THE STOLEN IVORY
"Will you please send this card up to Mr. Beasley's rooms and tell
him that the visitors he was expecting are here?"
It was Frank Chester who spoke early the next day, as the boys, in
response to Lathrop's letter, stood at the Waldorf desk. The clerk
looked at them a little disdainfully. Frank and Harry Chester were
not the sort of boys who devoted much time to thinking about clothes
and while they both wore dark neat-fitting suits they certainly did
look a little out of place among the pasty-faced, cigarette-smoking
youths in loud-looking garments who constituted most of the young
men with whom the clerk was in the habit of coming in contact.
"I don't think that Mr. Beasley can see you now, call later," he
began, superciliously turning round to the letter-rack and sorting
out the mail and putting each guest's letters in the proper box.
For a second an angry flush rose to Frank's face. The man's manner
was enough to irritate any high spirited boy. But Frank Chester was
not given to what Bill Barnes called "flying off the handle." He
calmly took another card from his pocket and in a rather sharp
voice, though his tones were even enough said:
"Are you going to send that card up at once or shall I call the room
on the telephone?"
The clerk faced quickly about. The two youths he had looked upon as
rather awkward country bumpkins, judging as he did from their tanned
faces and broad shoulders, were evidently not to be trifled with. He
glanced at the card as he rolled it up and handed it to a boy to be
placed in a pneumatic tube and shot up to the fourth floor, on which
Mr. Beasley and his party had taken rooms.
"Oh, you are the Chester boys?" he exclaimed with a strong accent on
the "the" and in markedly more respectful tones.
"We are," said Frank with a smile which was reflected on his
brother's face.
"I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting, I'm sure," said the
clerk with an apologetic leer, meant to be an engaging smile.
"That's all right," said Frank shortly, turning away from the desk.
"Well, having your name in the paper does do you some good after
all," remarked Harry with a laugh. "That fellow certainly turned a
flip-flop, when he found out who we were."
Five minutes later the boys were ushered into the Beasley rooms and
were busily engaged shaking hands and exchanging all sorts of boyish
exclamations of welcome with Lathrop Beasley, a tall, rather slender
youth who had been their companion in Florida. Like the boys,
Lathrop was an accomplished aviator and wireless operator, although
he had not the initiative or the sturdy pluck to perform the feats
that they had. He was, however, a boy of considerable brain and
skill and among the boy-aviators of the country held an enviable
position.
"About your letter," began Frank when the first greetings were over.
"In a minute," replied Lathrop, "here's father now."
As he spoke, the portieres parted and a stout, fresh complexioned
gentleman, ruddy from his bath and shaving, appeared. He had the
pompous manner of the successful man of business and seemed to the
Chester boys to be the least bit patronizing in his manner.
"Mr. Barr will be here in a minute," he said, after introductions
had been made by Lathrop, "he will explain to you his idea. I am
merely a partner in the enterprise. You will, of course, be glad to
accept any restrictions he may impose?"
"We hardly care to discuss that yet," said Frank, rather nettled by
Mr. Beasley's pompous manner, "until we know what he requires." He
exchanged glances with Harry.
"In fact," he went on, "we were planning to take a complete rest and
follow in Mr. Roosevelt's foot-steps, by taking a hunting trip in
Africa, only," he added with a smile, "we meant to hunt by aeroplane."
"Wonderful," said Mr. Beasley, evidently much impressed by Frank's
ready manner, "when I was a boy, if a lad had a "bone-shaker"
bicycle he thought he was doing something fine, and as for flying--why,
we never thought of it."
"Perhaps the boys of to-day are further sighted," said Frank with
quiet note of sarcasm in his tone that was quite lost on the
well-meaning old merchant. Indeed at that moment Mr. Beasley rose
heavily from his chair and stepped forward to greet a new arrival
who appeared from another room of the suite.
"This is Mr. Luther Barr, the famous ivory importer," he said, with
far more respect in his tones than he had used to the boys; whom
indeed, he looked upon as talented chaps, but still boys--which to
men of his caliber is an infallible sign that anything such youthful
persons may attempt is extremely likely to go wrong. How erroneous
such an opinion is, those of our readers who have followed the
adventures of the Chester boys know.
Mr. Luther Barr deserves a new paragraph. Long, lean and hollow
cheeked, the term "gangling" fits him better than any other. Mr.
Luther Barr's black suit hung on him as baggily as the garments of a
cornfield scarecrow and Mr. Luther Barr's sharp features were not
improved by a small growth of gray hair; of the kind known as a
"goatee" that sprouted from his lower rip. For the rest of the boys
noticed that Mr. Barr was gifted with a singularly gimlet-like pair
of steely blue eyes that seemed to bore through you.
"As sharp a man as ever drove up the price of ivory," added Mr.
Beasley as he introduced the boys to this singular figure, "he can
scent an ivory bargain--"
"From here to Africa," struck in Mr. Barr in a sharp nasal tone that
grated unpleasantly, "and you and I are going to be Kings of Wall
Street if these boys put this deal through for us," he added with
what was meant to be an amiable smile, but which, as a matter of
fact, distorted his face till it looked uncommonly like an old
Japanese war mask. Indeed the boys, who had seen the collection in
the Metropolitan Museum, could not help smiling to themselves, as
the same thought struck each of them.
"Well, Beasley," exclaimed Barr suddenly, "I'm as sharp set as a
Long Island fox. Let's have a bite of breakfast and then we can get
down to business."
From Mr. Barr's manner of dispatching his breakfast and the
remarkable skill with which he wielded his knife, in conveying
various morsels to his mouth, it was evident that he had spent so
much time piling up money that his social education had been sadly
neglected. Once or twice the boys caught Lathrop's eye and they saw
that the lad was blushing with shame at the uncouth manners of his
father's friend. For this reason the boys refrained from paying any
apparent attention to Mr. Barr's actions, although--as, they
remarked afterwards--he was as well worth watching as the "sword
swallower in a circus side show."
"Yes, boys," said Mr. Barr with his mouth full of buttered toast and
ham and eggs, "I guess I know more about Africa than any man alive."
"You have crossed that continent?" asked Frank..
"No, sir," replied the old ivory merchant with some contempt. "I
wouldn't waste my time where there ain't no ain't no money. What I
mean is, I know more about the Gold Coast, the Ivory Coast and the
Slave Coast than any man in this or any other country and have got
more good solid coin out of them."
Mr. Beasley looked up admiringly from his plate. Here was evidently
a man after his own heart.
"The Slave Coast?" echoed Harry inquiringly, "I thought--"
"Thought there wasn't no more slaves, eh?" inquired Mr. Barr
amiably, swallowing his coffee with a noise like water running out
of a bath tub, "wall, that's because yer young. When yer git older
you'll larn that there's money in everything here's a demand for,
and there's just as big a demand for slaves on some rubber
plantations I could tell yer of as there ever was in the old days of
the South--and more money in 'em on account of its being more
dangerouser."
"Do you mean to say that there is slave-running now?" asked Mr.
Beasley, while both Frank and Harry wondered and Lathrop looked
uncomfortable.
"Sure I do," chirped Mr. Barr, "but no more for me. There's too
many British gunboats and 'Merican gunboats and Dutch gunboats and
what not about now to make it comfortable or healthy. No, I've
retired from that business--but there's money in it," he concluded
with a regretful sigh.
Immediately Mr. Barr had concluded his breakfast--and with his
apparently slim accommodations it was a wonder to the boys where he
put it all--he snapped, with a flinty glint of his small pig-like
eyes:
"Now, let's git down to business. You boys want ter make a bit of
money?"
"'To be sure we do," replied Frank, "but we don't want to make any
that isn't honest money."
"We'll, there's no accounting for boys nowadays," sighed Mr. Barr,
"however, you needn't worry about this money--there'll be plenty of
it and it'll all be good honest coin."
"What do you wish us to do?" demanded Frank.
"Just this: Mr. Beasley here and me is in on a deal in ivory. That
is, we were, but the big cache we had hoarded up in the Kuroworo
Mountains in the Bambara country has been stolen by a rival trader,
an Arab named Muley-Hassan. We know where he's hidden it and we
know, too, that he won't dare to bring it out till he thinks that we
aren't watching him. Now the time is ripe for a big deal in Ivory.
There is a shortage in the market. Prices will go up sky high. If
we get it out in time we'll make a barrel of coin, but if we don't
we stand to lose heavily."
Mr. Beasley gave a groan; to the boys' amazement he seemed to be
about to collapse. Lathrop too looked ill and anxious. Old Barr
paid no attention, however, but went on.
"Now, I heard about you boys and your air-ship, and I heard, too,
that you was planning a little trip to Africa and thought you might
like to combine business and pleasure."
He drew from his pocket a much-thumbed, crudely drawn map and spread
it out on the table. How he obtained it, the boys never learned
exactly, but they heard later that a treacherous attendant of the
ivory dealer had sold it to him for a good round sum.
"This country down here," he said, indicating it with a black rimmed
finger nail, "is the Southern Soudan. Here's the Bambara country to
the north of Uasule. Now right at this point, in the Moon Mountain
range,"--he pointed to a red-marked trail zigzagging across the map
to the range and terminating in a red star--"right at that thar
point, old Muley-Hassan, the Arab, has hidden our ivory cache. You
see the latitude and longitude is marked and furthermore--and here's
the most remarkable part of it--you will know the spot when you see
it by the fact that the mountains above the cache present an exact
facsimile of an upturned human face. In a direct line drawn from
the nose of this face, where you see the red star, lies the ivory."
The boys were deeply interested. Unpleasant as was the impression
old Barr had made on them, yet what he was disclosing was
impressive; but as yet they did not show that they were anything
more than casually struck by it.
"Well, Mr. Barr?" said Frank, as the old matt paused impressively.
"Well--" said Mr. Barr, "the scoundrel stole it and it's up to you
to get it out of there, if you will undertake it."
"How does it depend on us?" asked Frank.
"In just this way. Muley-Hassan has his eye on us---we can do
nothing toward locating the ivory. You can pitch a camp there and
scout about for it in your aeroplane or dirigible or whatever you
call it."
"But even if we do find the Arab's hiding-place, what good does that
do?" objected Frank.
"We can arrange with the French government to send soldiers up into
the country and get the stuff out, if necessary," readily replied
the wrinkled old ivory dealer, "but we can make no move till the
cave is located. If they suspected we were after it, they would
soon move it to another hiding-place or even pack it cross-country
to the Nile and ship it out by the Mediterranean."
Frank and Harry asked leave to hold a brief consultation at the
conclusion of which, they announced that they would think the matter
over, and see Mr. Barr at his office the next day. The old man was
far too shrewd to insist on a decision then and there, and so he
left the hotel with the boys' promise to consider the matter
carefully. As for Frank and Harry, they had pretty well made up
their minds not to have anything to do with Mr. Barr, but an
unforeseen circumstance altered their determination. As Barr left
the room with Mr. Beasley, Lathrop turned on them with troubled
eyes.
"Will you do it, Frank?" he asked anxiously. "Please say yes."
"Why, Lathrop, whatever is the matter," asked Harry, noticing the
almost painful anxiety, with which the boy looked at Frank and hung
on his decision.
"It's just this," said the boy in a voice that shook, as he tried to
steady it, "if that ivory isn't found, we shall be ruined. My
father will be beggared."
"Beggared," exclaimed both the Boy Aviators who had regarded Mr.
Beasley--as indeed did his friends in general--as one of the "best
fixed" business men in New York.
"It's true,"' said Lathrop, despairingly. "He has been speculating
foolishly and entered into an agreement with this man Barr to borrow
money for still further stock deals. The only hope he has of paying
his debts is the realization of the profits he could have made on
the ivory. Its theft was a bitter blow to him, not so much for his
own sake, as for my mother and sisters. Myself I don't care, I can
get out and work, but it would break my heart to see them reduced to
poverty."
The situation was a difficult one for the Chester Boys. They had
taken a hearty dislike to the crafty old ivory merchant and had made
up their minds not to enter into any enterprise in which he was
interested. Here, however, was a new complication.
"Give us half-an-hour, Lathrop," said Frank at length, and the two
boys withdrew to another room to talk the matter over. It was ten
minutes past the agreed time when they came back.
In the meantime Lathrop had been joined by his father and the two
had waited in painful anticipation for the Boy Aviators' verdict.
"Well--," began Lathrop eagerly as the two boys with grave faces
reentered the room.
"Well," said Frank, with a smile, "I guess we'll help you out,
Lath."
Tears stood in the eyes of both Mr. Beasley and his son, as in shaky
voices they endeavored to thank the Chester Boys.
"That's all right, Lathrop," said Frank at length--"turn about's
fair play. You drove the aeroplane to Bellman's island you remember
and saved us--now, we'll save you and your father, if we can--how
long can you give us, Mr. Beasley?" he asked, briskly turning to the
thoroughly humbled merchant.
"Eight weeks--if I hear from you by cable in eight weeks I can keep
things going," was the reply.
"Phew!" whistled Frank, "that's not an awful lot of time."
"Can you do it, Frank?" asked Lathrop eagerly.
"We'll try as hard as we know how," was the modest answer.
"And--and you'll take me along?" faltered Lathrop.
"Sure, you can come as your father's representative at large,"
laughed Frank.