Part 18 (2/2)
182 The man looked at his Indian wife, then said in surprise, ”I dunno.”
”Why didn't you come back for your car?” Frank asked.
”I did,” the man answered, ”but Slow Mo was talking to a state trooper, and I thought they was on to us. So vhat with losing the watch and-”
”I tell that part,” the Indian woman interrupted.
It came out that she was the owner of the wrist watch with the broken strap. While she was driving along one day, it had dropped off. She had put the watch and the attached strap in her purse. Her husband later had picked up the other piece and put it into the car's compartment.
Chet, proud of his friend's cleverness, blurted out the whole story of the watch strap.
Arrow Charlie was thunderstruck at first, but when the full import of how valuable a clue the strap had been began to dawn on him, he became furious.
”Take these kids away!” he roared to the Indian who had brought them. ”If they try to escape, I'll throw you and them into the hissing crack!”
The Indian lost his stalwart demeanor. ”I won't fail,” he promised.
With that Arrow Charlie pushed the boys through the door. Frank clenched his fists.
Nothing would have given him more satisfaction at that moment 183 than to take a swing at the man who had instigated the shooting of his father.
But knowing force would be futile, the boy went back quietly to the stockade with Ghet.
The door swung shut and the Indian padded away in the growing darkness.
Alone in the solitude of the stockade, Frank and Chet discussed the case of Arrow Charlie.
”If I ever get out of this,” Chet wailed, ”I'll never open my mouth again to a stranger.”
”Skip it,” Frank said. ”If you hadn't told Arrow Charlie where we were going, he'd have found out some other way.”
”Did you hear him mention a hissing crack?” Chet asked. ”What's that?”
”I'm trying to figure it out,” Frank replied. ”Apparently it's something the Indian is afraid of, otherwise he wouldn't have flinched at Charlie's threat. We've got to get out of here, p.r.o.nto. Dad's in danger of being shot again, and I'm afraid we may lose our own lives.”
”How can we go anywhere in the dark?” Chet asked dolefully. ”I can hardly see my hand in front of my face. We'd probably only get into worse trouble.”
Frank agreed to wait until daylight. But with the dawn came another unpleasant surprise.
A.
184 pack of dogs was tied next to the stockade. The boys could hear them snapping and growling.
Later in the day the dogs were suddenly released. Judging from their yelps, they were after somebody.
”What about Joe and the cowboys?” Chet asked with anxiety. ”Maybe th-the dogs are chasing them!”
CHAPTER XXII.
Racing for Aid.
in another part of the forest Joe sat under a pon-derosa pine tree. Pye squatted beside him. Their ponies were hobbled near by, occasionally swis.h.i.+ng their tails.
”I'm worried about Frank and Chet,” Joe said as he furrowed his brow.
The Indian stared impa.s.sively at the pine needles which blanketed the ground.
”Maybe get lost,” he grunted. ”No trail in woods.”
”And Terry,” Joe continued. ”Where'd he go?”
After Frank and Chet had failed to show up at the designated meeting place the night before, Joe, Pye, and Terry had set out to look for them. It was then that Terry had suddenly dropped out of sight. No trace of the singing cowboy could be found.
”I wonder,” Joe now hazarded a guess, as a frightening thought came to him, ”if Terry disappeared like the other cowboys from Crowhead!”
”Maybe bad hombres get him,” Pye replied. ”But Terry good friend. No savvy why he leave.”
”Let's go back to Frank's and Chet's ponies,” Joe said, getting up. ”Maybe the boys are waiting there.”
The two mounted and made their way to the spot. The ponies were there, but the missing boys still had not returned.
Joe dismounted. Reaching into his saddle bag, he drew out a pad and pencil. After hastily writing a note to his brother, saying they would return there again, he tucked one end of it under the saddle of Frank's pony. Then he and Pye set out on the search again, this time skirting the forest.
After they had ridden some distance, the trees became spa.r.s.er, giving way finally to a bald clearing at the foot of a cliff. Before the eyes of the startled boy and the Indian, a gruesome scene unfolded. From the top of the cliff a lamb, evidently fleeing from some wild animal, came hurtling down toward them. It landed in a broken heap near their ponies. Joe's mount reared up. Pye quieted his animal, then got off to examine the dead lamb.
”No wild sheep in this country,” Pye said, looking up at Joe. ”Men here. Go find.”
187 With that the Indian picked up the lamb and flung it on his saddle. Joe asked why.
”Maybe need,” he remarked without further explanation. Then he added as he mounted, ''Ride in trees. No noise.”
Entering the forest again, Joe and Pye picked their way carefully, scanning the dense timberland for any possible sign of Frank and Chs.t. Chs.t. Suddenly Joe reined in sharply. Suddenly Joe reined in sharply.
”Something moved ahead,” he said.
”Go on foot,” Pye suggested.
They dismounted, tied their horses and set off quietly. Presently the sound of a harsh voice came to their ears. Peering from behind a thicket, they saw a rider on a white-faced sorrel.
Joe, not more than thirty feet from the man, recognized him immediately. He was the big man he had chased from Slow Mo's garage!
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