Part 18 (1/2)
”Forget it,” Frank replied. Then, turning to the Indians, he said, ”What are you fellows up to?”
The taller Indian spoke one word.
”Come!”
Walking single file, with one Indian in front and the other bringing up the rear, the boys were led through the forest to the Indian camp. When they appeared in the clearing, the workers excitedly left their benches and crowded around them.
”Plenty strong,” the big Indian said, pointing to Frank. ”Watch careful.”
With the tribe gazing at their captives, Frank asked, ”What reservation is this?”
A stony look was the only reply. He spoke to the other Indians in their native tongue, then turned to the boys.
”Follow!” he commanded.
The Indians led the boys a short distance into the woods on the other side of the camp.
At the spot stood a well-built, sapling stockade. Frank and Chet were pushed through a crude doorway, which was slammed shut after them.
As the Indians went back to the clearing, the boys heard the leader say: ”Big boss come soon. Fix boys good.”
CHAPTER XXI.
Wild Dogs.
frank and Chet looked at each other in dismay. Who was the boss, soon to arrive and pa.s.s judgment on them?
”M-maybe he's an Indian Chief,” Chet said. ”I hope he w-won't burn us at the stake!”
”I doubt that he's an Indian,” Frank replied. ”The word 'boss' is a white man's lingo.”
About an hour later someone approached the door of the stockade and lifted the latch.
A stooped, haglike squaw entered. The elderly Indian woman was carrying two bowls, one filled with water, and the other with maize. She set the bowls on the ground, then untied Chet's bonds. Motioning for Chet to free Frank's hands, she slipped out again and secured the door.
”Gosh, she looks like a spook,” Frank said. ”I'll bet she's over a hundred years old.”
178.
179 With his hands free once more, he joined Chet in a simple meal that tasted much better than they had antic.i.p.ated.
Hardly had the hungry boys finished, when footsteps sounded outside the stockade. It was the tall Indian, who flung open the door and beckoned to the boys.
As Frank and Chet stepped outside the compound, they were immediately surrounded by an escort of six braves, who marched them silently to an adobe hut.
Stooping to enter the low doorway, the boys found themselves in a dim, candle-lighted room. They uttered a gasp of astonishment. Standing be< fore=”” them=”” was=”” a=”” brawny=”” man=”” whom=”” both=”” boys=”” recognized=”” at=”” once.=”” he=”” was=”” the=”” fellow=”” who=”” had=”” slugged=”” slow=”” mo=”” and=”” escaped=”” on=”” the=”” train.=”” and=”” the=”” same=”” one=”” who=”” had=”” quizzed=”” chet=”” on=”” the=”” farm=”” back=””>
Frank's brain raced to piece together the clues of this puzzle, which seemed to be dropping into place with amazing speed. Following a strong hunch, the Hardy boy said defiantly: ”You're C. B. M., otherwise known as Arrow Charlie.”
The big man's evil eyes fairly popped. Recovering from his surprise, he managed a crooked smile.
”Yes,” he said, ”I'm Charlie Morgan. You seem 180 well acquainted with my alias. Likewise, I'm well aware who you two are.”
The boys exchanged troubled glances as Morgan continued, his voice growing louder.
”I know all about you meddling Hardys. And this fat friend of yours here told me everything about your proposed trip to Crowhead.”
Arrow Charlie laughed raucously over the easy way in which he had learned of the boys'
plans. Chet winced, but Frank shot back defiantly: ”We've found out all about you and your Indians!”
”A lot of good that will do you,” Morgan gloated. ”You're going to stay here-as my guests-for a long, long time.”
”Not when Dad knows we're missing,” Frank retorted. ”He'll find us!”
”So you think,” Morgan shouted. His face grew purple with anger at the mention of Fenton Hardy's name. ”Your father's interfered all he's ever going to in my business.”
”So you're the one who shot him!” Frank said.
Arrow Charlie smiled evilly.
”No, I didn't shoot your father,” he said, ”although I'm not a bad shot myself.”
”Who did?” the boy demanded.
”One of my men,” came the answer. ”He's the greatest archer in the world. Nothing but the best 181 for Arrow Charlie! I'll call him and a couple of other friends of mine you should meet.” He clapped his hands.
The big man was reveling in the situation. Frank could see he was an egotist and quickly planned to make the most of the man's bragging and acquire some useful information.
”Your Arrow cigarettes were a clever stunt,” Frank led him on.
”You like the idea, eh?” Arrow Charlie asked. ”n.o.body would suspect an innocent-looking cigarette of containing knockout gas. I hear you got a whiff of it, too!”
The adobe hut echoed to Arrow Charlie's guffaws.
”But they'll never find out where I make 'em,” he boasted, ”and if Fenton Hardy thinks he'll keep on looking-well, another poisoned arrow for him!”
”You wouldn't dare!” Frank said hotly.
”Oh, wouldn't I?” Charlie sneered. ”Pretty soon I'm going to stop selling the stuff to crooks. There's a foreign country ready to pay me a king's ransom for my secret.”
Into the hut came a man and a woman. Charlie introduced them as his right-hand henchmen; the chief distributors of his product.
”You're the couple who left your car at Slow Mo's garage,” Frank shot at them. ”Who took the plates and filed off the engine number?”