Part 14 (1/2)
137 ”There they go,” he said to a cowboy standing near by. ”I hope they're gone for good!”
When they landed in Santa Fe, Frank, Joe, and Chet went straight to a well-known chemist whose name Ruth Hardy had given them. Frank asked him to a.n.a.lyze the arrow.
”I'll have the report ready in twenty minutes,” the chemist said, ”if you care to come back.”
”Sure will.”
The boys left the arrowhead and strolled down the street.
”Let's have a soda,” Joe suggested.
”Okay,” Frank agreed. ”I'm thirsty myself.”
They saw a drugstore near by and went in. On a chance, Frank went over to the druggist and asked in a whisper: ”Have you any Arrow cigarettes?”
The druggist, an open-faced and friendly man with a shock of black hair, looked quizzically at the boy.
”Arrow cigarettes?” he said. ”Never heard of them.”
Frank, feeling sure the man was telling the truth^ rejoined Joe and Chet. The three sat on stools at the ice cream and lunch counter. Chet leaned over near the clerk.
”What's that chile con carne on the menu?”
138 The white-coated youth behind the counter explained that it was red-hot stuff, diet, thinking the clerk was recommending the peppery food said: ”Gimme some.”
The boy took a mouthful, made a wry face, then finished the bowl of chile, after which he put away a double-scoop ice-cream soda. Frank and Joe looked at their friend ruefully.
”You'll be sorry,” Joe sang out, when Chet asked for another gla.s.s of water.
”Gosh, that chile was hot!” Chet remarked, as the boys rose to return to the laboratory.
When the chemist appeared, Frank hurried over to him.
”What did you find?” he asked excitedly.
”This arrowhead is poisoned,” the man replied. ”Even a scratch might prove fatal!”
Frank paid the man for his a.n.a.lysis and the three left the place.
”Let's make some more inquiries about Arrow cigarettes,” Joe suggested.
They went to one place after another, but none of the proprietors ever had heard of the cigarettes.
”What I want to find out now,” Frank said, ”is something more about real arrows; Indian arrows.”
He spoke to a policeman, who directed the boys to a museum.
”They've got a good collection there,” he said.
139 The trio spent nearly an hour looking over the vast collection. Finally Joe remarked: ”Funny thing. Every one of these arrows is longer than the white-feathered arrows.”
”And they're not so thick,” Frank added. ”Whoever shot at Dad and me makes his own brand of arrows.”
”That ought to make it easier to find him,” Joe surmised.
After leaving the museum, the boys went back to the Santa Fe airport, where they met Winger.
”All set?” He smiled. After they got in the air, he asked, ”Find any more crooked arrows?”
”Not one,” Chet replied. ”But I had some hot chile. Got any water on this plane? My stomach's on fire.” He stuck out his tongue in a panting gesture.
”Sorry. No. Bread would be better, but I haven't any of that, either.”
”You'll have to wait until we get back to Crow-head,” Joe said. ”This will teach you to leave that hot stuff to the Mexicans.”
Chet sweated it out all the way back to the ranch. When they arrived, he made a dash to the kitchen.
”Whew!” he said, wiping his brow after three slices of bread. ”I think the fire's out now.”
After the boys had had supper, Ruth Hardy told them there had been more trouble at the ranch.
140 ”Another cowboy disappeared while you were in Sante Fe,” she said. ”He took his saddle and all his clothes, just like the other men did.”
With their cousin's permission the boys went to the bunkhouse and conducted an exhaustive quiz. The missing cowboy's friends, as well as the rest, could give no explanation for his disappearance. Hank watched the proceedings with slitted eyes, and gave short, negative answers to all questions.
”Do you suppose Hank told them not to say anything?” Joe whispered, as his brother finished the interrogation.
”No,” Frank replied. ”Cowboys don't talk much, anyway. But I really think they don't know what happened to the guy.”
Joe stepped into the middle of the room and addressed the men.
”You fellows ought to know that the disappearance of your buddies is no laughing matter,” he said. ”The men may be in trouble-serious trouble.”
At this remark the lounging ranchers sat up in amazement. A buzz of conversation revealed they had thought the cowboys went off of their own volition to some other ranch, and had said nothing to Mrs. Hardy since they did not want to hurt the widow's feelings.
”I'd advise you to stick to Crowhead,” Joe went 141 on. ”And if you value your lives, stay away from the north woods!”
At this admonition, Hank arose from his cot and glared at the Hardys.
”Shut up!” he roared. ”I'll not let a couple o' coyotes come in here an' give advice to my men. I'm runnin' the affairs of Crowhead an' I don't need any tenderfeet's help. Now get out!”
To avoid another fracas, the visitors left. Chet thumped Joe on the back.
”Good sermon, Parson Hardy,” he said. ”Only old die-hard in there didn't like it. Say,” he added seriously, ”do you think Hank's mixed up in this?”
”He's either guilty as they come,” Frank answered, ”or else he's the meanest straight guy I've ever met.”