The Sign Of The Crooked Arrow Part 5

"It's for another reason," Frank put in. "He wants us to go to New Mexico. Our cousin Ruth Hardy, who owns the Crowhead Ranch out there, is having a lot of trouble."

"How'd you like to come with us, Chet?" Joe burst out suddenly.

"Yippee!" Chet exclaimed. "Slap my chaps and call me cowboy! I'll get my stuff together right away-blankets and frying pan, and a side of bacon."

"Wait a minute." Frank laughed. Then he 48 winked at Joe. "It'll have to be short rations for you, Chet. Have to slim down for hard riding on the range."

"Frank's right," Joe took up the needling. "A horse would break his back toting you around!"

"Aw, quit your kidding," Chet pleaded.

Just then the voice of lola sounded from the porch. "Refreshments are ready," she called.

Frank and Joe held Chet back for a moment. Then they dashed ahead of him to the porch.

"Oh, h.e.l.lo, Gallic," Frank said, seeing another girl with lola Morton.

Gallic Shaw was lola's best friend and, so far as Frank Hardy was concerned, was as nice a girl as any fellow would like to know.

"Hi, boys!" Gallic responded cheerfully. "Help yourself to lemonade and cakes."

"Take it easy now, Chet," Joe warned. "Remember, you're on a diet!"

"I'll start tomorrow," Chet said.

While they ate, Frank, Joe, and Chet talked and joked with the girls. Then the conversation turned to the mystery the Hardys had run into at Slow Mo's garage.

"I know you can find the answer," Gallic said, looking at Frank. "You always do."

The telephone rang and Mrs. Morton answered it "It's for you, Frank," she said.

49 Frank went inside, spoke a few words, and came back to the porch.

"It was Slow Mo," he told Joe. "He's dug up some new information and wants to see us."

"How'd he know you were here?" Chet asked.

"Aunt Gertrude told him where he'd probably find us," Frank said. "Hate to break up the party, but we ought to go."

The two girls and Chet walked out to the Hardy's car and waved as Frank and Joe went down the driveway and headed for Pleasantville. As they came to a stop in front of the old man's garages Slow Mo ambled out to meet them.

"More funny business goin' on around here," he announced.

"What happened?"

"Some smart aleck tried to take that car last night," he replied. "But I fooled him."

"How?" Joe put in.

Slow Mo scratched his whiskers and grinned. "Well, he got in a window, but when he tried to open the garage doors my burglar alarm went off and scared him away!"

"Good for you!" Frank said. "When did you put the alarm in?"

"Oh, a long time ago," Slow Mo replied. He looked a little sheepish. "I never thought to turn it on 'til last night."

50 The boys went into the garage and looked around. The mystery car had been moved halfway across the floor, as if the intruder had taken it that far before stopping to get out and open the doors.

"Did you find any clues?" Frank queried.

"Nothin'," Slow Mo said, " 'cept the fellow must be a chicken farmer."

"What makes you think so?" Joe asked.

"He left a chicken feather on the seat of the car," he replied. "Here, take a look at it."

The man reached an oily hand into his pocket and drew out a white feather, now somewhat smudged.

"Brother!" Joe exclaimed. "What a clue!"

"A clue?" Slow Mo looked puzzled. "Never thought of that. 'Taint nothin' but a chicken feather to me."

Frank and Joe thanked Slow Mo for the information and headed back to Bayport.

"1 think we have something here," Frank said as the boys hummed along the highway.

"This feather sure looks like the one on the arrow that wounded Dad."

After parking in front of the police station, the boys hurried inside. The chief was not there, but the sergeant in charge obligingly let them examine the arrow again. Frank compared the feathers.

"Look, Joe!" he said excitedly. "They match!"

"Then the guy who dropped this at Slow Mo's 51 may be the one who shot Dad," Joe exclaimed. "We've got to find him."

At the mention of Mr. Hardy, the sergeant p.r.i.c.ked up his ears. "Too bad about him," he declared mournfully. "I know how you must feel."

"Too bad about what?" Frank said quickly.

"Haven't you heard?" the officer asked in surprise. "The arrow that shot your father was poisoned. If he should die-"

Without waiting for another word, the boys raced to their car and drove to the hospital in record time. When they reached their father's room, they found him very ill. Mrs. Hardy sat holding her husband's hand.

"Your father was poisoned by that arrow," she said to her sons, a sob in her voice. "The doctors are doing all they can to counteract the poison."

Mr. Hardy was too weak to speak, but he smiled faintly at the boys.

"You'd better go now," Mrs. Hardy said. "I'll phone the house if I need you."

Worried at this unexpected turn of events, the boys went downstairs. As they were about to step out the front door, the receptionist called to them.

"You're the Hardy boys, aren't you?"

When Frank nodded, she added, "Chief Collig just called. He wants to see you at police headquarters."

52 When the boys arrived there, the officer ushered them into the line-up room. Standing on a dais were three men. A bright light shone into their faces.

"We've had a dragnet out for the man who shot your father," the chief told the brothers.

"My men rounded up these suspects today. I've questioned each one at length, but these fellows all have airtight alibis, and they don't know a thing about archery. I was going to let them go, but I thought maybe you'd like to look at them and ask a few questions."

Frank asked the men if any of them traded at Slow Mo's garage in Pleasantville; also if any of them kept white chickens or turkeys. All said no.

"Sorry," Chief Collig said. "We'll round up some more men."

The brothers drove home. After Mrs. Hardy telephoned from the hospital that their father was somewhat improved, but that she was remaining there, the boys ate dinner and went to bed.

Next morning their mother telephoned that Mr. Hardy was much better, which buoyed the boys' spirits.

"Joe," said Frank, putting his arm around the younger boy's shoulder, "we'll have to take a new tack today to locate our crook. We got exactly nowhere yesterday."

53 "You're right," Joe agreed. "Tell you what. Let's stop every stranger in town and ask what time it is. Perhaps we can spot another wrist watch with a crooked arrow."

Together the brothers drove to the busy downtown area and parked their car. Then they began the tedious task of asking the time of every man they saw who was not familiar to them. As the hours wore on, the answer was a polite "eleven-thirty," "one-fifteen,"

"three-forty-five." Still the boys persisted.

About four o'clock, Frank, across the street from where Joe was working, stopped a husky fellow, who wore a cap pulled low on his forehead. Instead of giving the boy the time, the man clasped his hand over his wrist watch and growled: "Get out of my way!"

CHAPTER VII.

An Amazing Discovery.

frank stepped toward the man who had refused to let him see his wrist watch.

Suddenly the fellow c.o.c.ked his left arm. A heavy fist flashed. Before Frank could move, the blow caught him flush on the point of the chin! Frank staggered backward against a building, stunned by the unexpected blow.

"Stop him!" Joe shouted, as the man dashed down the street.

But the people who had witnessed the scene merely stared, letting the stranger make a clean getaway.

"I'll catch him!" Joe gritted, racing across the street to his brother's side. "Meet you at the car," he told Frank, who by this time had recovered his equilibrium.

The man was a block ahead when Joe spotted him snaking among the pedestrians. But the boy, fired 55 by determination to nab Frank's attacker and perhaps find a new clue to the mystery of the crooked arrow, doggedly sprinted after the man.

Joe gained yard after yard, leaving a trail of gaping onlookers. Presently he found himself in a section of the water front that seemed strangely familiar. The man was running down the street which claimed the dubious distinction of having Al's Tobacco Shop on it!

Hearing Joe's footsteps close behind, the man glanced over his shoulder and put on an extra spurt of speed. A moment later he dashed into the tobacco shop.

When Joe ran through the doorway, his quarry was leaning against the counter, puffing like a locomotive.

"What's the idea of hitting my brother?" the boy asked defiantly.

He clenched his fists in readiness, not wanting to be caught off guard if the stranger should lunge at him.

"Your-your brother's a wise guy," the man wheezed. "Tried to look at my watch when I don't even have one on."

Joe glanced at the man's wrists. There was no watch. But the boy noted a section of slightly un tanned skin on his left arm as if a watch had been worn recently.

56 "You had a watch on," Joe retorted. "What did you do with it?"

Al, who was standing behind the counter, looked at Joe. "That fresh kid again," he said menacingly. "You got an unhealthy interest in watches. Why don't you chase along home and keep out of trouble?"

Joe had all he could do to refrain from taking a punch at both men. But he knew that he would be no match for Al and the stranger.

"Okay," he said, and walked out.

But Joe had no intention of dropping the matter. The fact that the chase had led to the tobacco shop was too good a clue not to follow up.

Joe was eager to get back to his brother and tell him of this new angle. He trotted off to the place where they had parked their car. Frank was waiting.

"Find out anything, Joe?" he asked. "I thought maybe something had happened to you."

His brother quickly related what had taken place.

"We've got to investigate Al's place thoroughly," he said. "I have a feeling he's connected in some way with the Bayport crooks."

"It's a sure bet Al won't give us any information," Frank reasoned.

"How about Sam Radley?" suggested Joe. "Maybe he could case the place for us."

57 "Don't think so," Frank replied. "Sam's too busy trying to find Dad's a.s.sailant. Besides, if Al's mixed up with crooks, he's probably been told Sam is a detective."

"I've got it!" Joe exclaimed, snapping his fingers, "Chet can help us!"

"Good idea," Frank agreed. "Chet might go ir* and ask some questions. Al wouldn't suspect him. He looks too innocent."

In a few minutes the telephone rang at the Morton farm. Chet himself answered it.

"h.e.l.lo, Frank," he said cheerfully. "All ready to start out West?"

"Not yet." Frank laughed. "First we want you to help us on a case."

"Oh, oh!" said Chet. "I knew this was coming!"