The Sign Of The Crooked Arrow Part 20

As he talked, the droning came closer. A sudden fear made Joe's nerves tingle. Was his father a prisoner in the plane? Had Morgan's pilot somehow intercepted the detective and taken him prisoner?

Joe flung himself upon his pony. He would ride back to see if the plane was going to land. But Pye and Pete dissuaded the eager boy.

"Get sheriff," the Indian insisted. "Posse take care bad men."

A moment's sober thought convinced Joe that Pye was right. Pete hopped on behind the boy, and the three moved over the hot stretch of gra.s.sy land toward Crowhead. The cow ponies, who 197 seemed to sense their part in bringing aid, covered ground rapidly.

Joe's hopes mounted as they drew closer to Crow-head. Perhaps Morgan's schemes had not been carried out. But there was one of their group still unaccounted for. Terry.

Where was he? was he?

"See ranch house soon," Pye said, sensing the boy's anxiety.

They clopped up a long grade toward the summit of a gra.s.sy hill. The ranch was on the other side.

Joe spurred his pony gently. It pulled ahead of Cherry, reaching the brow of the hill first.

Joe gazed at the far-off buildings, then he and Pete cried out in dismay.

"Pye!" Joe shouted.

The Indian raced to the boy's side. Together the three watched as black smoke billowed up in the distance.

The ranch buildings were on fire!

"Probably Morgan's fiendishness!" Joe thought, his jaws set in rage. "Come on, Pye,"

he shouted, "before it's too late!"

CHAPTER XXIV.

The Empty Stockade.

by the time the galloping ponies reached Crow-head, the place was an inferno.

Cowhands were lunning a hose to the ranch house, but the stream suddenly dribbled and stopped as the fire disabled Ihe water pump. Joe rushed up to his cousin Ruth who stood back from the scorching heat of the blaze. Hiding her head in her hands, she sobbed bitterly at this final, crus.h.i.+ng blow.

"Joe!" she cried.

"I'm so sorry. I-"

"It doesn't matter so much as you boys," she interrupted. "You're here! You're safe!" She embraced Joe hysterically. "I thought when yqu didn't come back, something had happened to you!"

The distraught woman did not seem to notice that Frank was not with him. Joe decided not to tell her, but instead to help the men fight the fire.

The loyal cowhands were working frantically. When the pump failed, they had formed a bucket brigade and were pa.s.sing pails of water from a well up to the blaze.

The man standing nearest the fire was Hank. He looked ludicrous with his eyebrows singed off, his face blackened by the smoke, and his s.h.i.+rt ripped. But the foreman worked like a demon.

Joe dashed up to Pye and Pete. The three formed a new bucket line, and worked on a wing of the ranch house, which was still intact.

Finally the fire burned out. Only the small wing had been saved. Their backs and arms aching, and their bodies scorched by the heat, the cowhands flopped to the ground.

Hank came up to Joe, their eyes meeting for a long moment. "Good work," the foreman said, offering his hand.

Joe shook it.

"Hank," he said, "anybody who fights for Cousin Ruth's interest as you just did is a square shooter. I'm sorry I was ever suspicious of your loyalty."

"Forget it."

"Okay. But there's one thing I'd like to know. What about the mysterious telephone call that Chet overheard in the bunkhouse?"

"Oh, that." Hank grinned. "My brother down 200 in Albuquerque wanted me to come inspect some cattle, but I didn't hanker to go 'til you boys left. Kinda figgered you might get into trouble."

"We're in trouble right now," Joe told him.

Much as he disliked to tell Ruth Hardy any further disturbing news, Joe knew that not a moment should be lost in trying to rescue his father, Frank, Chet, and Terry.

"I must phone for help!" Joe said after telling his story to her and Hank.

The telephone was in the undamaged wing of the ranch house, but the line was dead.

Joe soon discovered the reason. The pole on which the wires were strung had burned to the ground.

There was only one thing to do. Joe must ride to the nearest town for the sheriff.

"I'll go with you," Hank offered.

But no sooner were he and Joe in the saddle than a thundering of hoofs sounded in the distance. It came closer. Soon a group of about thirty riders galloped up.

Leading them was Terry, the singing cowboy! Beside him rode the sheriff!

"Terry!" Joe shouted. "We thought you were lost."

"Say, what's agoin' on here?" the cowboy cried, seeing the smoldering ruins. Then he added, 201 "That's what Charlie Morgan must 'a' meant 'bout gettin' rid of everythin' at Crowhead.

Wai, he sh.o.r.e can't get away with this!"

Suddenly he spied Pete, and stared dumfounded. Quickly stories were exchanged.

Terry, while in the woods, had almost run into Arrow Charlie.

"He was talkin' to some skinny guy. They was tryin' to decide what to do with Frank an'

Chet, so I vamoosed, p.r.o.nto, to get help. An' I ain't waitin'. Come on, men!"

"Not without me!" cried Hank. "If them varmints set this here fire an' tried to destroy Crow-head, I'll take the sneakin' coyotes one by one, an'-"

His threat was lost in the noise of men and horses eager to be off on the chase. Joe insisted upon going with the posse, as well as Pye and Pete. When they all had mounted fresh ponies, Hank rode up to Ruth Hardy.

"I know yo're worried about your kin," he said kindly. "But I'm goin' to rescue Frank an'

Chet if I have to do it singlehanded. Never knew finer city dudes!"

As the posse was about to gallop off, an airplane motor sounded in the distance. Joe's eyes focused on the speck in the sky. It was coming from the direction of Morgan's Indian camp.

202 Suddenly a sickening fear seized Joe. Could it be Arrow Charlie's plane? Perhaps it was armed! The posse would be a perfect target for an aerial strafing!

The plane swooped low over the smoking ruins. Then it banked sharply, came in for a landing, and taxied up to the group. As the door of the plane swung open, Fenton Hardy and Sam Radley stepped out.

"Dad!" Joe shouted.

The detective was not one to display his emotions. But the sight of his son gave him a thrill he could not conceal.

"Joe!" he cried as the boy jumped from his horse and raced to his father's side. "I'm glad you're safe. Ruth phoned me you were missing."

Then the sleuth took in the a.s.semblage of riders with a quick glance and his face became grave.

"Where's Frank?"

With Sam Radley listening intently, Joe told why the posse had been organized.

"Sam and I'll go with you," Mr. Hardy said.

As Joe protested, his father told him he had recovered completely from the effects of the poisoned arrow and riding would not bother his leg, which was practically well.

"But first I must send a radio message," he said.

He unfolded a map and Joe pointed out Morgan's 203 hide-out. Mr. Hardy gave the location to the Federal agent.

"Come quickly," he urged. "There's going to be trouble."

Then the party set off. As Mr. Hardy and the others raced across the range, he brought Joe up to date on the mystery. Morgan's pilot had tried to capture him but failed.

Unfortunately, the man was still at large.

The archer who had shot Mr. Hardy was the same man who had tried to steal the car from Slow Mo's, after Frank and Joe had prevented Arrow Charlie from taking it.

"What about the license plates and the defaced engine number?" Joe shouted above the drumbeat of hoofs.

His father said that Bearcat, the man who had sold Frank the Arrow cigarette in Mike's Place, was the culprit. Bearcat had stolen a car. Having learned from Al about the sedan the crooks had left at Slow Mo's garage, he went there, helped himself to the plates to use on the stolen car, and filed off the engine number to forestall its identification.

Many miles had pa.s.sed beneath the flying hoofs as Mr. Hardy told his story. With Pete leading the way, the party headed toward the Indian camp by a short cut now familiar to Pete.

204 After a while the trees thinned out, giving way to the clearing of the Indian village. The riders dashed among the adobe huts and workbenches.

But not a move nor a sound issued from the camp. They searched every hut. Bare! The stockade was empty. The place was totally deserted!

CHAPTER XXV.

The Roundup.

the Indian village showed unmistakable signs of a sudden evacuation. Ashes in the burned out campfire were still warm, and a few implements were strewn about the workbenches.

"Must have been tipped off we were coming," the sheriff said.

"I think I know how," Joe declared. "The fellow in the plane had binoculars and saw Pete."

"He may even have radioed Arrow Charlie," Mr. Hardy said. "The question is, where are Frank and Chet?"

"I believe they've gone to the caves," Pete spoke up.

"Can you lead us there?" the sheriff asked.

"Sh.o.r.e."

The posse headed up the side of the pine mountain after Pete's pony. The way became tortuous as the woods thinned out near the timber line. Joe noticed fresh hoofprints in the stony ground, indicating that ponies had pa.s.sed that way not too long before. Finally Pete stopped the posse.

"The caves are up there," Pete said, pointing to a winding path, which disappeared around a bend in the mountain.

"Then we'll go on foot the rest of the way," the sheriff said.

Once around the bend, the posse glimpsed the formidable redoubts of Arrow Charlie Morgan's band. A sheer rock loomed high into the sky. At its base a series of deep caves opened up like the sunken eye sockets of a skull.

"We'll go in an' shoot 'em out!" the sheriff declared gruffly.

"Would you mind trying another plan first?" put in Mr. Hardy. The detective was not one to use a gun if a ruse would work as well. He had gained his reputation by clever methods, taking his prisoners alive and unhurt, even if not too happy over falling into Fenton Hardy's traps.

"I have some gas here," Mr. Hardy said. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a couple of gas bombs. They looked for all the world like fountain pens.

"They pack a lot of tear gas," he said. "I think it's time Morgan and his gang did a little weeping."

207 "That might work in some o' the caves," Pete put in. "But one of 'em has two openings."

The cowboy told how Morgan's men had spent many days working on an escape route for Morgan, if ever such an occasion as this should arise. They had blasted a tunnel from one of the caves right up to the flat top of the big rock. From the top of the rock, Morgan could command the trail with a rifle until his plane, especially equipped for ground pickup, could s.n.a.t.c.h him up away from any pursuers.