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

exclaimed, “I’d better try to earn some quick money for the trip ! I could have helped the farmer down the road build the foundation for his new barn. But there’s not time enough!”
    â€œHop to it,” Joe said with a grin. “Do as much as you can.” Then he and Frank said good-by and drove off.
    Chet did not like to work. But he had no choice. With a sigh that could have been heard all the way to Bayport, he trudged down the road to carry stones for the farmer.
    He came home that evening exhausted from the rugged work. The next morning he rose early, put away a man-sized breakfast, and hurried back to his job.
    A big truck had dumped a huge pile of stones at the side of the road. It was Chet’s chore to haul them in a wheelbarrow to the site of the new foundation. About midday, as he was working alone and figuring on how soon he could get off for a lunchbreak, a strange man approached him.
    â€œHi,” Chet called out, eager for an excuse to rest.
    â€œLooks like you’re workin’ mighty hard,” said the man. He had broad shoulders, a large nose, and bushy black eyebrows.
    â€œSure am,” Chet agreed. “It’s tough work, especially when the sun’s so hot.”
    â€œWell,” the stranger replied, “a boy should help his father.”
    â€œI’m not doing this for my father,” Chet said, leaning against a fence post.
    â€œOh, no?” asked the man in surprise. “You’re just working here?”
    â€œThere’s a good reason,” Chet said as a smile wreathed his round face. “I’ve got to make some money in a hurry.”
    â€œIn a hurry?” the man repeated.
    â€œYes.” Chet threw out his chest proudly. “I’m leaving any minute. Goin’ out West.”
    â€œIs that a fact?” the stranger remarked. “What part of the West?”
    Chet was so enthusiastic about his trip that he told the man about the mysterious disappearances at Ruth Hardy’s ranch, and how the Hardy boys were taking their father’s place to investigate.
    A twisted smile, unnoticed by Chet, came to the man’s lips as he urged him to go on with his story. When he had finished, the man tugged at the brim of his hat. Then, without another word, he hurried down the road.
    â€œFunny kind of duck,” Chet said to himself.
    As he watched, the stranger walked under a low-hanging tree by the side of the road. An instant later Chet heard the roar of a motor and saw a car pull into the road. It sped toward Bayport.
    Pondering the man’s peculiar actions, Chet sat down to eat his lunch. Suddenly he let out a howl of dismay.
    â€œOh no,” he thought. “I wonder if I told that guy too much!”
    He loped home to call his friends.
    Meanwhile, the Hardy house was as busy as rodeo day in a prairie town. The airline office had telephoned offering three cancellations to El Paso the following morning. From there the boys would have to charter a plane for the two-hour trip north to Crowhead. After leaving the message with Mrs. Morton, Frank and Joe excitedly began gathering up the things they would need.
    During all this time the telephone had been ringing continually. Many friends of the Hardys inquired about the detective’s condition. Finally a call came through from Chet.
    â€œBoy, I’ve been trying to get you guys for an hour!” he complained. “Mother gave me your message about the plane. That’s swell. But listen, I think I’ve pulled a huge boner.”
    He apologetically told about his talk with the stranger, and described him.
    â€œWow!” Frank exclaimed. “He sounds like that bushy-browed man who came to Slow Mo’s and tried to take the abandoned car!”
    â€œI shouldn’t have opened my big mouth,” Chet said.
    After hanging up, Frank turned to Joe and told him the story. “That guy is keeping tabs on us,” he added. “I don’t