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sputtered, then quit completely. Randy immediately dropped the nose in an effort to keep flying speed and avoid a stall.
    The boys looked ahead. Through the windshield all they could see was a formidable array of trees, dense brush, and hills strewn with rocks and boulders. They tightened their seat belts and braced themselves for the worst. There was no place to land. They would have to crash!

CHAPTER VII
    A Strange Request
    RANDY Watson, his face grim, desperately switched fuel tanks. He pumped the throttle but the engine failed to react.
    He put the plane into a gentle turn and headed down a narrow valley. The propeller slowly wind milled in the slipstream, as the anxious Hardys watched the ominous terrain rising steadily toward them.
    The pilot continued to manipulate the fuel valves, mixture control, and throttle. Frank nervously glanced at the altimeter. They were rapidly losing altitude.
    Finally Randy reached for a toggle switch marked “Booster Pump” and snapped it to the “On” position. He pumped the throttle vigorously. Suddenly the engine backfired—once, then twice. The boys held their breaths. There was a chugging sound for a few seconds! Then the engine roared to life.
    Randy pushed the throttle to full power. Already the tops of trees were whipping against the plane, leaving green-colored streaks along the leading edges of the wings. The pilot eased back on the control stick and managed to pull away from the treetops. Ahead, he saw that the valley bent sharply to the right.
    He banked the plane into a tight turn and followed the valley’s course. It seemed to grow narrower second by second; the steep hills flanking each side squeezed closer. Randy checked the airspeed indicator, then raised the nose to gain altitude. Soon the hilltops were flashing by below them.
    â€œWhew!” Joe exclaimed. “That was too close for comfort.”
    â€œWhat happened to the engine?” Frank asked the pilot.
    â€œFuel-pump failure, I think,” Randy said. “Right now, we’re operating on the booster. It’s acting as a kind of auxiliary pump, and should keep the engine running long enough to get us back to Bayport.”
    During the return trip Frank removed the second roll of film from the camera, and placed it with the other one on the seat beside him. Eventually the airport came into view, and Randy radioed the control tower for a straight-in approach. The boys could see an emergency truck stationed near the runway as they touched down.
    A small crowd had already collected on the parking ramp as they taxied in. One of the group was Jerry Madden.
    â€œWhat happened?” he queried anxiously.
    â€œThe pilot thinks it was fuel-pump failure,” Frank answered.
    â€œI heard him declare an emergency on the radio in the hangar,” said Jerry. “When Lance Peterson heard you fellows were aboard, he asked to see you right away.”
    â€œLance Peterson?” Frank said wonderingly. “He wants to see Joe and me?”
    The Hardys were so amazed at hearing Peterson’s request that they momentarily forgot about their photographing mission and near crash. They hurried immediately to the chief pilot’s office.
    When the brothers arrived, Peterson greeted them with a smile. His attitude had apparently undergone a complete change since they had met the first time.
    â€œI hear you boys had a pretty dose call,” he remarked.
    â€œClose enough!” Frank responded tersely. He was eager to find out why Peterson had asked to see them.
    The chief pilot looked haggard and worried. He sat down and nervously tapped the top of his desk with a pencil.
    â€œI learned only recently that you two are amateur detectives,” he said.
    â€œYes, we are,” Frank admitted. “But what has that to do with your asking to see us?”
    â€œI want you to take a case for me,” said Peterson. “Please don’t refuse.”
    Frank and Joe were