Danger on Vampire Trail by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

campers than the boys had imagined. Some were in trailers, while others emerged from bright striped tents and waded into the water for a morning swim.
    Boats began to move across the lake. Some were small; others were as large as the white cruiser.
    â€œWe’ll be all day at this job,” Frank said, scanning the long shoreline. It stretched for miles ahead before curving around toward the low hills on the other side of the lake.
    The Hardys pulled ashore several times to ask campers if they had seen the white cabin cruiser but no one had. At noon they approached land to quiz a number of boys and girls who were their own age. All ran down to the water’s edge to greet Frank and Joe as they beached their boat.
    â€œHi,” Frank said, stepping out. He introduced himself and his brother.
    The young people proved to be high school students from Kansas City, who had driven west on vacation. Their chaperons, Mr. and Mrs. Rickle, gave the Hardys a warm welcome.
    Joe spoke up. “Mrs. Rickle, do you mind answering some questions?”
    â€œNot at all,” the woman replied.
    One of the girls who had crowded around giggled. “Is this a Gallup poll or something?” she asked.
    Joe grinned. “Nothing like that,” he replied. “We’re looking for a cruiser.”
    â€œWhat kind of cruiser?” Mr. Rickle inquired.
    After Frank described it, Mr. Rickle remarked, “Pretty classy job.” He turned to the campers. “Have any of you seen one like it in this area?”
    The group had been paddling around the reservoir for three days, but no one had seen a boat that fitted the Hardys’ description.
    â€œDid you lose it?” Mrs. Rickle asked half-jokingly.
    â€œSomeone else did,” Frank said.
    â€œIt would be pretty hard to lose a thing like that,” one of the girls remarked. She had long flaxen hair and a quizzical smile.
    â€œAll right,” Joe said with an embarrassed grin. “It was stolen. We’re on the trail of it.”
    â€œAre you sure it’s on this lake?” the girl went on.
    â€œDon’t be so nosy, Barbie,” the woman said.
    â€œI’m sorry, Mom.”
    â€œYou don’t have to be sorry,” Frank said. “We’re the curious type ourselves.”
    The girl laughed and Frank said, “Well, thanks a lot. We’d better be moving along.”
    Mr. Rickle glanced at his watch, then to a barbecue pit in front of one of the tents, where hot dogs were roasting on a grill.
    â€œYou can’t go without food,” he said.
    â€œWell, we really—” Frank protested.
    â€œCome to think of it,” Joe interrupted, looking at Barbie, “I’m hungry.”
    â€œThat settles it.” Mr. Rickle grinned. “Come and join us. If you don’t mind sitting on the ground, that is. We’re not fancy.”
    The campers laughed and joked, their appetites whetted by the aroma of sizzling frankfurters. Barbie popped a chef’s hat on her head, speared the hot dogs with a long fork, laid them deftly on the rolls and sang out, “Come and get ’em while they’re hot!”
    The Hardys ate two apiece, thanked their hosts, and said good-by.
    â€œBut you can’t go without some cake,” Barbie shrieked.
    â€œHonestly,” Frank said, “I’m stuffed.”
    The girl, however, would not take no for an answer. She wrapped two huge pieces of chocolate layer cake in aluminum foil, tucked them into a small paper bag, and handed it to Joe.
    â€œThanks,” Joe said. “You’ve been awfully kind to us.”
    The Rickles waved as the rubber boat putted away.
    Another dozen stops were made along the shore to question campers. Some had vague recollections of having seen the white cruiser. But nothing definite turned up. By now they were on the far side of the reservoir and the sun was low. A strong wind churned the water to whitecaps.
    â€œWe’d better get