The Sign of the Crooked Arrow by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online Page A

about those plane reservations for the trip to Cousin Ruth’s.”
    Before leaving the hospital, Frank telephoned Chet about the proposed Western trip. Their pal eagerly accepted the invitation.
    The boys had a hasty lunch at a coffee shop, and then drove to the Bayport Air Terminal. Striding up to the ticket office, Frank and Joe approached one of the clerks.
    â€œWe’d like three reservations to Albuquerque as soon as we can get them,” Frank said.
    The clerk examined his schedule. “Sorry,” he said. “Everything’s booked for a week.”
    â€œA week!” groaned Joe. “How about a plane to another point and a transfer?”
    The clerk shook his head. “The schedule West is full.”
    â€œAll right,” Frank sighed. “Put us on the list for cancellations.” He gave the man their names, address, and telephone number.
    â€œWe’ll get in touch with you as soon as something comes up,” the clerk told him.
    Frank and Joe got into their car and started for home. As Frank breezed along, Joe suggested:
    â€œLet’s drop by Chet’s and ask him to get ready. No telling when we may be leaving!”
    â€œRight.”
    When they slowed down on the road fronting the Morton farm, a strange sight greeted their eyes. In a pasture among a herd of cows rode a cowboy on a chestnut mare.
    â€œYahoo!” Joe laughed. “It’s Chet!”
    The boys stopped and got out.
    â€œHi, pardner!” called Frank. “Where’d you get that rig?”
    â€œBought it, of course,” puffed Chet.
    He leaned over in the saddle and looked down at the Hardys. “I’m practicing for our Western trip. Just watch this, fellows!”
    Chet swung a rope over his head, then tossed it at a Holstein grazing complacently nearby. The rope snaked through the air and landed over an old tree stump.
    â€œBull’s-eye!” Joe wisecracked.
    â€œThat was only the first try,” Chet retorted. “Watch this one.”
    He looped the rope again. It glided through the air and landed neatly over the cow’s head.
    â€œHow ’bout that!” he cried triumphantly.
    Chet, apparently wishing to impress his audience, yanked the rope as he had seen professionals do. With a toss of her head, the animal gave a loud, frightened bellow, then started to run.
    Chet had been gazing at Frank and Joe hoping to elicit a word of praise, and was not watching the cow. Suddenly, with a jerk, she pulled him from the horse.
    With a thud, somewhat cushioned by his ample weight, the boy landed in a clump of grass. The Hardys roared with laughter.
    â€œDo it again,” Joe teased.
    He leaned over to help Chet to his feet. As he did so, the cow, tired of the whole annoyance, butted Joe squarely in the rear.
    â€œOomph!” he grunted as he sprawled in the pasture. The annoyed cow ambled away. Chet enjoyed a few good horselaughs.
    â€œA fine bunch of cowboys you are!” Frank bellowed.
    Joe got up and brushed himself off, then looked over at Chet. “Be thankful that wasn’t a bull,” he said ruefully.
    The conversation turned to the boys’ latest news. Frank explained the reason for their trip.
    â€œBe ready to fly out West the minute we call you,” Joe told Chet. “Dad wants us to start as soon as we can get reservations.”
    Chet beamed. “Hey, that’s swell!”
    â€œAnd remember, old boy, there’s a weight limit on luggage,” Frank reminded him.
    Chet sighed heavily. “Why, my saddle and boots and duffel bag and—”
    â€œAnd you,” Joe teased, “all add up to about five hundred pounds!”
    â€œNo fooling,” Frank said, “you can’t take all this stuff with you.”
    â€œI guess you’re right,” Chet agreed sadly.
    â€œDon’t worry.” Joe said. “I’m sure they’ll have gear for us out at the ranch.”
    â€œBoy,” Chet