Part 8 (1/2)
”Where is he?” Joe asked.
”Over in the lunchroom at the end of that runway,” the man pointed. ”He's short and dark, and has a mustache.”
The boys thanked the flier and hurried to the lunchroom. They had no trouble spotting the pilot, a swarthy little man. He was eating a bowl of soup.
”Are you a private pilot?” Frank asked him.
The man brushed a crumb from his mustache. ”Yeah. Why?” he asked.
”We'd like to fly to New Mexico. There'll be three of us. Could you take us?”
The flier looked the boys up and down. ”Sure, I can take you,” he said.
”Swell,” Joe burst out. ”When can we start?”
”Right now if you want to.”
”Hold on a minute, Joe,” cautioned his older brother. Then, turning to the man, Frank asked, ”How much for the trip?”
The pilot avoided Frank's candid gaze, looking instead at his bowl of soup.
”Two thousand dollars,” he said.
”Spin my prop!” Joe shouted. ”Two thousand dollars?”
79 ”That's right,” the swarthy man replied. ”Take it or leave it.”
”We'll leave it, thank you,” Frank said. ”Come on, Joe. Let's look for another plane.”
”You bet!” Joe exclaimed. ”We don't want to buy this man's plane!”
Unfortunately, there were no other private pilots at the field. Frank and Joe got into their car and started home. After a mile on the highway, Frank said suddenly: ”Joe! I have an idea that pilot-”
”Yes?”
”I think he may be in cahoots with the crooked arrow gang.”
”Why?” Joe asked, perplexed.
”No pilot would ask that much to fly us,” Frank explained. ”I'll bet he's deliberately trying to keep us from going to New Mexico as the archer did Dad.”
”Let's go back and find out who he is,” Joe suggested.
Frank made a U turn on the broad highway and headed back toward the airport. Whey they entered the lunchroom the pilot was gone. The man behind the counter said he had left in a hurry.
The Hardys dashed outside. The fellow was not in sight. They asked the flier who was still tinker80 ing with the two-engine plane if he had seen the dark-skinned pilot.
”Yep,” he replied. ”There he is.” He pointed to a speck in the sky. ”Took off a few minutes ago.”
”Who is he?” Frank asked.
”Dunno,” was the answer.
The boys inquired at the office. Obligingly the clerk looked him up.
”He's Jack Howe, from New York City.”
”Which proves exactly nothing,” Frank declared.
Disappointed at their failure, either to advance a step in solving the mystery or getting reservations, the boys got back in their car. As Frank breezed along, Joe said: ”Let's drop by at Chet's and tell him to get ready. You know how poky he is.”
”Right.”
When they slowed down on the road fronting the Morton farm, a strange sight greeted their eyes. In a cow pasture among a herd of cows rode a cowboy on a chestnut mare.
”Yippee!” laughed Joe. ”It's Chet!”
The boys stopped and got out.
”Hi, Chet! Where'd you get that rig?”
”Bought it, of course,” puffed Chet.
He leaned over in the saddle and looked down at the Hardys. ”I've been practicing for out West. Watch me rope a cow.”
81 Chet swung a rope over his head, then flung it at a Holstein grazing complacently near by. The rope snaked through the air and landed smack over an old tree stump.
”Bull's-eye!” Joe shouted.
”Looks like you're stumped!” Frank wisecracked.
”That was only the first try,” Chet retorted. ”Watch this one.”
He looped the rope again. It glided through the air, landing neatly over the cow's head.
”Told you!” he cried.
Chet should have been satisfied with this feat. But wis.h.i.+ng to impress his audience, he yanked the rope, as he had seen cowboys do in the movies. With a toss of her head, the animal gave a loud, frightened bellow, and started to run.
Chet had been gazing at Frank and Joe, hoping to elicit a word of praise, and wasn't watching the cow. Suddenly, with a jerk, she pulled him from the horse.
With a thud, somewhat cus.h.i.+oned by his avoir dupois, the boy landed in a clump of gra.s.s. The Hardys doubled over with laughter.
”Do it again,” Joe egged him on. ”I didn't see it.”
He leaned over to help his friend off the ground. As he did so, the cow, tired of the whole silly business, b.u.t.ted Joe squarely!