The Sign Of The Crooked Arrow Part 21

Upon learning this, Mr. Hardy, the sheriff, Joe, and Pete went into a huddle to plan the attack.

"I must rescue Frank and Chet first," Mr. Hardy insisted. "I'll go in alone, with the rest of you covering my advance."

"Not without me!" Joe declared.

Mr. Hardy tried to talk his son out of it, but Joe was adamant.

"Frank's in trouble," Joe insisted, "and we stick together."

The detective agreed that he and Joe should enter the caves first. They would use the tear gas to ferret out the gang when they thought it advisable.

The Hardys advanced cautiously. When they reached the big rock, they flattened themselves out against it. Hearing nothing, they entered the first 208 cave. It was damp and cold. A large rock stood upright in the middle.

Suddenly the sound of m.u.f.fled voices came from behind it. Joe and Mr. Hardy listened, then advanced noiselessly. Joe flattened himself on the ground to avoid a direct attack, and peered around the big rock.

"Frank!" he exclaimed hoa.r.s.ely. "Chet!"

Mr. Hardy rushed to Joe's side. On the ground in front of them, trussed with strong ropes, were the two kidnaped boys. Their legs were doubled up and their hands tied behind their backs. Handkerchiefs were fastened across their mouths, making it difficult for them to speak.

Quickly freed, Frank and Chet rose from their cramped positions and stretched. They told how they had been hustled from the stockade the evening before and half dragged to the caves, because there were not enough horses to accommodate everybody at the Indian camp.

Despite their low tones, the group was discovered by a cowboy deeper in the cave. He ran out, a bow in hand. Over his shoulder was slung a quiver. Protruding from it were half a dozen white feather-tipped arrows.

He stood transfixed for a moment. Then he shouted: 209 "Fenton Hardy!"

"You're the one who shot my father!" Joe cried out.

"Yo' can't prove it!"

"We sure can," said Frank. "And you're the archer who took the prize at the rodeo."

"Yo' bet I am!" the fellow bragged. Then he realized he had identified himself. Furious, he yelled, "I'll fix yo' for good, you meddlin' d.i.c.k!"

The archer reached back for an arrow, but before he could draw one out, Mr. Hardy grasped the man's wrist, twisting it with such force that the fellow fell flat on his back.

As he did so, the cowboy lashed out with his feet. In a flash the detective gripped one of his boots and applied the toehold until the man yelled in pain. Using the rope that had tied his brother, Joe bound the man's hands.

By this time, Morgan's men had come running from every direction. Mr. Hardy hurried to the entrance of the cave and gave the signal to the posse. They rushed forward, grappling with the cowboys and Indians who swarmed from the caves like ants. The cowboys, who had run away from Crowhead to join Morgan, gave up without a struggle. But the Indians put up a stiff battle. When the dust had cleared, Morgan was nowhere in sight.

210 "I know where he is," Pete volunteered, and led the Hardys and the sheriff to a cave far back from the others. It was the one with the pa.s.sageway to the top of the rock.

"Come out, Morgan!" the sheriff roared into the cave.

"Come and get me!" a voice replied, echoing hollowly in the gloomy vault.

Mr. Hardy slipped inside. As he did, a rifle cracked, and a bullet ricocheted off the rocky wall. The detective ducked, at the same time throwing a tear gas bomb into the interior.

Morgan coughed. Then the cave echoed to his fleeing footsteps as he dashed through the tunnel. Mr. Hardy could not follow immediately into the fumes.

Soon Arrow Charlie appeared for an instant high on the roof of the rock. When the men saw the rifle in his hands they fell behind the rocks for cover. He took a couple of pot shots, then from behind a rock sneered*

"Thought you had me, eh? Well, you won't get me. I've radioed my pilot. He'll soon be here to pick me up. Then look out, Fen ton Hardy and sons!"

As he spoke, there came the sound of a plane. Frank and Joe listened intently. Was it Morgan's private plane, coming to s.n.a.t.c.h the criminal from 211 their grip the moment they had him nearly cornered?

"A flying banana!" Joe cried.

"A government helicopter!" Frank exclaimed.

The craft flew close, and descended. Morgan raised his rifle, but before he could fire a shot, a machine gun from the helicopter sent a burst that nicked the rock a few feet from him.

Charlie Morgan knew he was licked. He dropped his rifle and held his hands high as the helicopter landed near him and Federal men hopped out. Mr. Hardy and Sam Radley raced through the tunnel to greet them.

"Swell job, Hardy," said one of the agents. "We've been looking for this guy a long time."

"The credit should go to my sons." The famous detective smiled. "Come and meet them."

Just then another motor sounded high over the big rock. It was Morgan's plane. The pilot swooped low enough to see what had happened, and sped off. But his escape was short-lived. He was captured a few miles away when he was forced to make a landing. Joe and Frank identified him as the pilot who had wanted to charge them the exorbitant sum of two thousand dollars to fly them from Bayport.

When all the prisoners were rounded up, the Federal agents and Mr. Hardy interrogated Arrow 212 Charlie with a flood of questions. The big man, surly at first, finally realized further silence was useless.

He showed the officers into a secret room deep in one of the caves, where the Arrow cigarettes were made.

"What about the hissing crack?" Frank asked.

Morgan led them to a pit a hundred yards back of the big rock. From one side of it a white plume of smoke hissed out through a split in the rock's surface. Arrow Charlie had learned of the gas from some renegade Indians and had taken a chemist to help him exploit the mysterious fumes.

He had hired the Indians to guard the approaches to his cigarette factory. Then, when he needed more labor, he had lured the cowboys away from Crowhead, the nearest ranch.

The Federal men immediately took over the hissing crack and posted a guard around it.

"How did you hit upon the crooked arrow as a sign of identification among your men?"

Mr. Hardy asked Morgan.

"That really wasn't an arrow," Morgan replied. "It was an ancient, writhing snake with crooked fangs and a forked tail. I found it carved on a rock pointing to the hissing crack.

Must have been put there long ago by Indians as a warning. At first I thought it was a crooked arrow, and decided it 213 would make a swell insignia for my distributors."

On the long ride back to Crowhead, Mr. Hardy, his two sons, and Chet talked over the events leading to the roundup of the Morgan mob. Frank and Chet told how they had been captured.

"That guy who shot you, Dad," Frank said, "was reared by Indians. Morgan sent him to Bayport to shoot you. The same fellow nearly winged me when I discovered the sign of the crooked arrow in the rendezvous rock."

The errant cowboys, reticent at first, began talking on the ride back. When they heard that the ranch had been burned at the direction of Arrow Charlie, they were enraged.

"I think," Pete said, "that we ought to show our hearts are in the right place by helpin' to rebuild Crowhead."

Cheers greeted his suggestion.

"And we won't take a cent," shouted another of the runaways.

For the next two weeks the place resounded to the sound of hammers and saws as the buildings were replaced. Ruth Hardy's appreciation was unbounded.

Then one day, their job done, the Hardys, Chet Morton, and Sam Radley stepped aboard a big air liner to fly home. Frank and Joe felt let down. Life was beginning to seem slow already. But not 214 for long. "The Secret of the Lost Tunnel" was soon to come their way.

When the plane was in the stratosphere and all were settled comfortably, Frank remarked, "1 wonder what Slow Mo will say when we tell him we started solving the mystery of the crooked arrow right in his garage."

Joe grinned broadly. "He'll say, 'I never thought of that!' "