The Tables Turn
Gripped by utter astonishment, Biff could only stare from Serbot to
Stannart. When he found his voice, he blurted out accusingly:
“You two must have been working together from the very start!”
“Not quite,” declared Mr. Stannart dryly, “although I must say that Mr.
Serbot and I have continually operated along similar lines. However, it
wasn’t until after your father told the Ajax Corporation about Lew Kirby
and his wonderful mine that I even heard of Nicholas Serbot.”
“And I,” rejoined Serbot, with his same fixed smile, “had never heard of
the Ajax Mining Corporation.”
“Despite the fact that your father was impressed by Kirby’s story,”
Stannart told Biff, “Ajax still had to investigate it. Kirby had samples
of gold that might have come from many places, and his map could have
meant nothing. It was necessary to obtain some reports from the upper
region of the Rio Negro. I learned that certain European interests were
checking on the same story.”
“And I,” added Serbot, “happened to represent some of those interests.”
“So while the directors of the Ajax Corporation dawdled,” continued
Stannart, “I contacted the competition. I had much to offer that they
needed, as Mr. Serbot will agree.”
“And I,” said Serbot, “advised them to meet the price, which
included—this.”
By “this” Serbot referred to the stolen portion of Kirby’s map, which he
spread on the desk in front of him. Biff started to say something, then
caught himself. Gregg Stannart recognized what was in Biff’s mind and
promptly expressed it.
“I needed a go-between,” Stannart asserted. “Some way to enable Serbot
to use the information I could give him without bringing suspicion on
myself.”
“So you gave me that letter!” exclaimed Biff. He turned accusingly
toward Serbot. “And you tried to steal it from me on the plane! It was
all arranged beforehand!”
“All very nicely arranged,” agreed Stannart, “because I wanted to keep
my job with Ajax if the El Dorado story proved to be a hoax.”
“Since I might have seen the address on the envelope you carried,”
Serbot told Biff, “you and your father guessed that I sent Pepito to
steal your precious map, which was exactly what I wanted. What you
didn’t guess was that Stannart was in on the game. The funniest
part”—for once, Serbot’s smile seemed real—“was that I had a carbon copy
of Stannart’s letter to your father, here in my pocket all the time!”
Biff swelled with indignation until he happened to glance toward Kamuka.
All this talk had left Kamuka totally unimpressed. In Kamuka’s eyes,
Biff saw only the same appeal that had been present that day when Biff
had pulled the other boy from the quicksand. Biff suddenly realized that
now they both were in something equally deep and probably just as
deadly. Since he couldn’t say anything that would help, Biff said
nothing.
Stannart turned to Serbot and put the question:
“What should we do with these boys?”
“I don’t know,” returned Serbot harshly. “Maybe they should have upset
their boat and drowned, coming down through those rapids. If something
like that had happened—”
“No, no,” Stannart interrupted. “Your men will have taken care of
Brewster and his party by now. But we still need the boys to help us.
Suppose we take them up the river, as far as the torn portion of your
map—”
Stannart was leaning forward, pointing to the map with one hand, but he
had his other hand in his pocket, as though gripping a gun.
“Of course!” exclaimed Serbot, who had one hand in a pocket, too. “Then
they could take us back to where they came from, to this El Dorado that
Nara talked about.”
Both Stannart and Serbot were glaring hard at Biff as though now it was
his turn to speak. Biff’s throat was dry, for he realized that these two
men, in their desire for gold, would think nothing about snuffing out
his life and Kamuka’s. Somebody had to speak for Biff right then—and
somebody did, from the door of the cabin.
“Nobody talks about El Dorado,” a crackly voice announced, “except Joe
Nara, the man who owns it.”
There in the doorway stood old Joe, both his guns drawn from their
holsters, one fixed on Stannart, the other on Serbot. At Nara’s nod, the
two men brought their hands from their pockets empty. They knew the old
man meant business.
“Pretty smart, both of you,” Nara said. “I never even guessed your game,
Stannart, probably because I never met you before. But having seen you
now, I think I would have known you for a rat from away back.
“But I figured you out, Serbot. I knew what you were after—that cargo of
mine. So I stayed with them.” Nara gave his head a quick tilt, to smile
at Biff and Kamuka. “Yes, boys, I sent my Wai Wais down to the rapids,
while I stayed in the cabin of my _monteria_.
“Next thing I knew”—Nara gave a chuckle—“you were bringing me downriver,
and a right good job you were making of it, too. Finally, you hauled up
beside this yacht and went on board. When you didn’t come back, I
reckoned you might be needing old Joe, so I moseyed on board, and here I
am.”
Still keeping Stannart and Serbot covered with his guns, Nara shifted
his elbow toward his hip pocket to indicate a coil of rope that
projected there.
“Take that rope,” Nara told the boys, “and tie them up tight. Gag them,
too, with their handkerchiefs. If they don’t have any, use your own.
Make a good job of it. I want them to be here when I send around for
them.”
Biff and Kamuka followed Nara’s instructions eagerly. They did a good
job with the gags, too, while Nara, brandishing his guns, kept talking
to Stannart and Serbot in an accusing tone.
“I figured you out before I ever met you,” declared Nara, “because I
knew I’d be meeting up with rats some time, and you just happened to be
it. You figured you’d get rid of me if you could, and even if you
couldn’t you’d jump my claim. After all, who was Joe Nara? Just some
crazy guy who thought he’d found El Dorado.
“Crazy, yes, but like a fox. I came down the Orinoco more than once to
make sure my claim was registered after each political shakeup in
Venezuela. I didn’t even take any chances on this last trip.”
Nara paused, then chuckled as he turned to the boys who had finished
tying Stannart and Serbot in their chairs.
“Remember how I dropped from sight in Puerto Ayacucho?” asked Nara. “Do
you know where I was most of the day? Having lunch with His Excellency,
the governor of the Amazonas Territory, that’s where. I told him some
people were trying to steal my claim. He said he wouldn’t let them get
away with it.
“After I left his office, I snooped around and happened to be handy when
you ran into trouble with Urubu. I’d finished my business with the
governor. He said if he didn’t hear from me, he’d send some soldiers
downriver to look me up.”
Nara examined the knots that the boys had tied and gave an approving
nod. He beckoned them out through the cabin door, which he closed behind
him. The yacht’s crew suspected nothing, for they helped Nara and the
boys over the rail and down into their waiting _monteria_.
As they started up the broad Orinoco, Nara pointed to some boats that
were coming toward them.
“Government boats,” he chuckled, “bringing those soldiers I spoke
about.”
When they met the boats, they found the other _monterias_ with them,
manned by Biffs father, Mr. Whitman, and Jacome. The Venezuelan troops
had arrived at the blockhouse during the battle and had helped rout
Serbot’s followers, who were commanded by Pepito.
In the rapids, they had contacted Nara’s Wai Wais, who had overpowered
and captured Urubu and his crew. Igo and Ubi would be along later, Mr.
Brewster stated, bringing their prisoners with them.
“But we saw no sign of Serbot,” declared Mr. Brewster. “I think we
should offer a reward for his capture. I’ll talk to Mr. Stannart about
it, when I see him on the yacht.”
“You better wait, Dad, till we tell you what happened,” Biff advised
soberly.
Mr. Brewster was shocked when he heard Biff’s story. “I can hardly
believe it!” he exclaimed. “Gregg Stannart, of all men! But now that I
think of it,” he added thoughtfully, “there’s been a piece missing from
the puzzle right along—and Stannart was it!” He shook his head. “I still
can’t believe it.”
Now Mr. Brewster was more eager than anyone to take Stannart and Serbot
into custody. As they approached the _Coronet_, they noticed excitement
on the deck. Mr. Brewster studied the yacht through his binoculars and
announced:
“I see Stannart and Serbot, both of them. The crew must have found them
in the cabin and released them.”
A fast boat containing a squad of Venezuelan soldiers sped ahead to
board the yacht. Sight of the military uniforms must have quenched any
desire for fight in Stannart and Serbot, for suddenly a little motor
launch scooted from the far side of the yacht and bounded through the
choppy waves toward the left bank of the river.
Only Stannart and Serbot were in the tiny tender. The boat with the
Venezuelan soldiers turned to pursue it, opening rifle fire, but the
fugitives kept on. Then, just as it seemed sure they would be overtaken,
the chase ended. The soldiers, about to fire at close range, suddenly
lowered their rifles.
“It’s too late,” declared Mr. Brewster glumly. “They can’t be captured
now. They have passed the middle of the river and are across the
international line, in Colombian jurisdiction.”
The captain of the yacht was astonished when told the reason for
Stannart’s flight. He and his crew had known nothing about Stannart’s
double-dealing. They had supposed that Serbot was simply a friend who
had come on board to meet the owner. They had been puzzled to find the
pair bound and gagged after Nara and the boys had left.
Stannart had claimed that Nara and the boys had tried to rob him. The
yacht captain had accepted that explanation until Stannart and Serbot
saw the Venezuelan soldiers and suddenly took flight. Then it was plain
that something was wrong.
Contact was made with Caracas, the capital of Venezuela, and from there,
radiograms were relayed to and from New York. Word finally came from the
directors of the Ajax Mining Corporation, stating that they had checked
their accounts and found that Stannart had taken most of the available
funds before starting on his Caribbean yacht trip.
The Ajax Corporation obtained an order enabling them to take over the
_Coronet_, and the yacht was placed in Mr. Brewster’s charge. They also
authorized Mr. Brewster to complete the transaction with Joe Nara on
whatever terms might be mutually satisfactory.
That was done on board the _Coronet_, which was still anchored near the
junction of the Meta and the Orinoco. Mr. Brewster set the date when the
Ajax Corporation would take over the mine with a down payment of a
quarter of a million dollars to Joe Nara and a block of El Dorado stock
that would guarantee him a share of all future profits.
That same day, Joe Nara prepared to start back up the Orinoco with Igo,
Ubi, and the other Wai Wais, who were eager to rejoin their fellow
tribesmen as the guardians of El Dorado. Hal Whitman arranged to go
along to represent the Ajax Company, taking Jacome with him. Kamuka
packed his few belongings, expecting to accompany them. The Indian boy
was saying a reluctant good-by to Biff on the deck of the yacht, when
Mr. Brewster quietly commented:
“You don’t have to go, Kamuka, if you’d rather come with us.”
Kamuka’s eyes popped wide with eager surprise. Biff showed the same
feeling, when he exclaimed, “You really mean it, Dad?”
“I do,” rejoined Mr. Brewster. “Hal Whitman told me he has made plans to
send Kamuka to a new school that is opening in Brasilia, the capital of
Brazil. But Hal can’t possibly get down there for the next few weeks, or
more. So there’s no reason why Kamuka can’t come home with us. Then he
can fly to Brasilia after Mr. Whitman arrives there.”
Biff turned and clapped Kamuka on the shoulder.
“Will we have fun, Kamuka! First, the yacht will take us out into the
Atlantic Ocean—”
“I have heard of it,” put in Kamuka. “They say it is bigger than a
thousand Amazons.”
“And you’ll see New York, which is more wonderful than any El Dorado!”
It was hard to tell which boy felt the greater thrill. Each was glad to
continue a companionship in which they had shared so many adventures,
forming the bonds of a friendship that would last always.
Mr. Brewster was the most pleased of all. He stood at the stem of the
yacht with Biff and Kamuka, while they were churning their way down the
broad Orinoco toward Ciudad Bolivar, the largest port on the river. It
was then that Biff turned to his father and said, very seriously:
“Dad, I can’t see how Stannart and Serbot missed out. When they used me
as a go-between, they had everything so easy.”
“So easy, Biff?”
“Yes. I must have been a big handicap to the safari. I’d never even seen
a jungle, let alone run into the sort of dangers we found there.”
“But you learned to meet those dangers, and more.”
“Well, yes. I certainly did learn some things.”
“And so did the rest of us,” declared Mr. Brewster. “Our enemies put us
in spots where we had to pull one another out. That was their big
mistake. The situations that we overcame early sharpened us for the
problems we met later. That’s why we won out.”
As Biff nodded slowly, his father added with a smile:
“Think back, Biff, and you’ll see how it adds up.”
Biff gazed back at the wide Orinoco, tapering to the dim, distant scenes
of those final adventures, and he knew that his dad was right.
_A Biff Brewster Mystery Adventure_
BRAZILIAN GOLD MINE MYSTERY
By ANDY ADAMS
“Guard this letter as you would your life!”
With these words ringing in his ears, Biff Brewster boards the
Brazil-bound plane to join his father on a safari to the headwaters of
the Amazon River—a safari that, to Biff’s amazement, becomes a deadly
contest for fabulous riches.
From the beginning, Biff, his father, Biffs friend Kamuka, and the rest
of the party find their path menaced by an enemy who never reveals
himself. Is it Nicholas Serbot, the suave stranger whom Biff first meets
on the plane? Or is it Joe Nara, the eccentric old prospector, the only
white man alive who knows the route to the almost legendary El Dorado
gold mine?
Biff and Kamuka find their days crowded with the hazards and thrills of
jungle travel as they trek through a wilderness echoing with the threat
of “Macu”—the dreaded head-hunters. And waiting for them at the end of
the trail are a shock and a surprise beyond their wildest dreams.
Young readers will love this lively, adventure-filled story with its
combination of realism and fantastic mystery. Here is the first exciting
book in a brand-new series for boys. Other Biff Brewster stories are
also available at your booksellers.
_NEW!_ BIFF BREWSTER
Mystery Adventures
By ANDY ADAMS
[Illustration: Biff Brewster]
Biff Brewster, sixteen, is a tall, strongly built blond youth who lives
In Indianapolis, Indiana, with his parents and the eleven-year-old
twins, Ted and Monica. Because his mother and father believe that travel
is as important to education as formal schooling, Biff is encouraged to
travel to various countries during the vacation months. His experiences
in these lands, and the young people he meets there, form the basis of a
new series for adventure-loving readers. In every journey there is a
strong element of mystery, usually a direct result of conditions
peculiar to the region in which he is traveling. Thus, in addition to
adventure, these books impart carefully researched information about
foreign countries.
_Start reading one today_—
(1) BRAZILIAN GOLD MINE MYSTERY
(2) MYSTERY OF THE CHINESE RING
(3) HAWAIIAN SEA HUNT MYSTERY
(4) MYSTERY OF THE MEXICAN TREASURE
(5) AFRICAN IVORY MYSTERY
(6) ALASKA GHOST GLACIER MYSTERY
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Inc. Publisher
New York 10, N. Y.
[Illustration: Endpapers]
Transcriber’s Notes
--Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public
domain in the country of publication.
--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and
dialect unchanged.
--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the
HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)
End of Project Gutenberg's Brazilian Gold Mine Mystery, by Andy Adams