Part 11 (2/2)
At that moment the ranch house bell rang. Ruth Hardy and the ”city soft guys,” their faces red, went off to breakfast. When they finished, Frank took his cousin aside in one corner of the room, and said: ”I don't mind being razzed because I'm from 112 the city, but it seemed to me that your foreman Hank was not kidding us. Is he always like that?”
”Oh, Hank's all right,” their cousin a.s.sured the boy. ”He's a little dictatorial, but I think Hank means well enough.”
”Seems mighty queer to me,” Frank said with a worried frown. ”Maybe your men are leaving on account of him.”
”I hardly think so. Hank just doesn't like what he calls 'city dudes.' I'm sure you can grow to be friends, though.”
”I hope so,” Frank said. But the boy was afraid that his cousin's foreman might be mixed up in some way with the strange disappearance of the Crowhcad cowboys.
Frank strolled onto the porch and told Joe of their cousin's confidence in Hank. Joe shrugged.
”Just the same,” he suggested, ”I think we'd better start looking for clues right now, and we'll not leave Hank out.”
”Say, where did Chet vanisL?” Frank asked aloud.
Ruth Hardy, coming outside, laughingly called from the doorway, ”He ate a littie too much breakfast to go riding just now, he said.”
”We'll leave him here,” Joe decided, ”while Frank and I take a look around Crowhead.”
”Hank will give you horses,” Mrs. Hardy said.
113 The brothers walked to the corral, eager to ride over the meandering acres of Crowhead in search of clues to their cousin's mystery. When they asked for horses, Hank lifted the corral bar and went inside. He returned with two lively mounts.
”Saddle 'em yoreselves,” he said gruffly.
The horses pranced and pawed, but finally the boys got the saddles strapped in place.
Hank looked amazed, and as the brothers swung into their seats he watched intently.
Suddenly a figure raced toward them-it was Pye, the Indian.
”No ride!” he shouted excitedly. ”Bad horse.”
Hank glared at the Indian.
”Yo' stay out o' this!” he ordered.
As he spoke, Joe's horse reared. The next instant the animal did a sunfish, tossing Joe off his back into the dust!
CHAPTER XIII.
The Whizzing Arrow.
hank guffawed at Joe's bad spill but made no attempt to subdue the rearing horse.
It was Pye who rushed in and grabbed the animal's bridle, yanking him and his cras.h.i.+ng hoofs away from the boy.
With a cry Frank had dismounted and rushed to his brother. But Joe picked himself up and brushed the dirt from his jeans.
Hank's laughter suddenly turned into an angry frown as he saw Terry, the singing cowboy, approaching with two other horses.
”Who told yo' to bring 'em?” he shouted.
The little cowboy grinned, at the same time letting forth in a high tenor voice: Yo' can't ride a bronc The very first day Yippity-yay. Yippitay-yay!
114.
115 ”Shut up!” Hank bellowed. ”Yo're not gettin8 paid for singin'.”
”I'm only tryin' to make the boys feel at home,'” Terry said.
”Leave that to me,” the foreman snarled.
He turned to Pye, who had led the mean horses back into the corral.
”Look here, Indian,” he snapped. ”Get these tenderfeet to work ridin' fence.”
”Me savvy,” Pye replied. ”Take other men along, too?”
”I can't spare any good men,” Hank sneered at the Indian. ”Now get goin'!”
The foreman strode off, leaving the boys with Pye. He offered to saddle the new mounts, but Frank and Joe cinched their own.
Pye mounted a little pinto and the three started for the fences.
”Boys good riders.” Pye grinned in surprise, seeing the ease with which the Hardys handled their mounts.
”We've done some riding back East,” Frank replied.
”Nice paint you got there, Pye,” Joe said admiringly.
Pye and his horse moved in perfect rhythm. It looked as if he and the little animal had been born riding together.
116 ”Him fine horse,” the Indian said proudly. ”Him know two language-white man and Nav-aho.”
With that he spoke an Indian word. The pinto stopped and dropped to his forelegs. Then Pye spoke in English. The pony arose and started off again.
Pye looked at the boys gleefully. ”See?” he said. ”Pony ver-y smart. Never go to school, either.”
The boys laughed. ”What's his name?” Frank asked as they cantered along.
”Cherry,” the Indian replied. ”Cowboy make fun with Pymatuno. Call Pye and horse Cherry Pye.” The friendly Navaho grinned until his eyes almost disappeared.
The country over which the three rode was rough and scrubby. Here and there a few cattle grazed on the green patches which dotted the terrain.
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