The Sign Of The Crooked Arrow Part 10

"What is it?" Winger queried, while Joe jumped Up and looked out Frank's window.

"There among the trees," Frank pointed.

Joe and the pilot scanned the woods. Chet was too busy thinking about his pancakes to pay much attention.

"I see it!" Joe exclaimed. "It's a giant arrow cut out of the woods," he cried excitedly.

"And it's crooked!" Frank observed.

Winger was puzzled. "How the deuce could that happen?" he asked.

He banked to go back and look at the strange 97 sight again. By this time Chet's curiosity was aroused, and he, too, looked and exclaimed in amazement.

"It looks," said Frank, "as if the timber had been cut purposely in the form of an S-shaped arrow."

"So it does," the pilot commented. "Never saw it before, but then I seldom fly over this country."

"Let's circle around to see if we can spot any more arrows," Joe suggested.

"Okay with me," the pilot agreed, "if you've got the time. I have plenty."

Winger flew in ever-widening circles. The dense woodland was unbroken by any other arrows etched in the deep greenery.

Finally, the pilot came back again to the crooked arrow. Frank nudged Joe, who bent his head closer to his brother.

"Do you see where the arrow points?" he whis-peied excitedly.

"Right toward Crowhead Ranch!" Joe answered.

"I'm afraid," Frank said, "that Crowhead is a marked ranch!"

"But why?" Joe puzzled. "What possible connection could there be between a knockout cigarette and a cattle ranch?"

"When we know that, Joe, I'll feel a lot easier about the safety of the Hardy family," his brother replied.

98 "I wish we could go down and see if anybody lives here," Joe said. "It might be a hide-out for the crooked arrow gang!"

"No chance of landing among these trees," Frank declared.

As the pilot headed away from the woodland arrow, Joe noticed a cleared spot beyond the arrow's head. It was barely large enough for a plane to land, and a take-off would be almost impossible.

Nevertheless Joe was about to point out the spot to Winger with the idea of a possible landing, when suddenly the airplane's motor began to sputter. The flier looked back at the boys, his forehead wrinkled with anxiety.

"I may have to take her down!" he called grimly.

Winger worked frantically, but the engine failed to respond. With a sickly wheeze, it conked out.

The sudden silence brought Chet out of his squeamish disinterest in the trip.

"Gee!-Oh, gos.h.!.+"

The wind whined against the plane's surfaces as the craft, under Winger's steady hand, made for the clearing that Frank had seen. Chet closed his eyes, but the Hardys, fascinated by the flier's skill, watched every move.

The plane banked, nearly cras.h.i.+ng into the tree-tops. At last it settled down in the clearing without overturning.

99 "Whew!" Chet cried out. "That was too close for comfort!"

"Sure was," said Winger. "And I hope we can get out of here."

They all jumped from the plane. Frank offered to help examine the engine for the trouble spot. He was an expert mechanic as a result of having taken so many jalopies apart and put them together again.

"Joe, how about you and Chet taking a look around to see if anyone lives in these woods?" he suggested.

"Okay," his brother agreed.

Chet stared at the unknown and, he figured, perhaps hostile surroundings. He was not of a mind to move one foot.

"A walk will do you good," Joe urged.

Chet remained where he was. "I knew it," he said. "I come out West for a good time, and the first thing I know I'm in a gangsters' hide-out."

"That shouldn't bother you. How about that judo you learned?" Joe needled him. "You could throw a couple of gunmen right over your shoulder."

"G-gunmen?" Chet stuttered. "That settles it. I'll help on the motor. You and Frank go."

The boy could not be persuaded to leave, so the Hardys went off together. They advanced among the trees cautiously, but there were no signs of human habitation.

100 Someone had been at the spot within a few weeks, however, because the land in the crooked arrow area had been stripped of all new growth, evidently to keep the arrow sign in plain sight from the air.

"This spot is just a marker for members of the crooked arrow gang flying over it," Frank concluded.

The boys hunted for any clues to the crooks' ident.i.ty but found nothing. Finally they returned to the plane. Winger had located the trouble. It was in the fuel line.

"n.o.body around," Joe reported, "but from the cuts on the stumps, it's a sure bet those trees were felled on purpose. It was no natural phenomenon."

"Whoever did it surely went to a lot of trouble," commented Winger, as he tightened a coupling in the fuel pipe. A few minutes later he said, "Well, we're ready to take off. The really tough job's ahead; to get out of here." He eyed the length of the clearing. "If we're lucky, we can make it," he said. "But I wish we could throw off some excess weight."

Joe eyed Chet slyly.

"No, not me!" the boy protested, then grinned foolishly for having fallen for Joe's quip.

They climbed into the plane, and Winger took his place at the controls. The pilot taxied to the end of the clearing and turned, taking advantage of 101 every inch of ground. He applied the brakes until the motor roared, then zipped down the natural runway.

The boys held their breaths as the plane sped toward the trees at the far end of the open s.p.a.ce. Suddenly, with a bound like a high jumper, the craft nosed up sharply. Boughs clutched at the underside of the fuselage, but the s.h.i.+p soared into the sky unscathed. Winger was perspiring as he leveled off.

"That sure was swell," Frank praised him, and the others added words of commendation. It was late afternoon when the plane landed at Crowhead, without further adventure. Frank had identified the ranch from the layout of the buildings, and Winger had set the wheels down on a big field alongside the house.

Chet eyed his surroundings with suspicious alarm. He half expected a band of Indians with poisoned arrows to rush out and start shooting.

Instead, everything seemed to be peaceful. Half a dozen friendly cowhands ambled toward the plane. Upon learning Frank and Joe were nephews of Mrs. Ruth Hardy, they took out the luggage and two of the men preceded the boys to the house with it.

Frank paid Winger, and they said good-bye, as he wanted to get back to El Paso before dark.

102 Two other cowhands escorted the three boys to the ranch house. Cousin Ruth met them at the door.

"It's a shame about your dad," she exclaimed, "but I'm glad to see you boys, anyway."

The boys introduced diet to their relative, who had changed considerably since they had last seen her. Cousin Ruth's hair, once blond, now was streaked with gray, and her face was careworn from the ordeal of her husband's death and the responsibilities of the ranch. She said nothing about her worries, however.

After the visitors had been shown to two well-furnished bedrooms, they were invited to a sumptuous lunch. Chet was in his glory.

"Golly," he beamed, seeing the platter of steaks, "Bayport was never like this!"

When the meal was over, the boys walked around to get acquainted with the place. It was not until dusk had fallen and work had ceased for the night that Ruth Hardy met them again and brought up the subject which the boys were so eager to hear.

They had gathered in her attractive living room. The widow closed the door, glanced furtively out the window, then launched into the story of the difficulties at Crowhead. The boys leaned forward attentively.

"One by one my best cowboys have been dis103 appearing," Cousin Ruth said. "They leave very mysteriously, taking their saddles and all their clothing with them."

"And don't tell you they're going?" Frank asked.

"They tell no one. As a result, Hank, my foreman, hasn't been able to get all the ranch work done."

"Can't you hire new hands?" Joe spoke up.

"They won't work here," their cousin replied. "We've advertised. The story has got around that Crowhead is-well-jinxed. n.o.body has heard from the men who disappear."

"What do the police say?" Joe asked.

"The sheriff," said the widow, "has done all he can to solve the mystery, but the men keep vanis.h.i.+ng into thin air."

As Cousin Ruth talked, night dropped into the valley. She switched on the living-room light, at the same time saying: "You boys must be tired. Perhaps you had better go to bed.

We get up very early here."

"And I'd like to do some watching early in the morning," Frank said. "Come on, fellows."

As he rose from his chair, he glanced out the window. A pair of unfriendly eyes was peering into the room! Then a forehead ducked down and disappeared.

CHAPTER XII.

A Suspicious Foreman.

"somebody is spying on us already!" Frank thought.

He sidled over to the window, but whoever had been peering through it had disappeared. Excusing himself from his hostess, Frank ran to the kitchen, then out the back door. He hoped, by doubling back, to catch the intruder unawares.

The boy made his way quietly around the building. n.o.body was near the window.

As Frank listened for a sound to indicate the eavesdropper's whereabouts, he heard hoofbeats. They seemed to come from the direction of the corral, then rumble off in the distance like the m.u.f.fled beat of a drum.

"He got away in a hurry," Frank thought in disgust.

When he returned inside, Cousin Ruth asked him what had happened. Not wis.h.i.+ng to worry her, 104.

105 the boy merely said he had heard a noise and ;von-dered about it.

Frank kept his discovery secret until he and Joe were alone in their room. Chet already had tun> bled into bed, and his gentle snoring indicated he was sound asleep.

"I think we'd better not alarm Cousin Ruth," Frank said when he had completed his story, and Joe agreed. "But there's something I'd like to ask her before we turn in," he added, as an idea came to him.

Seeing a light still on in the living room, he went to find his cousin. She was reading.

"Oh," she said in surprise, "would you boys like a snack before retiring? I forgot to ask you."

"No, thank you," Frank replied. "Joe and I were talking about the mystery. We wondered how many horses are in the corral. Seems like an awful lot of them."

"We have twenty-five now," Mrs. Hardy said, a note of sadness in her voice. "We used to have many more, but conditions here forced me to sell them."

Frank said good night again and went to his room, and suggested a plan to Joe.

Instead of undressing, the Hardys turned out their light and waited. In a few minutes their cousin went to her bedroom. Half an hour later 106 Cro'.vhead Ranch was cloaked in dense stillness, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the occasional mournful howl of a coyote.

"Let's go now," Frank whispered.

The boys tiptoed to the kitchen and opened the back door. Making their way to the corral, they could hear the slight noise of the horses, who sensed the presence of strangers.

"Hope they don't rouse anybody," Frank whispered.

Just then the moon, whose ghostly light had been concealed behind a ma.s.s of somber clouds, broke into the open sky. In the dim glow cast over the corral, Frank and Joe could see the horses.

"We'll both count 'em," Frank said.

After a moment of silence, Joe whispered, "Twenty-four!"

"That's what I get!" Frank replied.

"There's one missing," Joe said excitedly.

"That might mean," Frank reasoned, "that the person who looked in the window and rode off works for Crowhead."

"Listen!" Joe warned suddenly.