THE EMERALD PIT
“Just a minute, please,” Mr. Livingston interposed as the mining
engineer started to leave the office. “We’ve come a long distance to see
Appleby Corning. I feel I must know more about his strange
disappearance.”
Rhodes halted in the doorway, scowling. “I’m busy,” he replied
pointedly. “As I told you, work isn’t progressing as it should. Whenever
I turn my back, those confounded Indians lean on their tools, instead of
working.”
“We won’t keep you long,” Mr. Livingston returned in a quiet voice.
“Just tell us what became of Mr. Corning.”
“I don’t know,” the engineer retorted in exasperation. “I thought I made
that clear.”
“Why do you say he’s probably dead.”
“Because he’s a captive of Carlos.”
“The bandit!”
“So I assume. I’d heard repeated reports that the mine was being badly
managed. I came here to see if I could help. Lucky I did too. I found
everything in chaos. Bandits, led by Carlos, had dropped down on the
camp twelve hours earlier. They’d robbed the safe of emeralds and taken
Corning captive.”
“How long ago was that?” Mr. Livingston asked.
“Ten days ago.”
“What attempt have you made to trace Appleby?”
“None.”
“None?” The Scout leader repeated sharply.
“It’s useless,” the engineer informed him. “You don’t know this country.
Carlos is a devil. It would take a small army to blast him out of his
hide-out.”
“He didn’t seem such a bold demon when we brushed into him,” Jack
drawled, entering the conversation. “In fact, he turned tail and ran
like a coward.”
Rhodes turned to stare intently at the youth. “You encountered Carlos?”
he demanded. “Where?”
“On the trail. He was alone.”
“He tried to rob us,” contributed Ken, “but we were fortunate enough to
elude him.”
“Carlos doesn’t usually operate alone,” Rhodes informed the group. “You
were lucky he didn’t shoot you at sight.”
“If we’d known that he had taken Mr. Corning captive, we’d have pursued
him,” Mr. Livingston said. “Where is his hide-out?”
“Oh, he has half a dozen of them back in the hills,” the mining engineer
returned vaguely. “He moves from one to another. A reward has been
placed on his head, but no one ever collects.”
“You say you’ve made no effort to try to find Corning?”
“That’s right,” Rhodes retorted, “and I don’t like your tone, Mister.
You know what these mountain trails are like.”
“We do.”
“I can’t send natives to look for him. They wouldn’t venture a step. As
for myself, it would be folly to leave the mine. My first duty is to the
operators.”
“So nothing is to be done?”
“I didn’t put it that way,” Mr. Rhodes returned, his eyes flashing. “If
your friend is still alive—which I seriously doubt—there will be a
ransom demand in time. It will be prohibitive, of course. Whether or not
it is met, will be up to the mine operators, not to me.”
“I’m not satisfied to sit and wait, Mr. Rhodes. Appleby and I were close
friends. Something must be done.”
“Then you do it!” the engineer snapped. He started to leave the office,
then paused again. “I’ll put you up here for a day or so, if you’re not
too particular about your accommodations,” he told the group. “One of
the men will show you to your quarters as soon as the place has been
fumigated.”
“Fumigated?” Mr. Livingston’s eyebrows jerked upward. “For insects, you
mean?”
“Not exactly. The last occupant died of some unknown disease that’s been
knocking the natives off like flies.”
“In that case, we’ll use our sleeping bags and remain out-of-doors,” Mr.
Livingston stated. “We have our canvas shelters.”
“Suit yourself,” the engineer shrugged. “The nights here get pretty cold
though. After a couple of days, I think you’ll be hitting the trail.”
No one made a reply. The engineer hesitated a moment, and then without
saying more, went out of the building. The Scouts saw him descend a
series of roughly hewn stone steps into a pit where a dozen natives were
at work.
Mr. Livingston made certain that no one loitered near the office, before
he spoke. Then he said: “The situation is a lot worse than I expected.”
“Rhodes may be lying!” Ken asserted.
“Do you think Appleby Corning really is dead?” War asked anxiously.
“Something has happened to him, that’s evident,” the Scout leader
replied. “I was afraid of it when he didn’t meet us or send word.”
“All the same, there’s something fishy about Rhodes’ story,” Jack
insisted. “Why would he show up here at exactly the right moment to
check on the mine? Wasn’t he discharged?”
“That was my understanding, Jack. Corning didn’t write very much, you
know.”
“The natural thing after being discharged would be to clear out,” Jack
went on. “Rhodes apparently didn’t do that. He hung around, waiting for
a chance to move in.”
“And maybe he created that chance!” suggested Willie. “Maybe he did away
with Corning himself! I’ll bet the tale about Carlos swooping down here
is a phony!”
“It might be,” Mr. Livingston conceded. “That part should be easy to
check, if we can talk with the natives. Some of them must speak a little
English.”
“Rhodes has moved in here to further his own interests, and he doesn’t
give a hoot what became of Appleby Corning,” Willie expanded his theory.
“It’s to his advantage not to have him found.”
“That’s so,” agreed Jack. “Getting rid of Corning may have been part of
a well-planned scheme. If it’s true that Rhodes came here only ten days
ago, it’s unlikely he’d have had time to get word to his wife.”
“Yet she knew he was in charge here days ago!” Ken exclaimed.
“Otherwise, she wouldn’t have made the trip.”
“I’m terribly afraid Appleby has been the victim of treachery,” Mr.
Livingston nodded. “We’ve got to learn what became of him, and not
depend on Rhodes’ word either.”
“We might drive him into a corner, and try to force the truth out of
him,” War proposed.
The others vetoed his suggestion. “That wouldn’t get us anywhere,” Mr.
Livingston objected. “Rhodes controls the natives here. His word is
law.”
“Can’t we organize search parties?” Willie asked.
“In this jungle growth?” Jack caught him up. “It would be worse than
looking for a needle in a haystack! Without a clue as to Carlos’
hide-out, we’d lose ourselves, and never find Corning.”
“That’s the way it looks to me,” Mr. Livingston admitted. “Another
thing, I’m not fully convinced that my friend was seized by bandits. Our
first job is to confirm that fact.”
“Rhodes won’t do anything to help us,” Ken said. “Where do we start?”
“While you fellows get settled, I’ll amble around to see what I can
learn,” Jack offered.
Once outside the office building, curiosity led him toward the V-shaped
pit where stocky Indians labored with crowbar and pick. A vein of beryl
lay exposed.
With infinite skill, the laborers shattered the rock, taking care not to
smash the calcite or the emeralds. Eagerly, Rhodes examined the exposed
gems. But the take did not satisfy him. With an exclamation of rage, he
struck one of the workers in the face.
The fellow stumbled backward against the rocks. A small object rolled
from his gnarled hand. Only then did Jack realize that Rhodes’ anger had
been caused by the native’s thievery.
The engineer seized the gem and dropped it into his leather pouch. His
gaze fell upon Jack who stood watching.
“Get out of here!” he ordered harshly. “No one is allowed near the vein
except the workmen! Believe me, I have enough trouble watching them.
They steal me blind!”
“You or the company?” Jack asked, irked by the engineer’s unwarranted
attack.
“The company,” Rhodes corrected himself. “Every gem taken from this mine
is accounted for, I assure you. But the vein’s playing out. A new pit
must be opened, or the mine soon will close down.”
Jack made no reply for his eyes were on the fallen workman. The fellow
had no shoes, his trousers were ragged, and his shirt torn. It was his
gaze however, that held the Scout’s attention. The man was eyeing Rhodes
with a deep, smoldering hatred.
The engineer himself became aware of the expression. Ignoring Jack for
the moment, he strode over and bestowed a savage kick upon the fallen
one.
“Thieving leech!” he berated him. “Stupid, stealing fool!”
His wrath expended, the engineer again turned upon Jack.
“Didn’t I ask you to get out of here?” he asked coldly but with his
voice now carefully controlled. “No one is allowed in the pit. It’s a
company rule.”
“I’m sorry,” Jack apologized. “I’ll leave. You needn’t worry, though,
about any of the Scouts taking your emeralds.”
“No?” The engineer flashed an amused smile. “Son, if you’re here long
enough, you may find their lure irresistible. Many a murder has been
committed for an emerald—here at this mine too.”
“Appleby Corning being the latest victim?”
“Carlos has preyed upon this mine for years,” Rhodes replied, not
answering Jack’s question directly. “He’s a bad actor.”
“Why doesn’t someone clean out his gang?”
“This isn’t the United States,” Rhodes retorted. “The authorities can’t
be bothered. Now will you move out and stop asking so many questions?
You hinder me.”
Jack nodded and climbed out of the pit, but not before he had made
careful note of the fallen workman. He would remember the face. Later,
if he approached the matter right, the man might talk.
Leaving the pit, he sought his companions, who had pitched their tents
in a sheltered area some distance from the huts.
“Learn anything, Jack?” Ken accosted him as he came up.
“Not yet. Rhodes drove me out of the mine.”
“We took a look at that hut Rhodes assigned to us,” Willie informed him
in disgust. “It’s the worst looking hole in the place. We figure he
wanted to make it as tough as possible for us.”
“Where’s Mrs. Rhodes?”
“She’s moved into the best place in the diggings, with her husband.” Ken
pointed to a well-built frame structure near the main office. “That must
have been where Appleby Corning lived.”
“I wish we could look through his papers,” Mr. Livingston said. “We
might run into something that would help.”
“What sort of clue?” Jack questioned, staring thoughtfully toward the
hut.
“I don’t actually know, Jack. But there’s more to this raid and
kidnapping than Rhodes has told us.”
“Maybe we can get in and look around.”
“Not now at any rate,” Mr. Livingston rejected his proposal. “Mrs.
Rhodes is in there. We saw her go in a few minutes ago.”
“She knows we’re here, but she just ignores us,” added War. “Suits me
fine.”
Leaving Jose, War and Willie to unpack the equipment, the other three
started toward the office. Enroute, Jack told of the beating Rhodes had
inflicted upon the peon.
“It doesn’t surprise me,” Mr. Livingston commented. “Rhodes is a brute!”
“The man was trying to steal an emerald,” Jack admitted. “Obviously, he
hates Rhodes and probably would like to get even. I’ll talk to him at
the first opportunity.”
“You may not get anything,” Mr. Livingston advised. “Jose might have
better luck. At least, he could draw the fellow out better, and Rhodes
wouldn’t be suspicious if he saw them together.”
“I never thought of Jose!” Jack exclaimed. “That’s the ticket!”
The three had reached the little office on the rise of land. An outer
door stood open to the breeze. Jack was surprised to see that Rhodes had
left the pit and now was inside the building.
His back was to the approaching trio. He had squatted before the big
safe, and deftly was turning the dials.
Involuntarily, the three halted, alerted by the engineer’s tense
attitude. Why, they wondered, did he act so furtively, as if engaged in
a dishonest act?
The big safe door swung open. Rhodes reached in and drew out a long,
cardboard box. Dipping in his hand, he lifted out a fistful of green
emeralds.
Gloatingly, as a miser would gaze at his hoard of gold, he fondled the
gems. The watchers saw him compare some of the larger emeralds with
those taken from his leather pouch.
“There’s something fishy about this!” Jack muttered. “Didn’t he tell us
that ten days ago, Carlos broke into the safe and took all the emeralds?
Why, that handful must represent weeks of digging!”
His voice, though scarcely above a whisper, had carried inside the
building.
Startled, Rhodes suddenly straightened. Seeing the three just outside
the door, he thrust all the gems back into the box and hurriedly locked
the safe.