The Sign Of The Crooked Arrow Part 19

Standing in front of him, looking up at the rider, was Pete, one of Crowhead's missing cowboys! The mounted man was giving him a tongue-las.h.i.+ng.

"You ran away from Crowhead of your own free will," the rider thundered. "But you're not going back of your own free will. n.o.body that works for Charlie Morgan ever double-crosses him and gets away with it!"

"Arrow Charlie!" Joe whispered to Pye.

"I won't tell nuthin'," Pete pleaded. "I only 188 want to git back to cowpunchin'. I warn't made to work in no factory!"

"You know our bargain," Morgan shouted. "I'll give you one more chance to change your mind."

"Listen, Charlie," Pete said, holding his hands out pleadingly, "what511 happen to me if the sheriff catches up with us!"

"Don't worry about sheriffs, or city d.i.c.ks either," Charlie sneered. "They're a bunch of fools. Fen-ton Hardy tried to find out about my racket." The crook guffawed loudly. "One of his sons and that fat guy are my prisoners right now!"

Pete leaned against a tree. "Yo're takin' an awful chance, Charlie," he said. "Frank an'

Joe's father-"

"That gumshoe artist?" Charlie cried out. "Fen-ton Hardy is on his way to Crowhead, but he'll never get there. My pilot will make him a prisoner, too."

Morgan looked down at Pete contemptuously.

"Well, have you made up your mind?"

"Sh.o.r.e," Pete replied. "I'm goin' back to Crow-head. Yo' promised not to shoot me."

"Yeah, I did, you sneaking coyote," Morgan spat. "But try to get back to Crowhead. My dogs will take care of that."

"Yore dogs!" Pete exclaimed.

189 "Yeah. I keep 'em chained, but when they get loose, they go wild!"

Charlie jerked his reins, sending the bit deep into the sorrel's tongue. The animal reared up and wheeled, then galloped off into the woods.

When the hoof beats of Morgan's horse faded away, Joe and Pye rushed up to Pete.

The cowboy's jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Pye!" he cried out. "How'd you git here?"

"We'll tell you later," Joe put in, leading Pete to where their horses were hidden. "Quick!

Jump up in back of me."

The cowboy did as he was told. Then Pye and Joe galloped off in the direction of Crowhead. As the three neared one boundary line of the ranch, there came a sudden howling.

"What's that?" Joe cried out.

Pete supplied the answer, terror in his eyes. "Charlie's dogs!"

"Wild dog now!" Pye shouted. "Bad! Kill us!"

"They're gaining!" Joe cried.

The howls of the dogs grew louder. Turning in his saddle, Joe could see the leader of the pack, his fangs bared, bounding toward them.

"We can't outrace those man-killers!" Pete moaned.

CHAPTER XXIII.

A Grim Story.

the Indian's face suddenly lighted up.

"Pye fool 'em," he said.

Just how to fool a savage pack of wild dogs already snapping at the heels of the ponies was more than Joe could figure. The fearful howls were deafening.

Like lightning Pye pulled a knife from his belt. He grasped the dead lamb and severed one hind leg. Joe now realized the strategy of the wily Indian.

Pye flung the leg to the snapping dogs. The pack skidded to an abrupt halt, taking time to tear the meat to pieces. Then they renewed their savage pursuit.

Again and again Pye cut pieces from the carca.s.s to delay the dogs. Their yelping grew farther away as the horses gained. When Pye had but one piece left, he shouted to Joe: "Wait for Pye at fence."

Swerving Cherry, the Indian galloped off at a 190.

191 tangent, heading for higher ground. The dogs tore after him.

From the distance, Joe and Pete watched spellbound. Pye guided his pony up a steep b.u.t.te, as the dogs gained ground. The way was stony and Cherry slipped once on the rocky slope, but Pye urged the animal on.

With her neck straining under the terrific ordeal, Cherry finally reached the top of the bluff. Pye galloped to the far side of it, then tossed the last piece of lamb to the very edge of the cliff.

Meanwhile, the dogs had scrambled to the top of the b.u.t.te. Their jaws flecked with froth, the charging beasts bounded pell-mell toward the meat.

Too late to check their momentum, half of them tumbled into the abyss below. Their broken bodies crashed onto jagged rocks, ending their bloodthirsty pursuit. The other half seized the piece of lamb. A brutal scrimmage followed, with the largest dog finally shaking the fragment of meat from the rest of the pack and loping off. But his victory was short-lived.

The infuriated pack set upon him, then upon one another.

"What a fight!" Joe exclaimed.

"Only three left now," Pete said. "Guess that ends it."

The survivors limped down the slope and stole off into the forest, licking their wounds.

192 Pye rode into sight a few minutes later.

"You saved our lives!" Joe cried.

The Indian grinned. "Save Pye life too," he said. "Now rest. No ride 'til sun come up."

He, Joe, and Pete sprawled on the gra.s.s.

"Tell us what happened to you, Pete," Joe asked the errant cowboy a little later.

Pete lighted a cigarette, inhaled a few deep draughts, and began. One day, when he was riding the range, the cowboy said, a big man had approached him on a white-faced sorrel. The rider beckoned Pete into the woods.

"You're a fool to work at Crowhead," the man, who was Anow Charlie, had said. "Hank pushes all you guys too hard. How'd you like to work for me? I'll pay you twice as much as you're getting, and it's easy work."

Pete had been surprised, because he had been talking to one of the other men about Hank's sternness. The conclusion had been that Hank was a tough foreman. But for that matter, most foremen were tough, exacting a stiff day's work from their cowpunchers.

Yet Pete had been interested in the stranger's proposition. The extra money surely would come in handy, because he wanted to get married. Charlie seemed to know this.

"What kind o' work is it?" Pete had asked.

193 "Never you mind," Morgan had said with an expansive smile. "It won't be hard. That I can promise, and in a little while you can leave with your pockets bulging and go marry Kate."

"Yo' know Kate?"

"Sure. Finest girl you could have picked."

That argument alone would have settled the question of Pete's transferring to a new boss, but Charlie had still another argument to clinch the matter.

"Other boys from Crowhead are working for me," Morgan had said. "You don't think they'd stay if they didn't like it, do you?"

The other cowboys from Crowhead had not returned. And because cowboys are free agents, Pete had figured they must like the work.

"Okay," Pete had said. "When do I start?"

"Tomorrow. Bring all your stuff."

Pete had ridden to the outskirts of Crowhead with his gear, which he hid under a flat rock. Then he had unsaddled his pony. With a slap on its rump, Pete had sent the animal back toward the ranch house, and started off on foot to a spot designated by Morgan.

"Where was it?" Joe asked.

"Deep in the pine forest," Pete replied, "at a rock with a crooked arrow on it. Some hombre met me there after I pa.s.sed yo' in the woods."

The rock with the crooked arrow! That was the 194 place Frank had stumbled upon-a rendezvous for Arrow Charlie and the deserting cowboys of Crowhead ranch!

"When we saw you running in the woods," Joe said, "why didn't you tell us where you were going?"

Pete locked sheepish. "I was afraid, I guess," he iaid, ' wanted to work for Morgan, an'

he'd warne me not to tell anyone I was comin', 'cause Hank would make trouble."

"So Hank had nothing to do with the disappearance of his men or with Arrow Charlie?"

"No."

A sense of relief swept over Joe. He asked, "What happened when you reached the crooked arrow rock?"

Pete said that the hombre had two ponies and took him to the Indian village. Then a tall Indian had taken him farther into the woods.

"Finally we came to a big cave. My friends were inside, but they didn't look very happy."

"Why?"

"They were makin' phony cigarettes."

"Arrow cigarettes?" Joe asked excitedly.

"Yo5 know about 'em?" Pete asked in surprise.

Joe nodded, then asked the cowboy how much he knew about the cigarettes and their distribution.

"Most everythin', I guess. An' I'm sh.o.r.e glad to be rid o' that mess."

195 Pete went on to say that the plastic tubes were brought to the "factory" and filled there with sleep-producing gas. The cigarette paper was brought also, but the tobacco, a cheap, wild variety, was grown near the factory. Part of the cowboys' work was growing and curing it.

"Every mornin' Morgan or his skinny friend Silver," Pete continued the story, "went to the hissing crack an' got some o' the stuff."

"Hissing crack? What stuff?"

"Yo' know," Pete said. "The gas they fill the tubes with."

Suddenly Pye gasped.

"What's the matter?" Joe asked.

"Bad gas," said the Indian fearfully. "Kill much Indian long time years. No go near. White man never see."

"Morgan an' Silver sh.o.r.e know 'bout it," Pete said. "What is it, anyhow?"

At first Pye was reluctant to tell what he knew only as a legend with the Indians. The hissing crack was located on the side of a sheer rock. From it came a hissing gas that brought instant slumber and eventual death to anybody who ventured near it.

"Morgan must wear a mask," Joe ventured. "And he must have heard the story from some Indian."

196 "Many moons ago," Pye said, "Indian chief punish bad hombre. Throw him on gas rock."

"Morgan's racket was bad enough," said Pete, "but when I found out he sometimes threw men down there, I decided to run away an' squeal on him."

"You take big chance," Pye grunted. "Now sleep." No one slept, however, and at dawn Pye said, "Go now."

At sunup the group heard a plane. Pete explained that one visited Morgan's place daily, dragging a pickup rope. It scooped up the packages of Arrow cigarettes to take to distant places, and also dropped supplies to the gang.