Part 13 (1/2)
”Sam Radley and government agents,” Mr. Hardy said, ”have arrested several peddlers of Arrow cigarettes in the Bayport area and in other widely scattered sections of the country.
But they haven't nabbed the ringleader, whoever he is.
”Maybe he's Arrow Charlie,” Frank suggested.
”We have a trap set for him if he shows up here,” the detective said. ”But he may show up nearer you. Watch your step!”
The boys promised they would, and the conversation ended. Frank and Joe spent the evening near the corral and the bunkhouse but learned nothing. No riders came in or went out up to twelve o'clock, and Pete did not return. Finally the brothers went to bed.
Chet Morton was up early with the Hardys the 128 next morning. Having felt ill all the day before from overeating, he attacked his breakfast with some restraint.
”What's the matter, Chet?” Joe needled him, as the boys rose from the table. ”Lost your Eastern appet.i.te?”
”I'm taking it easy from now on,” the boy declared. ”I positively will not eat a third helping any more.”
”Two's enough, eh, Chet?” Frank grinned. ”Aren't you afraid of starving to death?”
Chet finished his second stack of flapjacks and joined his friends in a stroll around the ranch buildings. As they neared the bunkhouse, a cheerful voice called out the doorway.
”Mornin'. Come in. I got somethin' to show yo'.”
It was Terry, the singing cowboy. He held the door open for them to enter.
”Thar 'tis,” he said, pointing.
A long pine table stood in the middle of the cowboys' quarters. On it lay three piles of range riding clothes.
”Some o' the men kinda got an apology to make,” he said. ”Leastways to Frank an'
Joe. We found out from Pye yo' sh.o.r.e c'n ride. So a few o' us got together some o' our gear for yo'.”
”That was mighty nice,” Frank said. ”Thanks.”
129 ”Pretty swell of you,” Joe exclaimed, examining the bright s.h.i.+rts and bandannas.
”We had a little trouble gettin' jeans big enough for yore friend here,” Terry said, thumbing toward Chet.
The boys climbed into their new outfits enthusiastically. Chet pulled a wide-brimmed hat c akishly to the side of his head. akishly to the side of his head.
”Gimme my six-shooters!” he cried, spreading his feet wide apart and slapping his hips. ”Oh,, boy, am I sharp!”
The cowboys laughed, and Frank thanked them for their generosity, adding that the Hardys had not expected such treatment from Hank.
”Hank don't know about this,” Terry replied, ”or his pals m.u.f.f an' Red. Just keep it under yore hat, will yo'? Better go. Here comes Hank now.”
Chet and the Hardys hastily thanked Terry again and departed from the bunkhouse.
Nearing the corral, Chet suddenly wheeled about.
”Gosh, I forgot my bandanna,” he exclaimed.
He hotfooted back to the bunkhouse. Terry had gone. The bandanna lay on the floor beside the table.
As Chet leaned down to pick it up, he heard Hank's voice. The foreman was talking on s. telephone on the far wall of the bunkhouse. Chet could not help but hear what he was saying, 130 ”Not 'til those wise guys from Bayport leave,” the dour cowboy said.
He hung up and turned to go out. Seeing Chet standing by the table. Hank became furious.
”Yo5 sneakin' coyote!” he roared. ”What yo* doin' in here?”
”I c-came for my bandanna,” Chet stammered.
”That's a lie,” Hank snarled. ”Yo're eavesdrop-pin' on me!”
This was too much for Chet. ”What were you saying about us boys?” he demanded.
”None o' yore business!” Hank burst out.
He strode toward Chet and grabbed him by the s.h.i.+rt front. Twisting his fist, he lifted the boy nearly off the floor.
Suddenly Chet remembered! ”Don't let anybody push you around,” his judo teacher had told him. ”Brute strength isn't everything.”
The words rang in the boy's ears. Quickly he recalled the armlock grip that Russ Griggs, the ex-Marine, had taught him. With a sudden movement, Chet grasped Hank's left wrist with his right hand. The foreman, caught off balance, relaxed his hold on Chet's s.h.i.+rt.
With) another lightninglike move, Chet thrust his left hand under Hank's shoulder, using it as a fulcrum. An agonizing look of pain came over Hank's (ace as Chet bent the man's arm back. Then, with 131 a flip, Chet hurled the man across the room. Hank teetered backward on his heels, then crashed onto a cot in the corner of the bunkhouse.
Chet could hardly believe his eyes. He had thrown the powerful foreman! Hank regained his feet, roaring for help.
”I'll throw yo' blasted nuisances off this place!” he shouted. ”m.u.f.f! Red!”
Two cowboys, hearing their boss yell, rushed into the building.
”Grab that guy!” Hank ordered, pointing to Chet. ”He tried to murder me!”
Hank's friends advanced on Chet, pinning his arms to his sides.
”What'll we do with him?” one of them asked.
”Tie him to a steer's tail!” Hank thundered.
CHAPTER XV.
More Trouble.
chet, frightened stiff, lurched wildly. He managed to throw one of the cowboys off his feet, but the wiry ranchman sprang up, securing a tighter grip on the struggling boy.
”Lemme go!” Chet cried. ”Help! Frank! Joe!”