The Mystery of the Spiral Bridge by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

hurt?” Chet put in.
    â€œFortunately, no—they scrambled to safety in time.” Mr. Prito sighed. “Unless we can find out who is causing the sabotage, and prove it, I may have to give up the whole project.”
    â€œAnd lose all that money?” Biff said.
    Joe spoke up. “Frank and I were just asking the fellows if they could go to Kentucky with us. Our idea is to get jobs on the road crew and maybe then we can solve this mystery.”
    â€œA bold idea. What is the rest of your plan?”
    Frank first of all inquired if Mr. Prito had a trusted foreman who could handle the hiring of the boys.
    â€œYes, John Losi. I sent him down to Kentucky temporarily, because the regular hiring agent, a local man named Bond Deemer, is on a week’s leave from the job.”
    â€œWhat could be sweeter!” said Joe.
    Then the Hardys went on to explain their scheme. Each of the boys would get a different job. Tony could be a mechanic for road-building equipment, such as graders and earth-moving ma chines.
    â€œBig Biff here could man a truck,” said Joe, and Frank suggested that Phil sign on as a timekeeper, to see whether anyone stayed away from work for any length of time.
    Phil grinned happily. “Great! That’ll give me time to sketch.”
    â€œHey, what about me?” demanded Chet.
    â€œA laborer,” Frank said. “That’ll really build up your muscles—while you’re picking up gossip from the other workers.”
    â€œSort of like a spy, eh?”
    â€œThat’s right,” Tony interjected. “Secret agent 008, with the accent on the a-t-e.”
    Chet grinned and accepted his new role. “And what may I ask, are Frank and Joe Hardy going to be? Spy supervisors?”
    â€œEspionage foremen, so to speak,” quipped Tony.
    â€œNot quite, pal.” Frank explained that the Hardys would work with the bridge crew. In that way, they could keep close tabs on the workmen in case one or more might be connected with sabotaging the project.
    â€œBut everybody knows the name Hardy,” Mr. Prito said. “The saboteurs would soon catch on that you are Fenton’s sons.”
    In answer Frank pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. “We’ve already worked that out, by each of us keeping his first name and changing only the surname.”
    Joe added, “The payroll records can be corrected for the government later, can’t they, Mr. Prito?”
    â€œYes, indeed.”
    Frank unfolded the paper and spread it on the table.
    â€œYou picked our fake names already?” Biff asked with a grin.
    â€œSure thing, Listen:
    Frank Teller
Joe Jensen
Chet Ball
Biff McGuire
Tony Gonzales
Phil Rubinow.”
    â€œA masterpiece!” Phil declared. “Joe, you’re blond like a Scandinavian, and Tony could pass for Spanish.”
    â€œBut what about Chet Ball?” asked Biff.
    â€œOh, I get it,” said Chet. “That metal ball I’ve been shot-putting.”
    The boys began trying out their aliases on one another.
    â€œBiff McGuire,” said Biff. “Not bad, sounds like a real rugged character.”
    â€œAnd we’ll need a few on this trip,” declared Joe.
    By now the Hardys had generated such enthusiasm among their friends that Mr. Prito finally acceded to the plan.
    â€œIt’s a risky one, remember!” the contractor warned. “But good luck. You can reach me here if necessary. I have several other projects going.”
    Frank and Joe suggested that the other boys leave Bayport one by one, at varying times, in order to avoid attracting attention.
    â€œWe’re leaving on the early bus tomorrow morning,” said Frank. “We’ll see you all in Kentucky.”
    On the way home Joe was jubilant. Now that they had hoodwinked their enemies by their own microphone, he was sure the criminals could be thrown completely off the trail.
    Joe laughed. “Maybe we can say