Part 15 (1/2)

Frank turned his mount into the woods, heading toward the cries of the calf.

”I'll come right back,” he called.

The boy rode a hundred yards, then halted to listen. The bawling of the dogie had ceased, but as Frank sat listening, he spotted something that made his heart leap. At some distance ahead, mounted on a white-faced sorrel in the shadow of a big tree, sat a cowboy. His big Stetson was pulled low over his face, entirely concealing it in the shade of the wide brim.

Frank quelled his first impulse to ride up to the man. Recalling his father's warning, and sure the cowboy was not from Crowhead, he turned his horse around quietly, hurried back to his friends, and reported what he had seen.

”Suppose you four fellows surround the woods,” Frank said, ”while I question the man. If he has no business on Crowhead property, we'll find out what he's up to.”

With the four at their separate stations, Frank rode into the woods again to the place where he had seen the strange rider. He was gone!

The boy made his way to the big tree. The hoof-prints of the intruder's horse were in clear view-and something else, as well.

Excitedly Frank leaped off his pony and bent to the ground. There lay a package of cigarettes. The package was gaily colored in gold, blue, and yellow. Frank picked it up and read ”Ramiro Cigarrillos, Mexico.”

At the same moment he was startled by the sound [48 of hoofbeats near the far end of the woods. Frank sprang to his horse and went in hot pursuit of the unseen rider.

In a few minutes he reached the edge of the woods. He could hear the horses of two of his friends, who had taken up the chase. Joe and Terry were racing across the range as if they were trying to break a record. But presently they stopped, wheeled about, and came back.

”He got away,” Joe reported, as his horse shook foamy perspiration from its neck.

A distant cloud of dust attested to the fact that the rider, v/hoever he was, had made his escape on a speedy horse. Pursuit would be futile.

Pye came riding up. ”Man go to unhappy ground. Get hurt,” he said simply.

”Must have wanted to get away bad,” Frank remarked. ”I sure wish I'd got a better look at him.”

”Where's Chet?” Joe asked suddenly.

”Over there,” the Indian answered.

He pointed far to the right of the group, where their friend was seated on his pony, holding both hands to his eyes. Presently he trotted over to where the others had stopped. In his right hand he held binoculars.

”I saw him!” Chet exclaimed jubilantly.

”What did he look like?” Joe asked.

Flash Flood 149 ”He was the same guy that came to the farm in Bayport and asked me all those questions!” Chet declared excitedly. ”And he was at the El Paso airport. Remember?” Chet looked admiringly at the binoculars and added, ”Good thing I asked your cousin Ruth if I could borrow these. Thought I might see something interesting!”

”You sure did!” Joe exclaimed.

”It doesn't leave much doubt,” Frank said, ”that the person who's making the trouble at Crowhead and the one who's in league with the Bayport thieves is the same man!”

”But what's the connection?” Joe queried. ”Do the Arrow cigarette peddlers hide out in this region?”

”Maybe they've got a cabin in the woods,” Chet suggested. ”That plane may drop them food.”

”And Ramiro cigarettes,” Frank said. He showed his brother and Chet the pack he had found.

”We're coming back to investigate this place,” Joe determined, ”and soon!”

The boys started back toward Crowhead. Suddenly Frank exclaimed, ”I didn't get that dogie!”

The party headed into the woods again and Frank located the little animal, which had started bawling again. The boy found him mired in a water hole-pulled him out, and let him sprawl across the saddle in front of him.

'150 Terry and Pye started back toward the ranch house, with Joe, Frank, and Chet bringing up the rear. The boys, talking over the actions of the man in the woods, found themselves a long distance behind the others.

Suddenly a black cloud appeared on the horizon as if by magic. The next moment, a torrent of rain was las.h.i.+ng the range.

”We'd better get over this gully onto higher ground,” Frank warned.

He led the way into the twisting gulch, on the other side of which was a high knoll. But just when the three boys reached the bed of the gully, a terrifying sound reached their ears. It was a swirling, swis.h.i.+ng noise, which reached thunderous proportions as it roared down upon the riders.

The boys were caught in a flash flood!

CHAPTER XVII.

The Galloping Archer.

the torrent struck the riders like a gigantic ocean wave.

Frank, choking and spluttering, clung to his mount. The pony struggled with all the rugged strength of a Western animal. Finally, its forelegs beat a tattoo on the bank of the now raging stream, then pulled up to higher ground.

Frank looked around. Farther down the stream Joe was scrambling out of the water, leading a bedraggled pony.

”Where's Chet?” Frank called to him in alarm.

Joe pointed around a bend where he could see an object bobbing like a buoy in the water. Suddenly a hand reached out and grabbed a jutting rock. Then Chet hauled himself slowly to the bank.

The chubby boy looked sorrowful when the others reached him. Pye and Terry had raced back. The 151.

152 storm had ceased as abruptly as it had started, but the water still raged along the arroyo.

”My pony,” Chet said, ”is dead. She hit something and went under.3'

”Too bad,” Terry said sympathetically. ”Lucky none of yo' was hurt.”

”You can ride back with me, Chet,” Joe offered. ”My pony's hefty.”

Chet looked ruefully at the stream, which had begun to subside. Then he let out a sudden exclamation.

”What's the matter?” Joe asked.

”Look!” Chet pointed.

All eyes turned upstream, where a white Stetson was floating down. As it spun in the stream, it looked like a miniature carousel stripped of its horses.