Part 10 (1/2)
”What is it?” Winger queried, while Joe jumped Up and looked out Frank's window.
”There among the trees,” Frank pointed.
Joe and the pilot scanned the woods. Chet was too busy thinking about his pancakes to pay much attention.
”I see it!” Joe exclaimed. ”It's a giant arrow cut out of the woods,” he cried excitedly.
”And it's crooked!” Frank observed.
Winger was puzzled. ”How the deuce could that happen?” he asked.
He banked to go back and look at the strange 97 sight again. By this time Chet's curiosity was aroused, and he, too, looked and exclaimed in amazement.
”It looks,” said Frank, ”as if the timber had been cut purposely in the form of an S-shaped arrow.”
”So it does,” the pilot commented. ”Never saw it before, but then I seldom fly over this country.”
”Let's circle around to see if we can spot any more arrows,” Joe suggested.
”Okay with me,” the pilot agreed, ”if you've got the time. I have plenty.”
Winger flew in ever-widening circles. The dense woodland was unbroken by any other arrows etched in the deep greenery.
Finally, the pilot came back again to the crooked arrow. Frank nudged Joe, who bent his head closer to his brother.
”Do you see where the arrow points?” he whis-peied excitedly.
”Right toward Crowhead Ranch!” Joe answered.
”I'm afraid,” Frank said, ”that Crowhead is a marked ranch!”
”But why?” Joe puzzled. ”What possible connection could there be between a knockout cigarette and a cattle ranch?”
”When we know that, Joe, I'll feel a lot easier about the safety of the Hardy family,” his brother replied.
98 ”I wish we could go down and see if anybody lives here,” Joe said. ”It might be a hide-out for the crooked arrow gang!”
”No chance of landing among these trees,” Frank declared.
As the pilot headed away from the woodland arrow, Joe noticed a cleared spot beyond the arrow's head. It was barely large enough for a plane to land, and a take-off would be almost impossible.
Nevertheless Joe was about to point out the spot to Winger with the idea of a possible landing, when suddenly the airplane's motor began to sputter. The flier looked back at the boys, his forehead wrinkled with anxiety.
”I may have to take her down!” he called grimly.
Winger worked frantically, but the engine failed to respond. With a sickly wheeze, it conked out.
The sudden silence brought Chet out of his squeamish disinterest in the trip.
”Gee!-Oh, gos.h.!.+”
The wind whined against the plane's surfaces as the craft, under Winger's steady hand, made for the clearing that Frank had seen. Chet closed his eyes, but the Hardys, fascinated by the flier's skill, watched every move.
The plane banked, nearly cras.h.i.+ng into the tree-tops. At last it settled down in the clearing without overturning.
99 ”Whew!” Chet cried out. ”That was too close for comfort!”
”Sure was,” said Winger. ”And I hope we can get out of here.”
They all jumped from the plane. Frank offered to help examine the engine for the trouble spot. He was an expert mechanic as a result of having taken so many jalopies apart and put them together again.
”Joe, how about you and Chet taking a look around to see if anyone lives in these woods?” he suggested.
”Okay,” his brother agreed.
Chet stared at the unknown and, he figured, perhaps hostile surroundings. He was not of a mind to move one foot.
”A walk will do you good,” Joe urged.
Chet remained where he was. ”I knew it,” he said. ”I come out West for a good time, and the first thing I know I'm in a gangsters' hide-out.”
”That shouldn't bother you. How about that judo you learned?” Joe needled him. ”You could throw a couple of gunmen right over your shoulder.”
”G-gunmen?” Chet stuttered. ”That settles it. I'll help on the motor. You and Frank go.”
The boy could not be persuaded to leave, so the Hardys went off together. They advanced among the trees cautiously, but there were no signs of human habitation.
100 Someone had been at the spot within a few weeks, however, because the land in the crooked arrow area had been stripped of all new growth, evidently to keep the arrow sign in plain sight from the air.
”This spot is just a marker for members of the crooked arrow gang flying over it,” Frank concluded.
The boys hunted for any clues to the crooks' ident.i.ty but found nothing. Finally they returned to the plane. Winger had located the trouble. It was in the fuel line.
”n.o.body around,” Joe reported, ”but from the cuts on the stumps, it's a sure bet those trees were felled on purpose. It was no natural phenomenon.”
”Whoever did it surely went to a lot of trouble,” commented Winger, as he tightened a coupling in the fuel pipe. A few minutes later he said, ”Well, we're ready to take off. The really tough job's ahead; to get out of here.” He eyed the length of the clearing. ”If we're lucky, we can make it,” he said. ”But I wish we could throw off some excess weight.”
Joe eyed Chet slyly.
”No, not me!” the boy protested, then grinned foolishly for having fallen for Joe's quip.
They climbed into the plane, and Winger took his place at the controls. The pilot taxied to the end of the clearing and turned, taking advantage of 101 every inch of ground. He applied the brakes until the motor roared, then zipped down the natural runway.
The boys held their breaths as the plane sped toward the trees at the far end of the open s.p.a.ce. Suddenly, with a bound like a high jumper, the craft nosed up sharply. Boughs clutched at the underside of the fuselage, but the s.h.i.+p soared into the sky unscathed. Winger was perspiring as he leveled off.
”That sure was swell,” Frank praised him, and the others added words of commendation. It was late afternoon when the plane landed at Crowhead, without further adventure. Frank had identified the ranch from the layout of the buildings, and Winger had set the wheels down on a big field alongside the house.