The Ghost at Skeleton Rock by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

spinning kettles to be granulated into sugar.
    A flight of steel steps led up to a narrow catwalk. At the far end was an enclosed cab, where the operator controlled the crushers.
    â€œThat must be Rodriguez up there.” Frank had to shout to make himself heard.
    The boys climbed the stairs and made their way along the catwalk, clinging to a slender handrail. They were fascinated by the scene below. On their left were the huge rollers. On the right there was a steep drop past the giant flywheel into a pit of churning machinery.
    Suddenly Frank and Joe were shoved from behind. Taken off guard, they lost their balance. With wild yells, the boys toppled over the left rail!

CHAPTER XV
    Atomic Cargo
    As FRANK went over the railing, he managed to clutch an iron upright with one hand. Joe grabbed his brother’s belt. White with fear, the two boys hung dangling above the pit of sugar-crushing machinery!
    â€œHelp! Help!” they shouted. But the thundering machinery drowned out their voices.
    Would Señor Rodriguez hear their cries in time to save them from a horrible fate?
    Joe reached up, and by stretching was able to grasp a bar and let go the belt. The boys’ last ounce of strength was ebbing fast when Frank saw a figure in tan work clothes running along the catwalk toward them.
    â€œHang on, Joe!” he gasped. “Someone’s coming!”
    An instant later Frank’s wrist was seized in a strong grip, while another brawny arm reached down to grab Joe’s. Singlehanded, the foreman hauled the boys across the rail.
    By the time the Hardys were dropping weakly onto the catwalk, two other workmen arrived on the scene to lend a hand.
    â€œSanta Maria!” gasped the boys’ rescuer, who had turned pale himself. “Never have I seen such a narrow escape!”
    The men helped Frank and Joe down the iron steps and out into the fresh air.
    â€œThank you. Thank you very much,” Frank said to the man who had saved their lives. “Are you Señor Rodriguez?”
    â€œSí, I am Rodriguez,” the foreman replied. “And now do you mind telling me the reason why you came so close to killing yourselves?”
    Joe explained what had happened, adding that the boys had not seen the person who had shoved them. The brawny foreman exploded with anger. “If I get my hands on that killer, I will wring his neck!”
    Turning to the workers, he asked in Spanish if any of them had witnessed the incident. One man told of having seen a man run down from the catwalk and flee out the door. Through the mill window, he had seen him drive off in a car.
    Rodriguez said to the boys, “I can assure you none of my men would try such a hideous trick!”
    â€œI believe you,” Frank said quietly, then after a pause, he asked, “We came here to get directions to a place called Punta Cabezona.”
    â€œAh, sí,” said Rodriguez. “It is about five or six miles from here, but the road there is rather rough.” He gave the boys careful directions, and expressed the hope they would meet again under pleasanter circumstances.
    Frank and Joe thanked him, then walked back to the central office. As they entered, the manager looked up.
    â€œDid your friend find you, senores?” he inquired.
    â€œWhat friend?” Joe asked in surprise.
    â€œI did not catch his name, but he was a very tall man with a large head. I told him you had just gone over to the mill.”
    Frank and Joe exchanged knowing glances. Abdul! But how did he know they were here?
    After telling briefly about their close brush with death, Frank asked if he might use the telephone to call Señor Delgado. The manager, distressed that he had unwittingly helped the would-be killer, hastily agreed.
    â€œI—I do not know what to say, señores!” he gasped.
    â€œIt wasn’t your fault,” Frank assured him.
    The manager helped to put through the call, and Frank spoke to Senor