mell”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums

“A brief examination of the gray bluff revealed a narrow cleft leading to the top of the precipice. Joe, ascending first, found himself on another path which seemed to rim the island from the top of the bluffs. “Here’s the trail the hermit used to keep us in sight yesterday,” he told the others. After scrambling up, Frank, Tony, and Jerry paused for a look about. Below them sparkled the bright ocean, extending to the mainland a few miles away. Behind lay a little plateau, overgrown with small pines and scrub oaks. In the center of the flat area rose a steep, rocky hill which gave the island its humping silhouette. “A hut would be easy to camouflage among those trees,” Frank remarked. “We’ll have to spread out and comb every foot of the woods.” Though the youths worked carefully around the plateau, they found no sign of any shelter. On the island’s seaward side, where the growth was sparse, the boys checked the sides of the steep hill for caves. They saw none.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums

“After the girls had stepped onto firm sand, the four boys tied their mooring ropes to trees at the edge of the beach. All went ashore and gazed at the lonely spot. “This is a spooky place,” commented Iola, looking around her uneasily. “It does give one the creeps,” Callie agreed. The boys laughed but felt they should proceed carefully. With Frank and Joe in the lead, they set off on a faint path that wound along the shore at the base of the steep, rocky hill which formed the heart of the island. Above the searchers loomed jagged cliffs, cut here and there by deep ravines, thick with pines and coarse grass.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums

“Nice lines,” commented Joe. “Pass close to her, will you, Frank?” Quietly, with her engine throttled down, the motorboat drew abreast of the larger vessel. It was now dusk and a light shone in her cabin from which came the sound of activity. Frank gazed in admiration at the tall masts and shipshape rigging.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums

“By the time the boys were ready to leave, the sun was setting. Frank revved up the Sleuth’s power plant and sent the craft knifing through the swells. Soon the boys passed out the narrow mouth of Northport harbor. Frank turned the Sleuth southward toward Bayport. The sea was calmer than it had been during the day. On the ocean’s horizon the darkness gathered slowly, and finally a few stars were beginning to push through when the coastal islands came into view on the Sleuth’s starboard side. After passing Jagged Reef safely, Frank ran in closer to the islands. Ahead they saw a tall, limp white sail. As the Sleuth drew nearer, the boys made out the masts and hull of a trim-looking schooner, anchored for the night off one of the islets.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums

“It was well past noon when the boys sighted Northport on their left. Passing between a pair of entrance buoys, the Sleuth came off the swelling ocean onto the calm surface of a small, well-protected harbor. On one side a forest of thick masts rose from a fleet of sturdy fishing boats. At the far end of the bay, bright-colored pleasure craft rode at anchor. Slender, pencillike masts marked the sailboats. On the shore nearby were the yellow wooden skeletons of boats under construction. Joe guided the Sleuth toward a large dock with gasoline pumps, which extended into the water from the boatyard. “This must be the yard that sponsored the regatta,” Frank commented. “Bring her in, Joe.” Within minutes the young detectives had made their craft secure and scrambled onto the dock. They hurried down the wooden planking and turned onto Waterfront Street. There were restaurants, souvenir shops, and boat-supply stores. All of them were well kept and busy. The boys stopped in a luncheonette for a snack, then hurried on. They”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums

“Steadily the Sleuth plowed northward. Joe shaded his eyes with his hand as dots of land appeared off the coast ahead. “There are the islands where Chet and Biff wanted to camp,” he noted. “Say! They’re pretty isolated—and would be likely spots for hiding kidnap victims! We ought to search them if we don’t find some clue to the boys in Northport.” “I’ll pass them as close as I can,” Frank offered. “Maybe we’ll see something.” One by one the line of islets could be seen. Though the Hardys watched carefully, they saw only sand, pines, and huge stone formations. Some of the islands were surrounded by dangerous half-submerged rocks.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums

“The black-and-silver motorcycles backfired like pistol shots, then roared from the drive and down High Street. The riders headed out Shore Road, past the private docks. The fog of the night before had given way to a bright-blue summer morning. As the boys sped along in a cool, salty breeze they watched the white sand of the beach on their right. There was no sign of the Sleuth. Finally they reached the head of the bay and turned sharply, following the seacoast northward. For a while Frank and Joe saw only the big green rollers of the Atlantic as they broke into foaming white along the sand and rocks.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums

“At this point, Mrs. Hardy brought the discussion to an end by setting before each boy a stack of steaming, golden-brown pancakes. Aunt Gertrude came in behind her with a block of yellow butter and a tall pitcher of maple syrup. “There are more cakes on the griddle,” she said. “You need your strength.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums

“After stowing their costumes in the carrier behind Frank’s motorcycle, the two boys set off for the center of Bayport. White wisps of fog swirled in the glare of their headlights and almost blotted out traffic. Both riders slowed to a cautious pace. At last the boys maneuvered to a stop in Milton Place just off Main Street. Through the fog and gathering dusk, vague lights could be seen in the big brick building on the opposite corner. “They’re working overtime at the bank,” Joe pointed out and grinned. “Counting the extra money they took in during evening hours.” The brothers walked around the corner onto Main Street and entered a soda shop. Minutes later they emerged, each carrying a two-gallon drum of ice cream packed in dry ice. “Wow! This is cold!” said Joe, as they turned into the alley. Frank and Joe placed the cylinders in Joe’s carrier. “Now for the party!” Frank grinned.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums

“Callie and Iola are giving the party together,” Frank explained. “That reminds me, Joe. We’re supposed to pick up the ice cream!” A short time later, as Frank and Joe stepped from the house, they noted the gray, leaden sky overhead. “Looks as if that fogbank has moved in from the bay,” Joe commented. “It’ll be thick downtown.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums

“The Hardys kicked their motorcycles into life and started toward town. When they reached Bayport’s main street most of the stores were closing. “We’re in luck!” Frank declared as he parked in front of the costume store. “It’s still open. Mr. French has a couple of customers in there!” The boys hurried toward the door. Through the wide shopwindow they could see the tall, spare proprietor, with thinning blond hair and a small graying mustache. He was talking earnestly to two men whose backs were turned. None of them noticed the boys.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums

“After the Hardys’ craft had been safely moored in their boathouse, Tony headed the Napoli out into the bay. He turned and followed the shoreline to the long jetties where the freighters were docked. Soon the Napoli passed under the gray bow of a big cutter moored at the Coast Guard pier. Tony made his boat fast, and the six boys climbed up a steel ladder onto the dock. They entered the small, neat station office, which had a short-wave tower on its roof. The officer on duty rose from his desk. “Hello, Frank—Joe—fellows,” he greeted them. The personnel at the Bayport station knew the Hardys well. More than once they had cooperated with the boys and their father on cases.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums

“The Sleuth, her steering mechanism disabled by Frank’s emergency turn, was clearly completing a wide circuit. “We might as well save gas,” Joe said, throttling down. “One thing’s sure. We won’t make Shantytown today.” Glumly the four sat still while the distant shores seemed to rotate around them. To the east, where the bay opened toward the sea, a grayish mist lay over the black water. “Look at that fogbank,” Biff said. “I hope we’re not stuck here when it rolls in. It would be mighty hard for anybody to find us.” “I don’t think that pea soup will move in before dark,” Frank said, but there was a note of concern in his voice.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums

“By now the speedy craft was far out on the broad bay. The water had grown choppy and was turning from green to steely gray. In the distance the boys watched a cluster of white sails skimming before the breeze.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums

“Outside, Frank and Joe mounted their motorcycles and rode through the downtown traffic to the Bayport waterfront. Leaving the big commercial piers behind, they took the Shore Road, past a section of private docks to where the brothers kept their trim speedboat, the Sleuth. Driving on, the Hardys followed the road along the curve of the left bank of the bay to the mouth of the harbor. Here they turned north and continued parallel with the ocean. Soon they saw a jumble of board shanties on the wide beach ahead. Some were nothing more than open lean-tos, but others had glass windows and stovepipes. Pieces of ragged clothing fluttered from ropes in the breeze. Smoke curled up lazily from a small fire around which three men lay, watching the steam from a black pot which hung on a tripod above the flames.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums

“dark eyes. His brow was furrowed in a deep scowl, but in a flash he assumed”
― Franklin W. Dixon, The Missing Chums